My destiny it is tonight To sit with pensive brow Beside my study fire and write This verse I’m making now. This Period, this tiny dot

I have some friends, some worthy f… And worthy friends are rare: These carpet slippers on my feet, That padded leather chair; This old and shabby dressing—gown,

My rhymes are rough, and often in… I’ve drifted, silver—sailed, on se… Hearing afar the bells of Elfland… Seeing the groves of Arcadie agle… I was the thrall of Beauty that r…

My lead dog Mike was like a bear; I reckon he was grizzly bred, For when he reared up in the air Ho over—topped me by a head. He’d cuff me with his hefty paws,

There once was a Square, such a s… And he loved a trim Triangle; But she was a flirt and around her… Vainly she made him dangle. Oh he wanted to wed and he had no…

I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would ch… So bell—like I could scarce belie… My rhymes rippled like a brook,

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…

A passion to be free Has ever mastered me; To none beneath the sun Will I bow down,—not one Shall leash my liberty.

The lady at the corner wicket Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lic… And on the envelope to stick it; A spinster lacking girlish grace, Yet sweetly sensitive, her face

(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…

There’s a four—pronged buck a—swin… And it roamed the velvet valley ti… But I tracked it by the river, an… And I killed it on the mountain m… Now I’ve had my lazy supper, and…

So easy 'tis to make a rhyme, That did the world but know it, Your coachman might Parnassus cli… Your butler be a poet. Then, oh, how charming it would be

Being a shorty, as you see, A bare five footer, The why my wife is true to me Is my six—shooter. For every time a guy goes by

I met an ancient man who mushed With Peary to the Pole. Said I, “In all that land so hush… What most inspired your soul?” He looked at me with bleary eye,

I keep collecting books I know I’ll never, never read; My wife and daughter tell me so, And yet I never head. “Please make me,” says some wistfu…