Golden Days
Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That
Henry
Mary and I were twenty-two When we were wed; A well-matched pair, right smart to view The town’s folk said. For twenty years I have been true To nuptial bed. But oh alas! The
Artist
He gave a picture exhibition, Hiring a little empty shop. Above its window: FREE ADMISSION Cajoled the passers-by to stop; Just to admire – no need to purchase, Although his price might have been
Susie
My daughter Susie, aged two, Apes me in every way, For as my household chores I do With brooms she loves to play. A scrubbing brush to her is dear; Ah! Though my soul
The Little Piou-Piou
(The French “Tommy”). Oh, some of us lolled in the chateau, And some of us slinked in the slum; But now we are here with a song and a cheer To serve at the
Treat 'Em Rough
First time I dared propose, A callow lad was I; I donned my Sunday clothes, I wore my Old School Tie. Awaiting me Louise Was dolled to beat the band, So going on my
Nature's Touch
In kindergarten classed Dislike they knew; And as the years went past It grew and grew; Until in maidenhood Each sought a mate, Then venom in their mood Was almost hate. The lure of
My Brothers
While I make rhymes my brother John Makes shiny shoes which dames try on, And finding to their fit and stance They buy and wear with elegance; But mine is quite another tale, For
The Ballad Of The Northern Lights
One of the Down and Out that’s me. Stare at me well, ay, stare! Stare and shrink say! you wouldn’t think that I was a millionaire. Look at my face, it’s crimped and gouged
Cinderella
Cinderella in the street In a ragged gown, Sloven slippers on her feet, Shames our tidy town; Harsh her locks of ashen grey, Vapour vague her stare, By the curb this bitter day Selling
The Tunnel
Toil’s a tunnel, there’s no way out For fellows, the like o’ me; A beggar wi’ only a crust an’ a clout At the worst o’ the worst is free; But I work to
The Song Of The Camp-Fire
Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I am red-tongued with desire; Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar, gummy fagots of the pine, Heap them on me, let me hug them to my eager
Atoll
The woes of men beyond my ken Mean nothing more to me. Behold my world, and Eden hurled From Heaven to the Sea; A jeweled home, in fending foam Tempestuously tossed; A virgin isle
The Sightless Man
Out of the night a crash, A roar, a rampart of light; A flame that leaped like a lash, Searing forever my sight; Out of the night a flash, Then, oh, forever the Night!
Little Moccasins
Come out, O Little Moccasins, and frolic on the snow! Come out, O tiny beaded feet, and twinkle in the light! I’ll play the old Red River reel, you used to love it so: