#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Be honest, kindly, simple, true; Seek good in all, scorn but preten… Whatever sorrow come to you, Believe in Life’s Beneficence! The World’s all right; serene I s…
No lyric line I ever penned The praise this parasitic bird; And what is more, I don’t intend To write a laudatory word, Since in my garden robins made
How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke…
He’s the man from Eldorado, and h… In moccasins and oily buckskin shi… He’s gaunt as any Indian, and pre… He’s greasy, and he smells of swea… He sports a crop of whiskers that…
Of all the boys with whom I fough… In Africa and Sicily, Bill was the bravest of the lot In our dare—devil Company. That lad would rather die than yie…
Because my overcoat’s in pawn, I choose to take my glass Within a little bistro on The rue du Montparnasse; The dusty bins with bottles shine,
Beneath the trees I lounged at ea… And watched them speed the pace; They swerved and swung, they clutc… They leapt in roaring chase; The crowd was thrilled, a chap was…
Oh, it’s pleasant sitting here, Seeing all the people pass; You beside your bock of beer, I behind my demi—tasse. Chatting of no matter what.
. . . So I walked among the willo… There was no moon at all, at all;… There was no light at all, at all;… And I called him as his mother ca… Oh I called him all the night—tim…
I used to think a pot of ink Held magic in its fluid, And I would ply a pen when I Was hoary a a Druid; But as I scratch my silver thatch
Maids In May Three maids there were in meadow b… The eldest less then seven; Their eyes were dancing with delig… And innocent as Heaven.
Six bulls I saw as black as jet, With crimsoned horns and amber eye… That chewed their cud without a fr… And swished to brush away the flie… Unwitting their soon sacrifice.
What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!
That Barret, the painter of pictu… And Fanning, the maker of music,… And Harley, the writer of stories… To hark to their talk in the trenc… Of the day when the war would be o…
When I am dead I will not care How future generations fare, For I will be so unaware. Though fields their slain has carp… And seas be salt with tears they s…