Regret
It’s not for laws I’ve broken That bitter tears I’ve wept, But solemn vows I’ve spoken And promises unkept; It’s not for sins committed My heart is full of rue, But gentle acts omitted,
Portrait
Because life’s passing show Is little to his mind, There is a man I know Indrawn from human kind. His dearest friends are books; Yet oh how glad he talks To birds and trees
The Ballad Of Casey's Billy-Goat
You’ve heard of “Casey at The Bat,” And “Casey’s Tabble Dote”; But now it’s time To write a rhyme Of “Casey’s Billy-goat.” Pat Casey had a billy-goat he gave the name of Shamus, Because
Profane Poet
Oh how it would enable me To titillate my vanity If you should choose to label me A Poet of Profanity! For I’ve been known with vulgar slang To stoke the Sacred Fire, And
Little Brother
Wars have been and wars will be Till the human race is run; Battles red by land and sea, Never peace beneath the sun. I am old and little care; I’ll be cold, my
Over The Parapet
All day long when the shells sail over I stand at the sandbags and take my chance; But at night, at night I’m a reckless rover, And over the parapet gleams Romance. Romance! Romance!
The Death Of Marie Toro
We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid Except the blossoms heaping high upon
A Character
How often do I wish I were What people call a character; A ripe and cherubic old chappie Who lives to make his fellows happy; With in his eyes a merry twinkle, And round
Causation
Said darling daughter unto me: “oh Dad, how funny it would be If you had gone to Mexico A score or so of years ago. Had not some whimsey changed your plan I might
My Indian Summer
Here in the Autumn of my days My life is mellowed in a haze. Unpleasant sights are none to clear, Discordant sounds I hardly hear. Infirmities like buffers soft Sustain me tranquilly aloft. I’m
Divine Detachment
One day the Great Designer sought His Clerk of Birth and Death. Said he: “Two souls are in my thought, To whom I gave life-breath. I deemed my work was fitly done, But yester-eve
The Afflicted
Softly every night they come To the picture show, That old couple, deaf and dumb In the second row; Wistful watching, hand in hand, Proud they understand. Shut-ins from the world away, All in
Les Grands Mutiles
I saw three wounded of the war: And the first had lost his eyes; And the second went on wheels and had No legs below the thighs; And the face of the third was
The Legless Man
(The Dark Side) My mind goes back to Fumin Wood, and how we stuck it out, Eight days of hunger, thirst and cold, mowed down by steel and flame; Waist-deep in mud and mad
The Defeated
Think not because you raise A gleaming sword, That you will win to praise Before the Lord. And though men hail you great Unto the skies, Deem not ’twill ope’ the gate Of Paradise.