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…

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…

All day he lay upon the sand When summer sun was bright, And let the grains sift through hi… With infantile delight; Just like a child, so soft and fai…

“This bunch of violets,” he said, “Is for my daughter dear. Since that glad morn when she was… It is today a year. She lives atop this flight of stai…

Have ever you heard of the Land o… That dreams at the gates of the da… Alluring it lies at the skirts of… And ever so far away; Alluring it calls: O ye the yoke…

Marie Antoinette They told to Marie Antoinette: “The beggers at your gate Have eyes too sad for tears to wet… And for your pity wait.”

At dusk I saw a craintive mouse That sneaked and stole around the… At first I took it for a ghost, For it was snowy white —almost. I’ve seen them in captivity,

When Jack took Nell into his arms He knew he acted ill, And thought as he enjoyed her char… Of his fiancée Jill. “Poor dear,” he sighed, “she dream…

As I go forth from fair to mart With racket ringing, Who would divine that in my heart Mad larks are singing. As I sweet sympathy express,

If she met him or he met her, I knew that something must occur; For they were just like flint and… To strike the spark of woe and wea… Or like two splinters broken fine,

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…

I much admire, I must admit, The man who robs a Bank; It takes a lot of guts and grit, For lack of which I thank The gods: a chap 'twould make of m…

Where are the dames I used to kno… In Dawson in the days of yore? Alas, it’s fifty years ago, And most, I guess, have “gone bef… The swinging scythe is swift to mo…

Life, you’ve been mighty good to m… Yet here’s the end of the trail; No more mountain, moor and sea, No more saddle and sail. Waves a—leap in the laughing sun

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.