It isn't the foe that we fear; It isn't the bullets that whine; It isn't the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn't the snipers who seek To nip our young hopes in the bud:...
At dawn of day the white land lay all gruesome-like and grim, When Bill Mc'Gee he says to me: "We've GOT to do it, Jim. We've got to make Fort Liard quick. I know the river's bad,...
O God, take the sun from the sky! It's burning me, scorching me up. God, can't You hear my cry? 'Water! A poor, little cup!' It's laughing, the cursed sun! See how it swells and swells...
Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon,...
This is the pay-day up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down; There's money to burn in the streets to-night, so I've sent my klooch to town,...
The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, And from his dream forthright a picture grew, A painting all the people thronged to see, And joyed therein - till came the Man Who Knew,...
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 -...
Walking, walking, oh, the joy of walking! Swinging down the tawny lanes with head held high; Striding up the green hills, through the heather stalking,...
The Wanderlust has lured me to the seven lonely seas, Has dumped me on the tailing-piles of dearth; The Wanderlust has haled me from the morris chairs of ease, Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth....
She risked her all, they told me, bravely sinking The pinched economies of thirty years; And there the little shop was, meek and shrinking, The sum of all her dreams and hopes and fears....
You may talk o' your lutes and your dulcimers fine, Your harps and your tabors and cymbals and a', But here in the trenches jist gie me for mine The wee penny whistle o' Sandy McGraw....
"Tell Annie I'll be home in time To help her with her Christmas-tree." That's what he wrote, and hark! the chime Of Christmas bells, and where is he? And how the house is dark and sad,...
An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street; His halo was tilted sideways, and his harp lay mute at his feet; So the Master stooped in His pity, and gave him a pass to go,...
I wish that I could understand The moving marvel of my Hand; I watch my fingers turn and twist, The supple bending of my wrist, The dainty touch of finger-tip, The steel intensity of grip;...
The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The moon, a silver wafer, clings. What shall we find when death gives leave...
"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,...