She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,
And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!
I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,
Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary — then
He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.
And ah, it’s strange; for, desolate and dim,
Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;
Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in the garret there with him.
If we could feel no painOf body or of mind?Would it be for our goodIf we were calloused so,And God in mercy shouldEnd all our woe?I wonder and I doubt:It is my bright beliefWe should be poor withoutThe gift of grief.For suffering may beA blessing, not a bane,And though we sorrow weShould praise for Pain.Aye,…
And you’re all a-shakin’ like you ‘ad the chills;When your skin creeps like a pullet’s,And you’re duckin’ all the bullets,And you’re green as gorgonzola round the gills;When your legs seem made of jelly,And you’re squeamish in the belly,And you want to turn about and do a bunk:For Gawd’s sake, kid, don’t show it!Don’t let your…
The Wanderlust has haled me from the morris chairs of ease,Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth.How bitterly I’ve cursed it, oh, the Painted Desert knows,The wraithlike heights that hug the pallid plain,The all-but-fluid silence, — yet the longing grows and grows,And I’ve got to glut the Wanderlust again.Soldier, sailor, in what…
That old couple, deaf and dumbIn the second row;Wistful watching, hand in hand,Proud they understand.Shut-ins from the world away,All in all to each;Knowing utter joy as theyRead the lips of speech . . .Would, I wonder, I be glumWere I deaf and dumb?Were I quieted away,Far from din and shock?Were I spared the need to…
Saint Peter coming to await.The stopped the Keeper of the Keys,Saying: ‘What suppliants are these,Who wait me not on bended knees?‘To get my heavenly OkayA man should have been used to pray,Or suffered in some grievous way.’‘Oh I have suffered,’ cried the first.‘Of wives I had the wicked worst,Who made my life a plague accurst.‘Such…
We’ve got to make Fort Liard quick. I know the river’s bad,But, oh! the little woman’s sick . . . why! don’t you savvy, lad?’And me! Well, yes, I must confess it wasn’t hard to seeTheir little family group of two would soon be one of three.And so I answered, careless-like: ‘Why, Bill! you don’t…
