#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
When young I was an Atheist, Yea, pompous as a pigeon No opportunity I missed To satirize religion. I sneered at Scripture, scoffed a…
Clorinda met me on the way As I came from the train; Her face was anything but gay, In fact, suggested pain. “Oh hubby, hubby dear!” she cried,
When first I left Blighty they ga… And told me it ‘ad to be smothered… But blimey! I ’aven’t been able t… So far as I’ve gone wiv the vinta… For ain’t it a fraud! when a Boch…
God dwells in you; in pride and sh… In all you do to blight or bless; In all you are of praise and blame… In beauty or in ugliness. “Divine Creation” —What a fraud!
If we could roll back History A century, let’s say, And start from there, I’m sure th… Would find things as to—day: In all creation’s cosmic range
Ye who know the Lone Trail fain w… Though it lead to glory or the dar… Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid y… The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail f… The trails of the world be countle…
While I make rhymes my brother Jo… Makes shiny shoes which dames try… And finding to their fit and stanc… They buy and wear with elegance; But mine is quite another tale,—
What guts he had, the Dago lad Who fought that Frenchman grim wi… For nigh an hour they milled like… And mauled the mat in rare old sty… Then up and launched like catapult…
I never killed a bear because I always thought them critters was So kindo’ cute; Though round my shack they often c… I’d raise my rifle and take aim,
To me at night the stars are vocal… They say: 'Your planet’s oh so lo… A speck of dust in heaven’s ceilin… Your faith divine a foolish feelin… What odds if you are chaos hurled,
Son put a poser up to me That made me scratch my head: “God made the whole wide world,” q… “That’s right, my boy,” I said. Said son: “He mad the mountains s…
When you come home I’ll not be ro… To welcome you. They’ll take you to a grassy mound So neat and new; Where I’ll be sleeping—O so sound…
I gave an eye to save from night A babe born blind; And now with eager semi—sight Vast joy I find To think a child can share with me
Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun… And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me… Ice—blue eyes on every hand,
Rhyme—Smith Oh, I was born a lyric babe (That last word is a bore — It’s only rhyme is astrolabe," Whose meaning I ignore.)