Said Jones: “I’m glad my wife’s n… Her intellect is second—rate. If she was witty she would never Give me a chance to scintillate; But cap my humorous endeavour
My job is done; my rhymes are rank… My word-battalions marching verse… Here stanza-companies are none too… There print-platoons are weak, but… And as in marshalled order I revi…
Oh, it is good to drink and sup, And then beside the kindly fire To smoke and heap the faggots up, And rest and dream to heart’s desi… Oh, it is good to ride and run,
I look into the aching womb of nig… I look across the mist that masks… The moon is tired and gives but li… The stars have gone to bed. The earth is sick and seems to bre…
She was so wonderful I wondered If wedding me she had not blundere… She was so pure, so high above me, I marvelled how she came to love m… Or did she? Well, in her own fash…
I have a house I’ve lived in long… I can’t recall my going in. 'Twere better bartered for a song Ere ruin, rot and rust begin. When it was fresh and fine and fai…
I’m goin’ 'ome to Blighty—ain’t I… I’m loaded up wiv fightin’, and I… I’m feelin’ so excited—like, I wa… For I’m goin’ 'ome to Blighty in… I’m goin’ 'ome to Blighty: can yo…
“Where is your little boy to—day?” I asked her at the gate. “I used to see him at his play, And often I would wait: He was so beautiful, so bright,
There was a woman, and she was wis… She was old, so old, yet her years… And she knew by heart, from finish… There is no hope for such as I on… Unloved I live, unloved I die, un…
A Life Tragedy A pistol shot rings round and roun… In pitiful defeat a warrior lies. A last defiance to dark Death is… A last wild challenge shocks the s…
My rhymes are rough, and often in… I’ve drifted, silver—sailed, on se… Hearing afar the bells of Elfland… Seeing the groves of Arcadie agle… I was the thrall of Beauty that r…
No man can be a failure if he thin… he may not own his roof—tree overh… He may be on his uppers and have h… (Financially speaking —in the red) He may have chronic shortage to re…
Smith, great writer of stories, dr… Fused in his brain-pan, else a bla… Gave him the magical genius touch;… Flat in your face a soul-thought—… Twiddle your heart-strings in his…
You ask me what I call Success — It is, I wonder, Happiness? It is not wealth, it is not fame, Nor rank, nor power nor honoured n… It is not triumph in the Arts —
“Let’s make him a sailor,” said F… “And he will adventure the sea.” “A soldier,” said Mother, “is rat… What I would prefer him to be.” “A lawyer,” said Father, “would p…