What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere, As the Lord were walking near, Whispering terrible things and dear...
What have the cavalry done? Cantered and trotted about, Routin' the enemy out, Causin' the beggars to run! And we tramped along in the blazin' heat, Over the veldt on our weary feet....
What if our numbers barely could defy The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes, Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words, Striking through English breasts the anarchy...
Looking on a page where stood Graven of old on old-world wood Death, and by the grave's edge grim, Pale, the young man facing him, Asked my well-beloved of me Once what strange thing this might be,...
He holds him from desire, all but stops his breathing lest primordial Motherhood forsake his limbs, the child no longer rest, Drinking joy as it were milk upon his breast....
What of the darkness? Is it very fair? Are there great calms and find ye silence there? Like soft-shut lilies all your faces glow With some strange peace our faces never know,...
A sound of tumult troubles all the air, Like the low thunders of a sultry sky Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare; The hills blaze red with warnings; foes draw nigh,...
What shall I do for the land that bred me, Her homes and fields that folded and fed me? - Be under her banner and live for her honour: Under her banner I'll live for her honour....
Here now forevermore our lives must part. My path leads there, and yours another way. What shall we do with this fond love, dear heart? It grows a heavier burden day by day. ...
When all is done, and my last word is said, And ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead," Let no one weep, for fear that I should know, And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so. ...
Bells ring out a joyful sound, Old and young alike seem gay; One more year has gone its round, Again we greet a New Year's Day. Whilst to some they tell of cheer, Other hearts may grief betide,...
'Twas to a small, up-country town, When we were boys at school, There came a circus with a clown, Likewise a bucking mule. The clown announced a scheme they had Spectators for to bring,...
Some day in Spring, When earth is fair and glad, And sweet birds sing, And fewest hearts are sad -- Shall I die then? Ah! me, no matter when; I know it will be sweet To leave the homes of men...
What dat scratchin' at de kitchin do'? Done heah'n dat foh an hour er mo'! Tell you Mr. Niggah, das sho's yo' bo'n, Hit's mighty lonesome waitin' when de folks is gone! ...
Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall; But I listened kin' o' keerless, not a-t'inkin' 'bout it all; An' on Sunday, too, I noticed, dey was whisp'rin' mighty much,...