#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!
There’s sunshine in the heart of m… My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, I’m fellow to the trees. My golden youth I’m squandering,
With peace and rest And wisdom sage, Ripeness is best Of every age. With hands that fold
She phoned them when the Round wa… ‘How is my Joe?’ they heard her s… They answered: 'Gee! He’s going g… Your guy’s Okay.' She phoned them when the Round wa…
The sunshine seeks my little room To tell me Paris streets are gay; That children cry the lily bloom All up and down the leafy way; That half the town is mad with Ma…
Flat as a drum—head stretch the ha… The mighty skies are palisades of… The stars are blurred; the silence… Vaster and vaster vaults the icy n… Here in my sleeping—bag I cower a…
I’ve sung of Violet de Vere, that… Of Gertie of the Diamond Tooth,… And Maye Lamore,—at eighty—four… That in my wild and wooly youth I… And Klondike Kit, and Gumboot Su…
'God’ is composed of letters three… But if you put an 'l’ Before the last it seems to me A synonym for Hell. For all of envy, greed and hate
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
Lolling on a bank of thyme Drunk with Spring I made this rhy… Though peoples perish in defeat, And races suffer to survive, The sunshine never was so sweet,
“I’ll do the old dump in a day,” He told me in his brittle way. “Two more, I guess, I’ll give to… Before I hit the trail for home; But while I’m there I kindo’ hope
My only medals are the scars I’ve won in weary, peacetime wars, A—fighting for my little brood, To win them shelter, shoon and foo… But most of all to give them faith
If the good King only knew, Lindy Lou, What a cherub child are you, It is true, He would step down from his throne…
“Gather around me, children dear; The wind is high and the night is… Closer, little ones, snuggle near; Let’s seek a story of ages old; A magic tale of a bygone day,
Grimy men with picks and shovels Who in darkness sweat unseen, Climb from out your lousy hovels, Build a palace for the Queen; Praise the powers that be for givi…