Since all that is was ever bound to be;

Snuggled in a shady lot,With behind a garden plot;Simple grub, old duds to wear,A book, a pipe, a rocking-chair . . .You would never hear me grouseIf I had a little house.Oh if I had just enoughDough to buy the needful stuff;Milk and porridge, toast and tea,How contented I would be!You could have your cake…

The mighty skies are palisades of light;The stars are blurred; the silence grows and grows;Vaster and vaster vaults the icy night.Here in my sleeping-bag I cower and pray:‘Silence and night, have pity! stoop and slay.’I have not slept for many, many days.I close my eyes with weariness — that’s all.I still have strength to feed…

Was it famine or scurvy — I fought it;I hurled my youth into a grave.I wanted the gold, and I got it —Came out with a fortune last fall, —Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,And somehow the gold isn’t all.No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)It’s the cussedest land that I know,From…

And as I sadly listened I heard this tender plea,‘Twas uttered in a voice so soft and low.‘Not guilty’ said the Jury And the Judge said ‘Set her free,But remember it must not occur again.And next time you must listen to you little daughter’s plea,’Then all the Court did join in this refrain.Chorus:‘Please Mother don’t…

She was so pure, so high above me,I marvelled how she came to love me:Or did she? Well, in her own fashion –Affection, pity, never passion.I knew I was not worth her love;Yet oh, how wistfully I stroveTo be her equal in some way;She knew I tried, and I would praySome day she’d hold her…

Ripeness is bestOf every age.With hands that foldIn pensive prayer,For grave-yard moldPrepare.From fighting freeWith fear forgot,Let ripeness be,Before the rot.With heart of cheerAt eighty odd,How man grows nearTo God!With passion spentAnd life nigh runLet us repentThe ill we’ve done.And as we blessWith happy heartLife’s mellowness–Depart.