#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
You speak to me, but does your spe… With truest truth your thought con… I listen to your words and each Is what I wait to hear you say. The pattern that your lips reveal,
A sea—gull with a broken wing, I found upon the kelp—strewn shore… It sprawled and gasped; I sighed:… I fear your flying days are o’er; Sad victim of a savage gun,
Perfection If I could practise what I preach… Of fellows there would few be fine… If I were true to what I teach My life would be a lot diviner.
That Barret, the painter of pictu… And Fanning, the maker of music,… And Harley, the writer of stories… To hark to their talk in the trenc… Of the day when the war would be o…
Just think! some night the stars w… Upon a cold, grey stone, And trace a name with silver beam, And lo! 'twill be your own. That night is speeding on to greet
(Retold in Rhyme) They threw him in a prison cell; He moaned upon his bed. And when he crept from coils of he… “Last night you killed,” they said…
My Favourite Fan Being a writer I receive Sweet screeds from folk of every l… Some are so weird you’d scarce bel… And some quite hard to understand:
The Princess was of ancient line, Of royal race was she; Like cameo her face was fine, With sad serentiy: Yet bent she toiled with dimming e…
Within a pub that’s off the Stran… With pipe in mouth and mug in hand… “Come, sit ye down, ye wond’ring w… “I can’t,” says I, “because to—ni… To Tripoli and Trebizond and Tim…
With barbwire hooch they filled hi… Till he was drunker than all hell, And then they peddled him the bull About a claim they had to sell. A thousand bucks they made him pay…
Great Grandfather was ninety—nine And so it was our one dread, That though his health was superfi… He’d fail to make the hundred. Though he was not a rolling stone
O meadow lark, so wild and free, It cannot be, it cannot be, That men to merchandise your spell Do close you in a wicker hell! O hedgerow thrush so mad with glee…
Wars have been and wars will be Till the human race is run; Battles red by land and sea, Never peace beneath the sun. I am old and little care;
The cruel war was over—oh, the tri… We watched the troops returning, t… There was triumph, triumph, triump… And you scarce could hear the musi… And you scarce could see the house…
Sez I: My Country calls? Well, l… I grins perlitely and declines wiv… Go, let ‘em plaster every blighted… ’Ere’s ONE they don’t stampede i… Them politicians with their greasy…