#EnglishWriters
Taking medicine today isn’t what it used to be. Castor oil is castor oil, but they’ve banished senna tea, And they’ve sugar coated now all the bitter things we took, Mother used to brew...
It may be I am getting old and li… Upon the days of bygone years, the… But thinking of them now I wish s… A simple old Thanksgiving Day, li… When all the family gathered round…
When winter shuts a fellow in and… There’s nothing else for him to do… And then before an open fire he sm… He seems to see a picture show of… No ordinary film is that which mem…
There is no music quite so sweet As patter of a baby’s feet. Who never hears along the hall The sound of tiny feet that fall Upon the floor so soft and low
Oh, some shall stand in glory’s li… And many a mother there shall say,… But I shall stand in silence then… For I must answer at the last tha… When all this age shall pass away,…
For this and that and various thin… It seems that men must get togethe… To purchase cups or diamond rings Or to discuss the price of leather… From nine to ten, or two to three,
THE way to make friends is as eas… As breathing the fresh morning air… It isn’t an art to be studied Alone by the men who can spare The time from their every day labo…
The little church of Long Ago, wh… With mother in the family pew and… How I would like to see it now th… The straight-backed pews, the pulp… Dressed stiffly. in their Sunday…
IF no one ever went ahead, If we had seen no friend depart And mourned him for a while as dea… How great would be our fear to sta… If no one for us led the way,
Oh, we have shipped his Christmas… And he shall find the things he li… But he must miss the kisses true a… And he must miss the smiles of hom… He’ll spend his Christmas 'neath…
A friend is one who stands to shar… Your every touch of grief and care… He comes by chance, but stays by c… Your praises he is quick to voice. No grievous fault or passing whim
She is gentle, kind and fair, And there’s silver in her hair; She has known the touch of sorrow, But the smile of her is sweet; And sometimes it seems to me
If I had hatred in my heart towar… If I were pressed to do him ill,… To wound him sorely and to rob his… I’d wish his wife would go away an… I’d waste no time on curses vague,…
Little woman, hourly sitting, Something for a soldier knitting, What in fancy can you see? Many pictures come to me Through the stitch that now you’re…
Mothers and wives, ’tis the call t… That the bugler yonder prepares to… We stand on the brink of war’s ala… And your men may lie on a blood-st… ground.