Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself? Do I live in a house you would like to see? Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf? 'Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key?' ...
Father is building a new house, but I've had one given to me for my own; Brick red, with a white window, and black where it ought to be glass, and the chimney yellow, like stone....
"Mine be a cot," for the hours of play, Of the kind that is built by MISS GREENAWAY; Where the walls are low, and the roofs are red, And the birds are gay in the blue o'erhead;...
These little window dwellers, in cottages and halls, were always entertaining to me; after dancing in the window all day from sunrise to sunset they would sip of the tea, drink of the beer, and eat of the...
When you shall die and to the sky Serenely, delicately go, Saint Peter, when he sees you there, Will clash his keys and say: "Now talk to her, Sir Christopher!...
Albeit wholly penniless, Prince Charming wasn't any less Conceited than a Croesus or a modern millionaire: Though often in necessity, No one would ever guess it. He...
A poet had a cat. There is nothing odd in that-- (I might make a little pun about the Mews!) But what is really more Remarkable, she wore A pair of pointed patent-leather shoes....
She has slid down the channels Of history's annals Disguised as the child of a king, But that is a glib And iniquitous fib, For she never was any such thing:...
A fisherman lived on the shore, (It's a habit that fishers affect,) And his life was a hideous bore: He had nothing to do but collect Continual harvests of seaweed and shells,...
Matilda Maud Mackenzie frankly hadn't any chin, Her hands were rough, her feet she turned invariably in; Her general form was German, By which I mean that you Her waist could not determine...
Ah, she was music in herself, A symphony of joyousness. She sang, she sang from finger tips, From every tremble of her dress. I saw sweet haunting harmony, An ecstasy, an ecstasy,...
In days of old the King of Saxe Had singular opinions, For with a weighty battle-axe He brutalized his minions, And, when he'd nothing to employ His mind, he chose a village,...
Right in the track where Sherman Ploughed his red furrow, Out of the narrow cabin, Up from the cellar's burrow, Gathered the little black people, With freedom newly dowered,...
Down the picket-guarded lane Rolled the comfort-laden wain, Cheered by shouts that shook the plain, Soldier-like and merry: Phrases such as camps may teach, Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech,...
Now the squatters and the 'cockies,' Shearers, trainers and their jockeys Had gathered them together for a meeting on the flat; They had mustered all their forces, Owners brought their fastest horses,...
W'en I was young boy on de farm, dat 's twenty year ago I have wan frien' he 's leev near me, call Jean Bateese Trudeau An offen w'en we are alone, we lak for spik about...
How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high Her way pursuing among scattered clouds, Where, ever and anon, her head she shrouds Hidden from view in dense obscurity. But look, and to the watchful eye...