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;...
It is well when you've lived in clover, To mourn for the days gone by, Would I live the same life over Could I live again? Not I! But, knowing the false from the real, I would strive to ascend:...
No gift I bring but worship, and the love Which all must bear to lovely souls and pure, Those lights, that, when all else is dark, endure; Stars in the night, to lift our eyes above; ...
As I near my lonely cottage, At the close of weary day, There's a little bit of gladness Comes to meet me on the way: Dimpled, tanned, and petticoated, Innocent as angels are,...
She's milking in the rain and dark, As did her mother in the past. The wretched shed of poles and bark, Rent by the wind, is leaking fast. She sees the 'home-roof' black and low,...
Fly hence, pale care, no more remember Past sorrows with the fled December, But let each pleasant cheek appear Smooth as the childhood of the year, And sing a carol here....
Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen.
South of the Line, inland from far Durban, A mouldering soldier lies - your countryman. Awry and doubled up are his gray bones, And on the breeze his puzzled phantom moans...
It is a circumstance connected with the history of Nero, that every spring and summer, for many years after his death, fresh and beautiful flowers were nightly scattered upon his grave by some unknown hand. ...
May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire-- A crime to be punished with death-- Be condemned to eat garlic till he shall expire Of his own foul and venomous breath!...