We couldn't sit and study for the law; The stagnation of a bank we couldn't stand; For our riot blood was surging, and we didn't need much urging To excitements and excesses that are banned....
Oh, how good it is to be Foot-loose and heart-free! Just my dog and pipe and I, underneath the vast sky; Trail to try and goal to win, white road and cool inn;...
When from my fumbling hand the tired pen falls, And in the twilight weary droops my head; While to my quiet heart a still voice calls, Calls me to join my kindred of the Dead:...
"And now, blow out your candle, lad, and get to bed. See, the dawn is in the sky. Open your window and let its freshness rouge your cheek. You've earned your rest. Sleep." ...
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,...
Out of the night a crash, A roar, a rampart of light; A flame that leaped like a lash, Searing forever my sight; Out of the night a flash, Then, oh, forever the Night!
"Deny your God!" they ringed me with their spears; Blood-crazed were they, and reeking from the strife; Hell-hot their hate, and venom-fanged their sneers, And one man spat on me and nursed a knife....
Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I am red-tongued with desire; Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar, gummy fagots of the pine, Heap them on me, let me hug them to my eager heart of fire,...
What do they matter, our headlong hates, when we take the toll of our Dead? Think ye our glory and gain will pay for the torrent of blood we have shed?...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant; Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant; Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;...
When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay, I hope that it won't be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say. And I hope that it won't be heaven, with some of the parsons I've met -...
I wanted the gold, and I sought it; I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy - I fought it, I hurled my youth into the grave. I wanted the gold and I got it -...
The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane, Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night; For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain;...
The cow-moose comes to water, and the beaver's overbold, The net is in the eddy of the stream; The teepee stars the vivid sward with russet, red and gold, And in the velvet gloom the fire's a-gleam....
My stretcher is one scarlet stain, And as I tries to scrape it clean, I tell you wot - I'm sick with pain For all I've 'eard, for all I've seen; Around me is the 'ellish night,...
I will not wash my face; I will not brush my hair; I "pig" around the place - There's nobody to care. Nothing but rock and tree; Nothing but wood and stone, Oh, God, it's hell to be...
That Barret, the painter of pictures, what feeling for color he had! And Fanning, the maker of music, such melodies mirthful and mad! And Harley, the writer of stories, so whimsical, tender and glad! ...
The waves have a story to tell me, As I lie on the lonely beach; Chanting aloft in the pine-tops, The wind has a lesson to teach; But the stars sing an anthem of glory I cannot put into speech. ...