The sextant of the meetinouse, which sweeps And dusts, or is supposed too! and makes fiers, And lites the gas and sometimes leaves a screw loose, in which case it smells orful - worse than lampile;...
All that a man can say of woman's charms, Mine eyes have spoken and my lips have told To you a thousand times. Your perfect arms (A replica from that lost Melos mould),...
I sit before the firelight's glow With all the world in apogee, And con good Master Florio With pipe a-light; and as I see Queen Bess herself with book a-knee, Reading it o'er and o'er again,...
Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him:...
There is too much beauty upon this earth For lonely men to bear, Too many eyes, too enchanted skies, Too many things too fair; And the man who would live the life of a man...
Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him:...
I bought every kind of machine that's known - Grinders, shellers, planters, mowers, Mills and rakes and ploughs and threshers - And all of them stood in the rain and sun, Getting rusted, warped and battered,...
Abe Martin! - dad-burn his old picture! P'tends he's a Brown County fixture - A kind of a comical mixture Of hoss-sense and no sense at all! His mouth, like his pipe, 's allus goin',...
The little hands returning wistfully From birdlike wand'rings, ever come to rest, On fostering hand on tender cheek or breast; The upturned eyes, with loving certainty...
O child of mine, my little Son, alas! Beneath the sunlight of Thy gentle eyes, Too soon, too soon, what fateful shadows rise, Like night foretold in some sweet woodland glass?...
Behold! the Tabernacle of God's Will This woman's form enshrineth. What is this, More glorious than all our age-long bliss, Which shines within the shadow of her sill?...
He halted in the wind, and, what was that Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? He stood there bringing March against his thought, And yet too ready to believe the most. ...
One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand To tired little May. "Come, go with me to Wonderland," She said, "I know the way. Just rock-a-by - hum-m-m, And lo! we come...