The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane, Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night; For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain;...
I will not wash my face; I will not brush my hair; I "pig" around the place - There's nobody to care. Nothing but rock and tree; Nothing but wood and stone, Oh, God, it's hell to be...
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools. Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools. Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,...
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....
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. ...