La Nuit Blanche
A much-discerning Public hold The Singer generally sings And prints and sells his past for gold. Whatever I may here disclaim, The very clever folk I sing to Will most indubitably cling to Their
The Gift of the Sea
The dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept The gale in the teeth of the tide. But the mother laughed at all.
By the Hoof of the Wild Goat
By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun Fell the Stone To the Tarn where the daylight is lost, So she fell from the light
The Flight
1930 When the grey geese heard the Fool’s tread Too near to where they lay, They lifted neither voice nor head, But took themselves away. No water broke, no pinion whirred- There went no
The Fairies' Siege
I have been given my charge to keep Well have I kept the same! Playing with strife for the most of my life, But this is a different game. I’11 not fight against swords
The Prayer of Miriam Cohen
From the wheel and the drift of Things Deliver us, Good Lord, And we will face the wrath of Kings, The faggot and the sword! Lay not thy Works before our eyes Nor vex
The Last of the Light Brigade
1891 There were thirty million English who talked of England’s might, There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night. They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor
The Ballad of the King's Jest
When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails, Light are the purses but heavy the bales, As the snowbound trade of
The Widower
For a season there must be pain For a little, little space I shall lose the sight of her face, Take back the old life again While She is at rest in her place.
The Song of the Little Hunter
Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh He is Fear, O
The Necessitarian
I know not in Whose hands are laid To empty upon earth From unsuspected ambuscade The very Urns of Mirth; Who bids the Heavenly Lark arise And cheer our solemn round The Jest beheld
The Mother-Lodge
There was Rundle, Station Master, An’ Beazeley of the Rail, An’ ‘Ackman, Commissariat, An’ Donkin’ o’ the Jail; An’ Blake, Conductor-Sargent, Our Master twice was ‘e, With ‘im that kept the Europe-shop, Old Framjee
Song of Diego Valdez
The God of Fair Beginnings Hath prospered here my hand The cargoes of my lading, And the keels of my command. For out of many ventures That sailed with hope as high, My own
You Must n't Swim
You must n’t swim till you’re six weeks old, Or your head will be sunk by your heels; And summer gales and Killer Whales Are bad for baby seals. Are bad for baby seals,
The Virginity
Try as he will, no man breaks wholly loose From his first love, no matter who she be. Oh, was there ever sailor free to choose, That didn’t settle somewhere near the sea? Myself,