‘Why keep a cow when I can buy,’ Said he, ‘the milk I need,’ I wanted to spit in his eye Of selfishness and greed; But did not, for the reason he

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…

Three gentlemen live close beside… A painter of pictures bizarre, A poet whose virtues might guide m… A singer who plays the guitar; And there on my lintel is Cupid;

I just think that dreams are best, Just to sit and fancy things; Give your gold no acid test, Try not how your silver rings; Fancy women pure and good,

O dear little cabin, I’ve loved y… And now I must bid you good—bye! I’ve filled you with laughter, I’… And sometimes I’ve wished I could… Your walls they have witnessed a w…

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

My boy’s come back; he’s here at l… He came home on a special train. My longing and my ache are past, My only son is back again. He’s home with music, flags and fl…

The English and the French were m… Upon the field of future battle; The foes were formidably set And waiting for the guns to rattle… When from the serried ranks of Fr…

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…

How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke…

I have done with love and lust, I reck not for gold or fame; I await familiar dust These frail fingers to reclaim: Not for me the tiger flame.

My flask of wine was ruby red And swift I ran my sweet to see; With eyes that snapped delight I… “How mad with love a lad can be!” The moon was laughing overhead;

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;

Striving is life, yet life is stri… I fight to live, yet live to fight… The vital urge is in my driving, Yet I must drive with all my migh… Each day a battle, and the fray

To hell with Government I say; I’m sick of all the piddling pack. I’d like to scram, get clean away, And never, nevermore come back. With heart of hope I long to go