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Some men were born for great things,
Some were born for small;
Some--it is not recorded
Why they were born at all;
My Uncle Bill! My Uncle Bill!
How doth my heart with anguish thrill!
For he, our chief, our Robin Hood,
Has gone to jail for stealing wood!
For longer war they came, and with a fury
That only Modred's opportunity,
Seized in the dark of Britain, could have hushed
And ended in a night. For Lancelot,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
A squeal of brakes.
Or is it a birth cry?
And here we are, hung out over the dead drop
Uncle, pants factory Fatso, millionaire.
A gradely chap wor uncle Ben
As ivver lived i'th' fowd:
He made a fortun for hissen,
An lived on't when he'r owd.
World is our home
Where we are son of sun
Moon is our mother
Where we can see our grand mother
A Ballade Of Suicide
The gallows in my garden, people say,
Is new and neat and adequately tall.
I tie the noose on in a knowing way
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
G. K. Chesterton
In Time Of Revolt
The Thing must End. I am no boy! I am
No boy! I being twenty-one. Uncle, you make
A great mistake, a very great mistake,
In chiding me for letting slip a “Damn!”
The Silent Tide
A tangled orchard round the farm-house spreads,
Wherein it stands home-like, but desolate,
'Midst crowded and uneven-statured sheds,
Alike by rain and sunshine sadly stained.
George Parsons Lathrop
The Mad Yak
I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me.
They are waiting for me to die;
They want to make buttons out of my bones.
Where are my sisters and brothers?
THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.
A serious Toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
The Odyssey: Book 06
So here Ulysses slept, overcome by sleep and toil; but Minerva
went off to the country and city of the Phaecians-a people who used
to live in the fair town of Hypereia, near the lawless Cyclopes. Now
the Cyclopes were stronger than they and plundered them, so their king
Oh, never let on to your own true love
That ever you drank a drop;
That ever you played in a two-up school
Or slept in a sly-grog shop;
ADVICE; OR THE 'SQUIRE AND THE PRIEST.
A wealthy Lord of far-extended land
Had all that pleased him placed at his command;
About the size of an old-style dollar bill,
American or Canadian,
mostly the same whites, gray greens, and steel grays
-this little painting (a sketch for a larger one?)
OLD Uncle Bob lay on the settle,
At eventide, while on the hob,
'Roe-tee-riti-too' sang the kettle,
And charmed the dear heart of old Bob.
I know but will not tell
you, Aunt Irene, why there
are soap suds in the whiskey:
Uncle Robert had to have
Uncle John, he makes me tired;
Thinks ‘at he's jest so all-fired
Smart, ‘at he kin pick up, so,
Ever'thing he wants to know.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Family Party
ime family parties we gave so long ago,
When every near-relation and distant cousins, too,
The married ones with children, Aunt Mary and Aunt Sue,
The grandpas and the grandmas, yes, everyone of kin,
Edgar Albert Guest
'I KNOW where I'd get
An ass that would do,
If I had the money
A pound or two.'
TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe.
Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and his two daughters in Missouri and Texas don't want him around.
The boys and Uncle Joe crack walnuts with a hammer on the bottom of a flatiron while the January wind howls and the zero air weaves laces on the window glass.
Joe tells the Swede boys all about Chickamauga and Chattanooga, how the Union soldiers crept in rain somewhere a dark night and ran forward and killed many Rebels, took flags, held a hill, and won a victory told about in the histories in school.
The spirit killeth, but the letter giveth life.
The week is dealt out like a hand
That children pick up card by card.
One keeps getting the same hand.
Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
The Fire at Tranter Sweatley's
THEY had long met o' Zundays--her true love and she--
And at junketings, maypoles, and flings;
Jelaludin Muhammed Akbar, Guardian of Mankind,
Moved his standards out of Delhi to Jaunpore of lower Hind,
Where a mosque was to be builded, and a lovelier ne'er was planned;
And Munim Khan, his Viceroy, slid the drawings 'neath his hand.
Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
Edgar Lee Masters
His words were magic and his heart was true,
And everywhere he wandered he was blessed.
Out of all ancient men my childhood knew
I choose him and I mark him for the best.
Edwin Arlington Robinson
An Arctic Vision
Where the short-legged Esquimaux
Waddle in the ice and snow,
And the playful Polar bear
Nips the hunter unaware;
The Old Homestead
JEST as atween the awk'ard lines a hand we love has penn'd
Appears a meanin' hid from other eyes,
So, in your simple, homespun art, old honest Yankee friend,
A power o' tearful, sweet seggestion lies.
Go sleep, my sweetie-rest-rest!
Oh soft little hand on mother's breast!
Oh soft little lips-the din's mos' gone-
Over and done, my dearie one!
A spectral film that came and went,
In its elusive way gave vent
In some unreal words which meant;
'I think therefore I am.'
Than old George Fletcher, on the British coast
Dwelt not a seaman who had more to boast: