#1918 #EnglishWriters #OverHere
This I heard the Old Flag say As I passed it yesterday: ‘Months ago your friendly hands Fastened me on slender strands And with patriotic love
Let philosophers say that it’s all… No matter what happens awry, I defy one to smile who spills pie… Especially loose pumpkin pie.
Death crossed his threshold yester… And left the glad voice of his lov… To him the living now will come And cross his threshold in the sel… To clasp his hand and vainly try t…
Mine is a song of hope For the days that lie before; For the grander things The morrow brings When the struggle days are o’er.
Apples on the table an’ the grate-… Oh, I’m sure the whole world hasn… The Mother sittin’ mendin’ little… An’ tellin’ all that’s happened th… Oh, I don’t know how to say it, b…
I know that what I did was wrong; I should have sent you far away. You tempted me, and I’m not stron… I tried but couldn’t answer nay. I should have packed you off to be…
I hold the finest picture-books Are woods an’ fields an’ runnin’ b… An’ when the month o’ May has don… Her paintin’, an’ the mornin’ sun Is lightin’ just exactly right
There are different kinds of heroe… They get their pictures printed, a… There are heroes known to glory th… In the service of their country an… There are brave men in the trenche…
All things grow lovely in a little… The brush of memory paints a canva… The dead face through the ages wea… And glorious becomes accomplished… There’s nothing ugly that can live…
An apple tree beside the way, Drinking the sunshine day by day According to the Master’s plan, Had been a faithful friend to man. It had been kind to all who came,
We’ve been out to Pelletier’s Brushing off the stain of years, Quitting all the moods of men And been boys and girls again. We have romped through orchards bl…
Some day the world will need a man… And somewhere, as a little boy, th… Within some humble home, no doubt,… Now climbs upon his father’s knee… And when shall come that call for…
The women of the sailors, unto the… They never hear the breaking waves… But that their hearts are anguish-… For the women of the sailors it’s… The women of the sailors, unto the…
If he should meet a mother there Along some winding Flanders road, No extra touch of grief or care He’ll add unto her heavy load. But he will kindly take her arm
What do I want my boy to be? Oft is the question asked of me, And oft I ask it of myself– What corner, niche or post or shel… In the great hall of life would I