#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
This is the law of the Yukon, and… “Send not your foolish and feeble;… Strong for the red rage of battle;… Send me men girt for the combat, m… Swift as the panther in triumph, f…
With belly like a poisoned pup Said I: ‘I must give bacon up: And also, I profanely fear, I must abandon bread and beer That make for portliness they say;
To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after ro…
If you had a friend strong, simple… Who knew your faults and who under… Who believed in the very best of y… And who cared for you as a father… Who would stick by you to the very…
“Give me my daily bread. It seems so odd, When all is done and said, This plea to God. To pray for cake might be
Ho! we were strong, we were swift,… Youth was a challenge, and Life w… All that was best in us gladly we… Sprang from the rally, and leapt f… Smiling is Love in a foam of Spri…
Ruins in Rome are four a penny, And here along the Appian Way I see the monuments of many Esteemed almighty in their day. .… Or so he makes me understand —
I scanned two lines with some surm… As over Keats I chanced to pore: ‘And there I shut her wild, wild… With kisses four.’ Says I: ‘Why was it only four,
He gave a picture exhibition, Hiring a little empty shop. Above its window: FREE ADMI… Cajoled the passers—by to stop; Just to admire —no need to purchas…
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
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…
My brother Jim’s a millionaire, while I have scarce a penny; His face is creased with lines of… While my mug hasn’t any. With inwardness his eyes are dim,
This is the song of the parson’s s… On the wild, weird nights, when th… And it’s sixty below, and couched… “I’m one of the Arctic brotherhoo… I came with the first—O God! how…
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…
Her smile ineffably is sweet, Devinely she is slim; Yet oh how weary are her feet, How aches her every limb! Thank God it’s near to closing ti…