See, what a wonderful garden is here,

Once more you stand in your native land,With your native sky above you.Ah, side by side, in years agone,We’ve faced tempestuous weather,And often quaffedThe genial draughtFrom the same canteen together.When honor at Philippi fellA prey to brutal passion,I regret to say that my feet ran awayIn swift Iambic fashion.You were no poet; soldier born,You stayed,…

When he–he came pursuingA love unused to art.Into the drowsy riverThe moon transported flungHer soul that seemed to quiverWith the songs my lover sung.And the stars in rapture twinkledOn the slumbrous world below–You see that, old and wrinkled,I’m not forgetful–no!He still should be repeatingThe vows he uttered then–Alas! the years, though fleeting,Are truer yet than…

By far too numerous to be mentioned,And scarred as I’m,It seemeth timeThat I were mustered out and pensioned.So on this wallMy lute and allI hang, and dedicate to Venus;And I imploreBut one thing moreEre all is at an end between us.O goddess fairWho reignest whereThe weather’s seldom bleak and snowy,This boon I urge:In anger scourgeMy…

Balow, my boy!When that his toile ben done,Daddie will come anone,-Hush thee, my lyttel one;Balow, my boy!Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunceFayries will come to daunce,-Balow, my boy!Oft hath thy moder seeneMoonlight and mirkland queeneDaunce on thy slumbering een,-Balow, my boy!Then droned a bomblebeeSaftly this songe to thee:‘Balow, my boy!’And a wee heather bell,Pluckt from a…

For every flower I had a name–My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees;I knew where thrived in yonder glenWhat plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe–Oh, I was very learned then;But that was very long ago!I knew the spot upon the hillWhere checkerberries could be found,I knew the rushes near the millWhere pickerel lay that weighed…

So come, my sweet collector friends, and listen while I singUnto your delectation this brief, pathetic thing-No lyric pitched in vaunting key, but just a requiemOf blowing twenty dollars in by nine o’clock a.m.Let critic folk the poet’s use of vulgar slang upbraid,But, when I’m speaking by the card, I call a spade a spade;And…