I much admire, I must admit, The man who robs a Bank; It takes a lot of guts and grit, For lack of which I thank The gods: a chap 'twould make of m…
A Life Tragedy A pistol shot rings round and roun… In pitiful defeat a warrior lies. A last defiance to dark Death is… A last wild challenge shocks the s…
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,
Alas! I am only a rhymer, I don’t know the meaning of Art; But I learned in my little school… To love Eugene Field and Bret Ha… I hailed Hoosier Ryley with pleas…
It was foretold by sybils three that in an air crash he would die. “I’ll fool their prophesy,” said h… “You won’t get me to go on high. Howe’re the need for haste and spe…
Do you recall that happy bike With bundles on our backs? How near to heaven it was like To blissfully relax! In cosy tavern of good cheer
They say that Monte Carlo is A sunny place for shady people; But I’m not in the gambling biz, And sober as a parish steeple. so though this paradisal spot
God dwells in you; in pride and sh… In all you do to blight or bless; In all you are of praise and blame… In beauty or in ugliness. “Divine Creation” —What a fraud!
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…
I think I’ll buy a little field, Though scant am I of pelf, And hold the hope that it may yiel… A living for myself; For I have toiled ten thousand da…
To smite Apollo’s lyre I am unabl… Of loveliness, alas! I cannot sin… My lot it i, across the tavern tab… To start a chorus to the strumming… I have no gift to touch your heart…
His face was like a lobster red, His legs were white as mayonnaise: “I’ve had a jolly lunch,” he said, That Englishman of pleasant ways. “Thy do us well at our hotel:
Father drank himself to death,— Quite enjoyed it. Urged to draw a sober breath He’d avoid it. ‘Save your sympathy,’ said Dad;
I haven’t worn my evening dress For nearly twenty years; Oh I’m unsocial, I confess, A hermit, it appears. So much moth—balled it’s but away,
Maids In May Three maids there were in meadow b… The eldest less then seven; Their eyes were dancing with delig… And innocent as Heaven.