Back of each soldier who fights for France, Ay, back of each woman and man Who toils and prays through these long tense days, Is the spirit of Great Joan. For the love she gave, and the life she gave,...
I was in Dijon when the war's wild blast Was at its loudest; when there was no sound From dawn to dawn, save soldiers marching past, Or rattle of their wagons in the street....
A modern hour from London (as we spin Into a silver thread the miles of space Between us and our goal), there is a place Apart from city traffic, dust, and din,...
In the journey of life, as we travel along To the mystical goal that is hidden from sight, You may stumble at times into Roadways of Wrong, Not seeing the sign-board that points to the right....
I am the voice of the voiceless; Through me the dumb shall speak; Till the deaf world's ear be made to hear The cry of the wordless weak. From street, from cage, and from kennel,...
The voices of the city - merged and swelled Into a mighty dissonance of sound, And from the medley rose these broken strains In changing time and ever-changing keys.
Oh! I hear the people calling through the day time and the night time, They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right time. It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding,...
Through rivers of veins on the nameless quest The tide of my life goes hurriedly sweeping, Till it reaches that curious wheel o' the breast, The human heart, which is never at rest....
One ship drives east and another drives west, With the self-same winds that blow, 'Tis the set of the sails And not the gales That tell them the way to go....
The year outgrows the spring it thought so sweet, And clasps the summer with a new delight, Yet wearied, leaves her languors and her heat When cool-browed autumn dawns upon his sight. ...
A changing medley of insistent sounds, Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry...
Last night the house was crowded. Were you there? You thought our box held only two, maybe - Myself and chaperon, a matron fair. There was another whom you did not see. ...
Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great, How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate, While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate! ...
How large thy task, O teacher of the young, To take the ravelled threads by parents flung With careless hands, and through consummate care To weave a fabric, fine and firm and fair....
A toast to the splendid daughters Of the New World over the waters, A world that is great as new; Daughters of brave old races, Daughters of heights and spaces, Broad seas and broad earth places -...
Each new invention doubles our worries an' our troubles, These scientific fellows are spoilin' of our land; With motor, wire, an' cable, now'-days we're scarcely able...
Now much there is need of doing must not be done in haste; But slowly and with patience, as a jungle is changed to a town. But listen, my brothers, listen; it is not always so:...
When from our mortal vision Grown men and women go To sail strange fields Elysian And know what spirits know, I think of them as tourists, In some sun-gilded clime,...
I saw a young heart in the grasp of pain; With bruised breast, and broken, bleeding wing Shipwrecked on hopeless love's tempestuous main, Lay the poor tortured thing. ...