Having an aged hate of height I forced myself to climb the Towe… Yet paused at every second flight Because my heart is scant of power… Then when I gained the sloping su…

Selecting in the dining—room The silver of his choice, The burglar heard from chamber glo… A female voice. As cold and bitter as a toad,

I’ve wearied of so many things Adored in youthful days; Music no more my spirit wings, E’en when Master play. For stage and screen I have no he…

Heaven’s mighty sweet, I guess; Ain’t no rush to git there: Been a sinner, more or less; Maybe wouldn’t fit there. Wicked still, bound to confess;

Although the Preacher be a bore, The Atheist is even more. I ain’t religious worth a damn; My views are reckoned to be broad; And yet I shut up like a clam

Somehow the skies don’t seem so bl… As they used to be; Blossoms have a fainter hue, Grass less green I see. There’s no twinkle in a star,

Navels Men have navels more or less; Some are neat, some not Being fat I must confess Mine is far from hot.

When they shall close my careless… And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her li… A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words…

A sea—gull with a broken wing, I found upon the kelp—strewn shore… It sprawled and gasped; I sighed:… I fear your flying days are o’er; Sad victim of a savage gun,

There’s a drip of honeysuckle in t… There’s old Martin jogging homewa… There are cherry petals falling, a… And a score of larks (God bless '… For you see I am not really there…

From off my calendar today A leaf I tear; So swiftly passes smiling May Without a care. And now the gentleness of June

“Tell Annie I’ll be home in time To help her with her Christmas—tr… That’s what he wrote, and hark! th… Of Christmas bells, and where is… And how the house is dark and sad,

The Greatest Writer of to—day (With Maupassant I almost set him… Said to me in a weary way, The last occasion that I met him: “Old chap, this world is more and…

Is it not strange? A year ago to—… With scarce a thought beyond the h… I did my decent job and earned my… Was averagely happy, I’ll be boun… Ay, in my little groove I was con…

Some poets sing of scenery; Some to fair maids make sonnets sw… A fig for love and greenery, Be mine a song of things to eat. Let brother bards divinely dream,