#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The moon, a silver wafer, clings. What shall we find when death give…
Here is this vale of sweet abiding… My ultimate and dulcet home, That gently dreams above the chidi… of restless and impatient foam; Beyond the hazards of hell weather…
It’s cruel cold on the water—front… Only the black tide weltering, onl… And I, alone, like a storm—tossed… Shuffling along in the icy wind, g… They’re playing a tune in McGuffy…
“And when I come to die,” he said… “Ye shall not lay me out in state, Nor leave your laurels at my head, Nor cause your men of speech orate… No monument your gift shall be,
Someone’s Mother trails the stree… Wrapt in rotted rags; Broken slippers on her feet Drearily she drags; Drifting in the bitter night,
While for me gapes the greedy grav… It don’t make sense That I should have a crazy crave To paint our fence. Yet that is what I aim to do,
I often wonder how Life clicks because They don’t make women now Like Mammy was. When broods of two or three
We have no heart for civil strife, Our burdens we prefer to bear; We long to live a peaceful life And claim of happiness our share. If only to be clothed and fed
Unto his housemaid spoke the Lair… "Tonight the Bishop is our guest; The spare room must be warmed and… To please him we will do our best. A worthy haggis you must make,
A bunch of the boys were whooping… The kid that handles the music—box… Back of the bar, in a solo game, s… And watching his luck was his ligh… When out of the night, which was f…
One spoke: “Come, let us gaily go With laughter, love and lust, Since in a century or so We’ll all be boneyard dust. When unborn shadows hold the scree…
When Aunt Jane died we hunted rou… And money everywhere we found. How much I do not care to say, But no death duties will we pay, And Aunt Jane will be well conten…
Where once with lads I scoffed my… The landlord’s lass I’ve wed. Now I am lord and master here;— Thank God! the old man’s dead. I stand behind a blooming bar
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…
Full well I trow that when I die Down drops the curtain; Another show is all my eye And Betty Martin. I know the score, and with a smile