367. The Bell Buoy They christened my brother of old--
And a saintly name he bears--They gave him his place to hold
368. Sappers When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear,
("It's all one," says the Sapper),The Lord He created the Engineer,
369. Old Mother Laidinwool Old Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead.
She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her headFor said she: "The lads I've picked with when I was young and fair,
370. Giffen's Debt Imprimis he was "broke." Thereafter left
His Regiment and, later, took to drink;Then, having lost the balance of his friends,
371. Common Form If any questions
why we died,Tell them,
372. The Flowers To our private taste, there is always something a little exotic,
almost artificial, in songs which, under an English aspect and dress, are yet so manifestly the product of other skies. They affect us
373. The Verdicts Not in the thick of the fight,
Not in the press of the odds,Do the heroes come to their height,
374. The Widower For a season there must be pain--
For a little, little space I shall lose the sight of her face,
376. The Rhyme Of The Three Captains . . . At the close of a winter day,
Their anchors down, by London town, the Three Great Captains lay;And one was Admiral of the North from Solway Firth to Skye,
377. An Imperial Rescript Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed,
To ease the strong of their burden, to help the weak in their need,He sent a word to the peoples, who struggle, and pant, and sweat,
378. The Ubique There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may -
'You bike,' 'you bikwe,' 'ubbikwe' - alludin' to R.A. It serves 'Orse, Field, an' Garrison as motto for a crest,
379. The Four Angels As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee;But Adam did not need it,
380. His Apologies Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.
He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled.But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee . . .
DEAR islands of the Orient,
Where Nature's first of love was spent;
Sweet hill-tops of the summered land
Where gods and men went hand in hand
In golden days of sinless earth!
Woe rack the womb of time, that bore
The primal evil to its birth!
It came; the gods were seen no more:
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