The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glo… Like lords and ladies gay. A joy are they to dream beside, As in the air of eventide
I never saw a face so bright With brilliant blood and joy, As was the grinning mug last night Of Dick, our local boy, When with a clumsy, lucky clout
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…
Old Man Death’s a lousy heel who… Let Graveyard yawn and doom down… But when the sky with rapture ring… Then Old Man Death grins evilly,… Jack Duval was my chosen pal in t…
'Nay; I don’t need a hearing aid’ I told Mama—in—law; 'For if I had I’d be afraid Of your eternal jaw; Although at me you often shout,
I look at no one, me; I pass them on the stair; Shadows! I don’t see; Shadows! everywhere. Haunting, taunting, staring, glari…
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…
In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr Grandfather’s father would repair With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair, The glass to clink; And oftenwhiles, when not too “fou…
I have no brief for gambling, nay The notion I express That money earned 's the only way To pay for happiness. With cards and dice I do not hold…
In the moonless, misty night, with… I am sitting by the camp—fire’s fa… Oh, the dew is falling chill on th… And the breakers in the bay are mo… The toilful hours are sped, the bo…
Said a monkey unto me: “How I’m glad I am not you! See, I swing from tree to tree, Something that you cannot do. In gay greenery I drown;
At school I never gained a prize, Proving myself the model ass; Yet how I watched the wistful eye… And cheered my mates who topped th… No envy in my heart I found,
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…
Beyond the Rocking Bridge it lies… The huts where hive and swarm and… Through all the night each cabin l… A blood—red heliograph of lust, a… From Dawson Town, soft skulking d…
I wish I had a simple style In writing verse, As in his prose had Ernie Pyle, So true and terse; Springing so forthright from the h…