Dusting my books I spent a busy d… Not ancient toes, time—hallowed an… but modern volumes, classics in th… whose makers now are numbered with… Men of a generation more than mine…

Give me your hand, oh little one! Like children be we two; Yet I am old, my day is done That barely breaks for you. A baby—basket hard you hold,

He was my best and oldest friend. I’d known him all my life. And yet I’m sure towards the end He knew I loved his wife, And wonder, wonder if it’s why

I Laugh at Life: its antics make… Where only foolish fellows take th… I laugh at pomp and vanity, at ric… At social inanity, at swager, swan… At poets, pastry—cooks and kings,…

Because life’s passing show Is little to his mind, There is a man I know Indrawn from human kind. His dearest friends are books;

And so when he reached my bed The General made a stand: “My brave young fellow,” he said, “I would shake your hand.” So I lifted my arm, the right,

On this festive first of May, Wending wistfully my way Three sad sights I saw today. The first was such a lovely lad He lit with grace the sordid stree…

There once was a limpet puffed wit… Who said to the ribald sea: “It isn’t I who cling to the rock… It’s the rock that clings to me; It’s the silly old rock who hugs m…

He stared at me with sad, hurt eye… That drab, untidy man; And though my clients I despise I do the best I can To comfort them with cheerful chat…

My Boss keeps sporty girls, they… His belly’s big with cheer. He squanders in a single day What I make in a year. For I must toil with bloody sweat…

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

O Teddy Bear! with your head awry And your comical twisted smile, You rub your eyes —do you wonder w… You’ve slept such a long, long whi… As you lay so still in the cupboar…

A bonny bird I found today Mired in a melt of tar; Its silky breast was silver—grey, Its wings were cinnabar. So still it lay right in the way

I made a picture; all my heart I put in it, and all I knew Of canvas—cunning and of Art, Of tenderness and passion true. A worshipped Master came to see;

When a girl’s sixteen, and as poor… And she hasn’t a friend and she ha… Heigh—ho! She’s as safe in Paris… As a lamb night—strayed where the… And that was I; oh, it’s seven ye…