Said darling daughter unto me: “oh Dad, how funny it would be If you had gone to Mexico A score or so of years ago. Had not some whimsey changed your…

God’s truth! these be the bitter t… In vain I sing my sheaf of rhymes… And hold my battered hat for dimes… And then a copper collars me, Barking: “It’s begging that you b…

My Lady is dancing so lightly, The belle of the Embassy Ball; I lied as I kissed her politely, And hurried away from it all. I’m taxiing up to Montmartre,

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,

I’ve got a little job on 'and, the… At seven by the Captain’s watch I… I wants to 'ave it nice and neat,… And I 'opes the God of soldier me… Because, you see, it’s somethin’…

I keep collecting books I know I’ll never, never read; My wife and daughter tell me so, And yet I never head. “Please make me,” says some wistfu…

You’ve heard of Julot the apache,… Montmartre was their hunting—groun… A little chap just like a boy, wit… Yet there was nothing juvenile in… From head to heel as tough as stee…

Brave Thackeray has trolled of da… And bounded up five flights of sta… And yet again in mellow vein when… Has dipped his nose in Gascon win… But if I worthy were to sing a ri…

Worms finer for fishing you couldn… I delved them dismayed from the ve… The rich loam upturning I gathere… big, fat, gleamy earthworms, all r… Thinks I, without waiting, my hoo…

When your marrer bone seems 'oller… And you’re glad you ain’t no talle… And you’re all a—shakin’ like you… When your skin creeps like a pulle… And you’re duckin’ all the bullets…

A pote is sure a goofy guy; He ain’t got guts like you or I To tell the score; He ain’t goy gumption 'nuff to kno… The game of life’s to get the doug…

With peace and rest And wisdom sage, Ripeness is best Of every age. With hands that fold

A beggar in the street I saw, Who held a hand like withered claw… As cold as clay; But as I had no silver groat To give, I buttoned up my coat

Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose?

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…