My rhymes are rough, and often in my rhyming I've drifted, silver-sailed, on seas of dream, Hearing afar the bells of Elfland chiming, Seeing the groves of Arcadie agleam. ...
POPPIES, you try to tell me, glowing there in the wheat; Poppies! Ah no! You mock me: It's blood, I tell you, it's blood. It's gleaming wet in the grasses; it's glist'ning warm in the wheat;...
I know a garden where the lilies gleam, And one who lingers in the sunshine there; She is than white-stoled lily far more fair, And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream. ...
What d'ye think, lad; what d'ye think, As the roaring crowds go by? As the banners flare and the brasses blare And the great guns rend the sky? As the women laugh like they'd all gone mad,...
"Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay And your pen behind your ear; Will you mark my cheque in the usual way? For I'm overdrawn, I fear." Then you look at me in a manner bland,...
Light up your pipe again, old chum, and sit awhile with me; I've got to watch the bannock bake - how restful is the air! You'd little think that we were somewhere north of Sixty-three,...
Is it not strange? A year ago to-day, With scarce a thought beyond the hum-drum round, I did my decent job and earned my pay; Was averagely happy, I'll be bound. Ay, in my little groove I was content,...
"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?" "I'm going to join the Colours, Dad; They're looking for men, they say." "But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad;...