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With You In My Life
My Life was a book of empty pages,
Some shredded in rages,
Others crayoned in black,
Proof how my life was a wreck.
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
A Little Prayer
Let us be thankful, Lord, for little things-
The song of birds, the rapture of the rose;
Cloud-dappled skies, the laugh of limpid springs,
Drowned sunbeams and the perfume April blows;
Weep No More My Child
Look in my eyes,
What's in your eyes?
What can you see when you look in my eyes?
Your eyes is so meek and full of kindness,
Out of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,
Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.
What We Needed.
What does our country need? Not armies standing
With sabres gleaming ready for the fight.
Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,
To bound the waters with an iron might.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
He never made a fortune, or a noise
In the world where men are seeking after fame;
But he had a healthy brood of girls and boys
Who loved the very ground on which he trod.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Very Many People
On the Downs, in the Weald, on the Marshes,
I heard the Old Gods say:
"Here come Very Many People:
"We must go away.
Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything
To do it as for Thee.
To feel it coming,
The throat choking feeling and its painful lumps
From the aching heart that shuttered your mood to the fear that after kicks in
It's useless fighting it off,
Give me your hand, oh little one!
Like children be we two;
Yet I am old, my day is done
That barely breaks for you.
The Holy Fair
A note of seeming truth and trust
Hid crafty observation;
And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
The dirk of defamation:
Being clean, tidy & well dressed,
Is a outer sense,
Clever, sharp, & intelligent
Is an inner understanding of smart.
South Of My Days
South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country,
rises that tableland, high delicate outline
of bony slopes wincing under the winter,
low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite-
They Went Home
They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.
Absalom And Achitophel
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin,
Before polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multipli'd his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confin'd:
IT is not Love, this beautiful unrest,
This tremor of longing that invades my breast:
The Great Hunger
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
Why need we newer arms invent,
Poor peoples to destroy?
With what we have let's be content
And perfect their employ.
The Rivers Prayer
Someone pass by and drive this person away from me,
May you please stop; you are hurting me,
Are you mad that you forgetting am the source of those breezes that warms your body at night?
During the summer time!
When The Young Are Grown
Once the house was lovely, but it's lonely here to-day,
For time has come an' stained its walls an' called the young away;
An' all that's left for mother an' for me till life is through
Is to sit an' tell each other what the children used to do.
Edgar Albert Guest
The War In The Air
For a saving grace, we didn't see our dead,
Who rarely bothered coming home to die
But simply stayed away out there
In the clean war, the war in the air.
The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill
I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie,
Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die-
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
Who Needs School?
In the future, fifteen years from now,
This won't matter,
My name carved into that desk will just be a carving,
And the pot-bellied children will still be starving.
A Rolling Stone
There's sunshine in the heart of me,
My blood sings in the breeze;
The mountains are a part of me,
I'm fellow to the trees.
The dark of Modred's hour not yet availing,
Gawaine it was who gave the King no peace;
Gawaine it was who goaded him and drove him
To Joyous Gard, where now for long his army,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?
You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out ‘ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
Their reward is
they become innocent again,
and when they reappear in memory
Social Forestry Day
Nation observed 2nd June annually,
As Social Forestry Day to love & respect,
Our beloved Fourth King and,
Community to manage our resources sensibly.
All The Dead Dears
Rigged poker -stiff on her back
With a granite grin
This antique museum-cased lady
Lies, companioned by the gimcrack
The Boy's Ideal
I must be fit for a child to play with,
Fit for a youngster to walk away with;
Fit for his trust and fit to be
Ready to take him upon my knee;
Edgar Albert Guest
King Henry Vii And The Shipwrights
Harry, our King in England, from London town is gone,
And comen to Hamull on the Hoke in the Countie of Suthampton.
For there lay the Mary of the Tower, his ship of war so strong,
And he would discover, certaynely, if his shipwrights did him wrong.