It Is Later Than You Think
Lone amid the cafe’s cheer, Sad of heart am I to-night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line I write. There’s the wretched rent to pay, Yet I glower at pen and
The Three Bares
Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn’t get ’em clean And so she thought she’d soak ’em in a bucket o’ benzine. It worked all right. She wrung ’em out then wondered
Picture Dealer
There were twin artists A. and B. Who painted pictures two, And hung them in my galley For everyone to view; The one exhibited by A. The name “A Sphere” did bear, While strangely
The God Of Common-Sense
My Daddy used to wallop me for every small offense: “Its takes a hair-brush back,” said he, “to teach kids common-sense.” And still to-day I scarce can look a hair-brush in the face. Without
If You Had A Friend
If you had a friend strong, simple, true, Who knew your faults and who understood; Who believed in the very best of you, And who cared for you as a father would; Who would
Julot The Apache
You’ve heard of Julot the apache, and Gigolette, his mome. . . . Montmartre was their hunting-ground, but Belville was their home. A little chap just like a boy, with smudgy black mustache, Yet
My Centenarian
A hundred years is a lot of living I’ve often thought. and I’ll know, maybe, Some day if the gods are good in giving, And grant me to turn the century. Yet in all
Grey Gull
‘Twas on an iron, icy day I saw a pirate gull down-plane, And hover in a wistful way Nigh where my chickens picked their grain. An outcast gull, so grey and old, Withered of
Fool Faith
Said I: “See yon vast heaven shine, What earthly sight diviner? Before such radiant Design Why doubt Designer?” Said he: “Design is just a thought In human cerebration, And meaningless if Man is not
Munition Maker
I am the Cannon King, behold! I perish on a throne of gold. With forest far and turret high, Renowned and rajah-rich am I. My father was, and his before, With wealth we owe
You Can't Can Love
I don’t know how the fishes feel, but I can’t help thinking it odd, That a gay young flapper of a female eel should fall in love with a cod. Yet – that’s exactly
My Childhood God
When I was small the Lord appeared Unto my mental eye A gentle giant with a beard Who homed up in the sky. But soon that vasty vision blurred, And faded in the end,
A Plea
Why need we newer arms invent, Poor peoples to destroy? With what we have let’s be content And perfect their employ. With weapons that may millions kill, Why should we seek for more, A
Katie Drummond
My Louis loved me oh so well And spiered me for his wife; He would have haled me from the hell That was my bawdy life: The mother of his bairns to be, Daftlike
The Spell Of The Yukon
I wanted the gold, and I sought it, I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy I fought it; I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold,