The porter in the Pullman car Was charming, as they sometimes ar… He scanned my baggage tags: “Are… The man who wrote of Lady Lou?” When I said “yes” he made a fuss…

Fat lady, in your four—wheeled cha… Dolled up to beat the band, At me you arrogantly stare With gold lorgnette in hand. Oh how you differ from the dame

“But it isn’t playing the game,” h… And he slammed his books away; “The Latin and Greek I’ve got in… Will do for a duller day.” “Rubbish!” I cried; “The bugle’s…

Past ash cans and alley cats, Fetid. overflowing gutters, Leprous lines of rancid flats Where the frowsy linen flutters; With a rattle and a jar,

When I played my penny whistle on… The heather bloomed about us, and… As you bent above your knitting so… And fine and soft and slow the rai… Your cheeks were pink like painted…

My job is done; my rhymes are rank… My word-battalions marching verse… Here stanza-companies are none too… There print-platoons are weak, but… And as in marshalled order I revi…

Her smile ineffably is sweet, Devinely she is slim; Yet oh how weary are her feet, How aches her every limb! Thank God it’s near to closing ti…

I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete; I cloister it from care and strife And keep it sane and sweet. With eager eyes I greet the morn,

The God of Scribes looked down an… The bitter band of seven, Who had outraged his holy law And lost their hope of Heaven: Came Villon, petty thief and pimp…

You’ve heard of Julot the apache,… Montmartre was their hunting—groun… A little chap just like a boy, wit… Yet there was nothing juvenile in… From head to heel as tough as stee…

The Men of Seville are, they say, The laziest of Spain. Consummate artists in delay, Allergical to strain; Fr if you have a job for them,

(The Dark Side) My mind goes back to Fumin Wood,… Eight days of hunger, thirst and c… Waist—deep in mud and mad with woe… We fought like fiends and waited f…

Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the P… And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaz… When War was rampant in the land,

The Spirit of the Unborn Babe pe… Peered through the window—pane tha… For, oh, the sky was desolate and… And how the little room was cramme… Except the flirting of the fire th…