Rhyme-Smith

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1. Still I Love To Rhyme STILL I love to rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to wander Far from the commoner way; Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do I ponder, Dreaming to-morrow to-day. Come here, come, revive me, Sun-God, teach me, Apollo, Measures descanted before; Since I ancient verses, I emulous follow, Prints in the marbles of yore. […]...
2. Rhyme Builder I envy not those gay galoots Who count on dying in their boots; For that, to tell the sober truth Sould be the privilege of youth; But aged bones are better sped To heaven from a downy bed. So prop me up with pillows two, And serve me with the barley brew; And put a […]...
3. Sonnet XXXIX: Some, When in Rhyme Some, when in rhyme they of their loves do tell, With flames and lightnings their exordiums paint; Some call on Heav’n, some invocate on Hell, And Fates and Furies with their woes acquaint. Elysium is too high a seat for me; I will not come in Styx or Phlegethon; The thrice-three Muses but too wanton […]...
4. You Mustn't Show Weakness You mustn’t show weakness And you’ve got to have a tan. But sometimes I feel like the thin veils Of Jewish women who faint At weddings and on Yom Kippur. You mustn’t show weakness And you’ve got to make a list Of all the things you can load In a baby carriage without a baby. […]...
5. 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 even used a word like ‘hang’, Suggesting ire. Yea, I’ve been slyly told, although It savours of inanity, In print the […]...
6. Mary smith Away down East where I was reared amongst my Yankee kith, There used to live a pretty girl whose name was Mary Smith; And though it’s many years since last I saw that pretty girl, And though I feel I’m sadly worn by Western strife and whirl; Still, oftentimes, I think about the old familiar […]...
7. The Mystery Of Mister Smith For supper we had curried tripe. I washed the dishes, wound the clock; Then for awhile I smoked my pipe – Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk. The Misses sewed – a sober pair; Says I at last: “I need some air.” A don’t know why I acted so; I had no thought, […]...
8. A Lyric Day I deem that there are lyric days So ripe with radiance and cheer, So rich with gratitude and praise That they enrapture all the year. And if there is a God babove, (As they would tell me in the Kirk,) How he must look with pride and love Upon his perfect handiwork! To-day has been […]...
9. A Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment with a measure, But false weight; Wresting words from their true calling, Propping verse for fear of falling To the ground; Jointing syllabes, drowning letters, Fast’ning vowels as with fetters They were bound! Soon as […]...
10. Ernie Pyle 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 heart With guileless art. I wish I could put back a dram As Ernie could; I wish that I could cuss and damn As soldier should; And fain with […]...
11. Louise Smith Herbert broke our engagement of eight years When Annabelle returned to the village From the Seminary, ah me! If I had let my love for him alone It might have grown into a beautiful sorrow Who knows? filling my life with healing fragrance. But I tortured it, I poisoned it, I blinded its eyes, and […]...
12. A Rhyme of Death’s Inn A rhyme of good Death’s inn! My love came to that door; And she had need of many things, The way had been so sore. My love she lifted up her head, “And is there room?” said she; “There was no room in Bethlehem’s inn For Christ who died for me.” But said the keeper […]...
13. 90. Epistle to James Smith DEAR SMITH, the slee’st, pawkie thief, That e’er attempted stealth or rief! Ye surely hae some warlock-brief Owre human hearts; For ne’er a bosom yet was prief Against your arts. For me, I swear by sun an’ moon, An’ ev’ry star that blinks aboon, Ye’ve cost me twenty pair o’ shoon, Just gaun to see […]...
14. The Rhyme Of The Restless Ones We couldn’t sit and study for the law; The stagnation of a bank we couldn’t stand; For our riot blood was surging, and we didn’t need much urging To excitements and excesses that are banned. So we took to wine and drink and other things, And the devil in us struggled to be free; Till […]...
15. A Triolet Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet. It makes bad writers somewhat worse: Of all the sickly forms of verse, That fall beneath a reader’s curse, It is the feeblest jingle yet. Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet....
16. The Spoilsport My familiar ghost again Comes to see what he can see, Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Spying on our privacy. Slam the window, bolt the door, Yet he’ll enter in and stay; In tomorrow’s book he’ll score Indiscretions of today. Whispered love and muttered fears, How their echoes fly about! None escape his watchful ears, […]...
17. Rhyme For My Tomb Here lyeth one Who loved the sun; Who lived with zest, Whose work was done, Reward, dear Lord, Thy weary son: May he be blest With peace and rest, Nor wake again, Amen....
18. The Rhyme Of The Remittance Man There’s a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin, And it roamed the velvet valley till to-day; But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover, And I killed it on the mountain miles away. Now I’ve had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleaming On […]...
19. Driver Smith ‘Twas Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight; He thought of the Transvaal all the day, he thought of it all the night “Well, if the battery’s left behind, I’ll go to the war,” says he, “I’ll go a-driving and ambulance in the ranks of the A. M. C. “I’m fairly […]...
20. The Last Rhyme of True Thomas The King has called for priest and cup, The King has taken spur and blade To dub True Thomas a belted knight, And all for the sake o’ the songs he made. They have sought him high, they have sought him low, They have sought him over down and lea; They have found him by […]...
21. 78. Epitaph for James Smith LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a’, He aften did assist ye; For had ye staid hale weeks awa, Your wives they ne’er had miss’d ye. Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press To school in bands thegither, O tread ye lightly on his grass, — Perhaps he was your father!...
