#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
You may talk o’ your lutes and you… Your harps and your tabors and cym… But here in the trenches jist gie… The wee penny whistle o’ Sandy M… Oh, it’s: “Sandy, ma lad, will yo…
I look at no one, me; I pass them on the stair; Shadows! I don’t see; Shadows! everywhere. Haunting, taunting, staring, glari…
Oh darling Eric, why did you For my fond affection sue, And then with surgeons artful aid Transform yourself into a maid? So now in petticoats you go
When you’re lost in the Wild, and… And Death looks you bang in the e… And you’re sore as a boil, it’s ac… To cock your revolver and . . . di… But the Code of a Man says: “Fig…
Can you recall, dear comrade, when… And we sang the old, old Earth—so… When we drank and fought and luste… Along the road to Anywhere, the w… Along the road to Anywhere, when…
The Elders of the Tribe were grou… And squatted in the Council Cave; They seemed to be extremely pooped… And some were grim, but all were g… The subject of their big To—do
One pearly day in early May I wal… And saw, say half a mile away, a m… A dog was cowering to his will as… Upon a dozen ducks so still they s… When like a streak the dog dashed…
Do you recall that happy bike With bundles on our backs? How near to heaven it was like To blissfully relax! In cosy tavern of good cheer
I like to think that when I fall, A rain—drop in Death’s shoreless… This shelf of books along the wall… Beside my bed, will mourn for me. Regard it. . . . Aye, my taste is…
Through eyelet holes I watched th… Rain of confetti fling; Their joy is lush, their laughter… For Carnival is King. Behind his chariot I pace
O’er the dark pines she sees the s… And in the west, all tremulous, a… And soothing sweet she hears the m… Of cow—bells jangled in the fields… Quite listless, for her daily sten…
Confound all aberrations which Make men do foolish things, Like buying bracelets for a bitch, Or witless wedding rings. As if we had not woe enough
Poets may praise a wattle thatch Doubtfully waterproof; Let me uplift my lowly latch Beneath a rose—tiled roof. Let it be gay and rich in hue,
The Greatest Writer of to—day (With Maupassant I almost set him… Said to me in a weary way, The last occasion that I met him: “Old chap, this world is more and…
This is the pay—day up at the mine… There’s money to burn in the stree… With a haggard face and a ribband… And I know at the dawn she’ll com… One for herself, to drown her sham…