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,

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…

My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave

Of course you’ve heard of the Nan… On her famous quest of the Arctic… For it was a foreign Prince’s whi… And a golden quid was no more to h… So we sailed away and our hearts w…

In Pat Mahoney’s booze bazaar the… And Ragtime Billy spanked the bab… While caroling a saucy song was M… With sozzled sourdoughs giving her… When suddenly erupting in the gay…

He’s yonder, on the terrace of the… The little wizened Spanish man, I… He’s sitting with his Pernod on h… He’s staring at the passers with h… He never takes his piercing eyes f…

Nurse, won’t you let him in? He’s barkin’ an’ scratchen’ the do… Makin’ so dreffel a din I jest can’t sleep any more; Out there in the dark an’ the cold…

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,

Drunk or sober Uncle Jim Played the boy; Never glum or sour or grim, Oozin’ joy. Most folks thought he was no good,

“The aristocratic ne’er—do—well in… into the ranks of the Royal North… Hark to the ewe that bore him: “What has muddied the strain? Never his brothers before him

It’s a mighty good world, so it is… When even the worst is said. There’s a smile and a tear, a sigh… But better be living than dead; A joy and a pain, a loss and a gai…

’Twas up in a land long famed for… Tellus, the smith, had taken to wi… Tellus, the brawny worker in iron,… Saw her and loved her and bore her… Deeming her worthy to queen his ho…

You’ve heard of Belching Billy, l… As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as… A satellite of Soapy Smith, a cap… A slimy tribute—taker from the La… But say, you never heard of how he…

The waves have a story to tell me, As I lie on the lonely beach; Chanting aloft in the pine—tops, The wind has a lesson to teach; But the stars sing an anthem of gl…

They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away,