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.
For as I walked my words would chimeSo bell-like I could scarce believe;My rhymes rippled like a brook,My stanzas bloomed like blossoms gay:And that is why I dream this bookA verseman’s holiday.The palm-blades brindle in the blazeOf sunsets splendouring the sea;The Gloaming is a lilac hazeThat impish stars stab eagerly. . . .O Land of…
If you had gone to MexicoA score or so of years ago.Had not some whimsey changed your planI might have been a Mexican.With lissome form and raven hair,Instead of being fat and fair.‘Or if you’d sailed the Southern SeasAnd mated with a JapaneseI might have been a squatty girlWith never golden locks to curl,Who flirted…
Have eyes too sad for tears to wet,And for your pity wait.’But Marie only laughed and said:‘My heart they will not ache:If people starve for want of breadLet them eat cake.’The Court re-echoed her bon mot;It rang around the land,Till masses wakened from their woeWith scyth and pick in hand.It took a careless, callous phraseTo…
I tell you wot — I’m sick with painFor all I’ve ‘eard, for all I’ve seen;Around me is the ‘ellish night,And as the war’s red rim I trace,I wonder if in ‘Eaven’s height,Our God don’t turn away ‘Is Face.I don’t care ‘oose the Crime may be;I ‘olds no brief for kin or clan;I ‘ymns no…
A fig for love and greenery,Be mine a song of things to eat.Let brother bards divinely dream,I’m just plain human, as you see;And choose to carol such a themeAs ham and eggs and tea.Just two fried eggs or maybe three,With lacy rims and sunside up,Pink coral ham and amber teaPoured in a big, fat china…
For I was wanton as the windAnd tameless as the tide;So scornful of domestic hearth,And bordered garden path,I sought the wilder ways of earth,The roads of wrath.It scares me now to think of howFoolhardily I fared;Though mighty scarred of pelt and powA dozen deaths I’ve dared;Yet there are trails I would explore,And wilds that for…
