#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
What would I choose to see when I To this bright earth shall bid goo… When fades forever from my sight The world I’ve loved with long de… What would I pray to look on last…
“If you repent,” the Parson said,… Your sins will be forgiven. Aye, even on your dying bed You’re not too late for heaven." That’s just my cup of tea, I thou…
Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try; Since twelve I haven’t closed an… And now it’s three, and as I lie, From Notre Dame to St. Denis The bells of Paris chime to me;
When looking back I dimly see The trails my feet have trod, Some hand divine, it seems to me, Has pulled the strings with God; Some angel form has lifeward leane…
You want me to tell you a story, a… Of our thin red kharki 'eroes, out… Out there where the bombs are bust… and the cannons like 'ell—doors sl… Just order another drink, boys, an…
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,
What guts he had, the Dago lad Who fought that Frenchman grim wi… For nigh an hour they milled like… And mauled the mat in rare old sty… Then up and launched like catapult…
Said she: 'Although my husband Ji… Is with his home content, I never should have married him, We are so different. Oh yes, I know he loves me well,
He used to say: There ain’t a dou… Misfortune is a bitter pill, But if you only pry it out You’ll find there’s good in every… There’s comfort in the worst of wo…
Day after day behold me plying My pen within an office drear; The dullest dog, till homeward hie… Then lo! I reign a king of cheer. A throne have I of padded leather…
Three widows of the Middle West We’re grimly chewing gum; The Lido chef a quail had dressed With garlic and with rum, And they were painfully oppressed
In idle dream with pipe in hand I looked across the Square, And saw the little chapel stand In eloquent despair. A ruin of the War it was,
When from my fumbling hand the tir… And in the twilight weary droops m… While to my quiet heart a still vo… Calls me to join my kindred of the… Grant that I may, O Lord, ere re…
They thought I’d be a champion; They boasted loud of me. A dozen victories I’d won, The Press was proud of me. I saw myself with glory crowned,
Softly every night they come To the picture show, That old couple, deaf and dumb In the second row; Wistful watching, hand in hand,