Tranquilism
I call myself a Tranquilist; With deep detachment I exist, From friction free; While others court the gilded throng And worship Women, Wine and Song, I scorn the three. For I have reached the
Rose Leaves
When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were
Freethinker
Although the Preacher be a bore, The Atheist is even more. I ain’t religious worth a damn; My views are reckoned to be broad; And yet I shut up like a clam When folks
Kings Must Die
Alphonso Rex who died in Rome Was quite a fistful as a kid; For when I visited his home, That gorgeous palace in Madrid, The grinning guide-chap showed me where He rode his bronco
Virginity
My mother she had children five and four are dead and gone; While I, least worthy to survive, persist in living on. She looks at me, I must confess, sometimes with spite and bitterness.
Pedlar
Pedlar’s coming down the street, Housewives beat a swift retreat. Don’t you answer to the bell; Heedless what she has to sell. Just discreetly go inside. We must hang a board, I fear: PEDLARS
Dedication
In youth I longed to paint The loveliness I saw; And yet by dire constraint I had to study Law. But now all that is past, And I have no regret, For I am
No Sourdough
To be a bony feed Sourdough You must, by Yukon Law, Have killed a moose, And robbed a sluice, AND BUNKED UP WITH A SQUAW. . . . Alas! Sourdough I’ll never be. Oh,
The Seance
“The spirits do not like the light,” The medium said, and turned the switch; The little lady on my right Clutched at my hand with nervous twitch. (She seemed to be a pretty bitch.)
Raising The Flag
Behold! the Spanish flag they’re raising Before the Palace courtyard gate; To watch its progress bold and blazing Two hundred patient people wait. Though bandsmen play the anthem bravely The silken emblem seems to
Segregation
I stood beside the silken rope, Five dollars in my hand, And waited in my patient hope To sit anear the Band, And hear the famous Louie play The best hot trumpet of today.
My Vineyard
To me at night the stars are vocal. They say: ‘Your planet’s oh so local! A speck of dust in heaven’s ceiling; Your faith divine a foolish feeling. What odds if you are chaos
Tom
That Tom was poor was sure a pity, Such guts for learning had the lad; He took to Greek like babe to titty, And he was mathematic mad. I loved to prime him up
Old Engine Driver
For five and twenty years I’ve run A famous train; But now my spell of speed is done, No more I’ll strain My sight along the treadless tracks, The gleamy rails: My hand upon
God's Battleground
God dwells in you; in pride and shame, In all you do to blight or bless; In all you are of praise and blame, In beauty or in ugliness. “Divine Creation” – What a