22. The Rhyme of the Three Sealers Away by the lands of the Japanee Where the paper lanterns glow And the crews of all the shipping drink In the house of Blood Street Joe, At twilight, when the landward breeze Brings up the harbour noise, And ebb of Yokohama Bay Swigs chattering through the buoys, In Cisco’s Dewdrop Dining-Rooms They tell the […]...
23. The Dark Girl's Rhyme Who was there had seen us Wouldn’t bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing Of a pious race, Setting hags a-swinging In a market-place; Sowing turnips over Where the poppies lay; Looking past the clover, Adding up the hay; Shouting through the Spring song, Clumping down […]...
24. Jack's Legacy The critic gushed and said, “Just like Jack, So raw, I never thought to see another writer just Like Kerouac!” Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer? Christ, that’s a laugh, compare me to a writer! Let’s face it I’m no hack, I’m not so much to look at either, But maybe Jack took […]...
25. AN ODE FOR BEN JONSON Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad? And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine. My Ben! Or come again, Or […]...
26. The Rhyme of the Three Greybeards He’d been for years in Sydney “a-acting of the goat”, His name was Joseph Swallow, “the Great Australian Pote”, In spite of all the stories and sketches that he wrote. And so his friends held meetings (Oh, narrow souls were theirs!) To advertise their little selves and Joseph’s own affairs. They got up a collection […]...
27. The Living Dead Since I have come to years sedate I see with more and more acumen The bitter irony of Fate, The vanity of all things human. Why, just to-day some fellow said, As I surveyed Fame’s outer portal: “By gad! I thought that you were dead.” Poor me, who dreamed to be immortal! But that’s the […]...
28. His Prayer To Ben Jonson When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray’d thee, For old religion’s sake, Saint Ben to aid me. Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyric. Candles I’ll give to thee, And a new altar, And thou, Saint Ben, shalt be Writ in […]...
29. Verse-Making Was Least of My Virtues Verse-making was least of my virtues: I viewed with despair Wealth that never yet was but might be all that verse-making were If the life would but lengthen to wish, let the mind be laid bare. So I said, “To do little is bad, to do nothing is worse” And made verse. Love-making, how simple […]...
30. Song of Perfect Propriety Oh, I should like to ride the seas, A roaring buccaneer; A cutlass banging at my knees, A dirk behind my ear. And when my captives’ chains would clank I’d howl with glee and drink, And then fling out the quivering plank And watch the beggars sink. I’d like to straddle gory decks, And dig […]...
31. The Rhyme of the Three Captains This ballad appears to refer to one of the exploits of the notorious Paul Jones, the American pirate. It is founded on fact. . . . At the close of a winter day, Their anchors down, by London town, the Three Great Captains lay; And one was Admiral of the North from Solway Firth to […]...
32. Sailor's Sweetheart He sleeps beside me in the bed; Upon my breast I hold his head; Oh how I would that we were wed, For he sails in the morning. I wish I had not been so kind; But love is fain and passion blind, While out of sight is out of mind, And he ships in […]...
33. The Rhyme of the O'Sullivan Pro Bono Publico Went out the streets to scan, And marching to and fro He met a seedy man, Who did a tale unfold In solemn tones and slow And this is what he told Pro Bono Publico. “For many years I led The people’s onward march; I was the ‘Fountain Head’, The ‘Democratic Arch’. […]...
34. Farewell To Verse In youth when oft my muse was dumb, My fancy nighly dead, To make my inspiration come I stood upon my head; And thus I let the blood down flow Into my cerebellum, And published every Spring or so Slim tomes in vellum. Alas! I am rheumatic now, Grey is my crown; I can no […]...
35. The Poet Fears Failure The poet fears failure & so she says “Hold on pen What if the critics Hate me?” & with that question She blots out more lines Than any critic could. The critic is only doing his job: Keeping the poet lonely. He barks Like a dog at the door When the master comes home. It’s […]...
36. Sonnet XXIV: I Hear Some Say I hear some say, “This man is not in love.” “What? Can he love? A likely thing,” they say; “Read but his verse, and it will easily prove.” O judge not rashly, gentle Sir, I pray. Because I trifle loosely in this sort, As one that fain his sorrows would beguile, You now suppose me […]...
37. A Rhyme About an Electrical Advertising Sign I LOOK on the specious electrical light Blatant, mechanical, crawling and white, Wickedly red or malignantly green Like the beads of a young Senegambian queen. Showing, while millions of souls hurry on, The virtues of collars, from sunset till dawn, By dart or by tumble of whirl within whirl, Starting new fads for the shame-weary […]...
38. Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday You cannot see the walls that divide your hand From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it. You cannot see the walls because they are glass, And glass is nothing until you try to pass it. Beat on it if you like, but not too hard, For glass will break you […]...
39. At a Poetry Party I Am Given the Rhyme Chih Although I’ve studied poetry for thirty years I try to keep my mouth shut and avoid reputation. Now who is this nosy gentleman talking about my poetry Like Yang Ching-chih Who spoke of Hsiang Ssu everywhere he went....
40. Spartan Mother My mother loved her horses and Her hounds of pedigree; She did not kiss the baby hand I held to her in glee. Of course I had a sweet nou-nou Who tended me with care, And mother reined her nag to view Me with a critic air. So I went to a famous school, But […]...