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ABSINTHE amid ballad Bauldy MacGreegor frae beauty Bohemian Boul Brittany Cafe chap cheer clutched Cocaine cold dance David Strong dead Dome Cafe door dream drink eyes face fear Finistere flame Fourragere garret Gigolette glad gleam glory glow golden Grand Boulevard hair hand happy hear heart Hecky MacCrimmon frae hope Julot the apache knew lassie laugh leap light little wizened Spanish live look louis d'or Luxembourg MacBean MacCrimmon frae Skye Marie Toro Montparnasse moon mother never night pain Paris pass Paul Verlaine Philistine pipe polar bear poor Priscilla rhyme round Saxon Dane Says Bauldy MacGreegor says Hecky MacCrimmon seems shining sing sleep smile smoke song stare strange sweet Teddy Bear tell there's things thought to-day toil trees turn verse wait watch weary wild wonder write
Page 200 - Michael, and when will fightin' cease, And simple folks may till the soil and live and love in peace? "It's coming soon and soon, Mother, it's nearer every day. When only men who earn their wage will have a word to say; "When all who gain their honest bread in every land and soil Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of toil; "When we, the Workers, all demand: 'What are We fightin' for?' Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness — war.
Page 133 - And who shall love of these the least, And who by word or look or deed Shall pity show to bird or beast, By Me shall have a friend in need. Aye, though his sin be black as night, And though he stand 'mid men alone, He shall be softened in My sight, And find a pleader by My Throne. "So let this man to glory win; From life to life salvation glean; By pain and sacrifice and sin, Until he stand before Me — clean. For he who loves the least of these (And here I say and here repeat) Shall win himself...
Page 121 - And even dusky natives quote That classic that the world has lost, The Little Book I Never Wrote. Poor ghost ! For homes you've failed to cheer, For grieving hearts uncomforted, Don't haunt me now. . . . Alas ! I fear The fire of Inspiration's dead. A humdrum way I go to-night, From all I hoped and dreamed remote : Too late ... a better man must write That Little Book I Never Wrote.
Page 155 - I too may have such an one, and that I may write like this : I HAVE SOME FRIENDS I have some friends, some worthy friends, And worthy friends are rare : These carpet slippers on my feet, That padded leather chair; This old and shabby dressing-gown, So well the worse of wear. I have some friends, some honest friends, And honest friends are few; My pipe of briar, my open fire, A book that's not too new; My bed so warm, the nights of storm I love to listen to.
Page 132 - THE OUTLAW A wild and woeful race he ran Of lust and sin by land and sea; Until, abhorred of God and man, They swung him from the gallows-tree. And then he climbed the Starry Stair, And dumb and naked and alone, With head unbowed and brazen glare, He stood before the Judgment Throne: The Keeper of the Records spoke: " This man, O Lord, has mocked Thy Name.
Page 99 - Smith's text. 5 Alas! old man, we're wealthy now, it's sad beyond a doubt; We cannot dodge prosperity, success has found us out. Your eye is very dull and drear, my brow is creased with care, We realize how hard it is to be a millionaire. ROBERT W. SERVICE (1874-1958), Canadian author. "The Joy of Being Poor.
Page 198 - That puts the stifFenin' in yer spine and locks your jaws up tight. "There's something in your eyes, Michael, an' how you stare and stare You're looking at me now, me boy, as though I wasn't there." "It's just the things I've seen, mother, the sights that come and come A bit of broken bloody pulp that used to be a chum." "There's something on your heart, Michael, that makes ye wake at night, And often when I hear ye moan I trimble in me fright." "It's just a man I killed, mother, a mother's son like...
Page 54 - Things ! 1 sometimes wonder, after all, Amid this tangled web of fate, If what is great may not be small, And what is small may not be great. So wondering I go my way, Yet in my heart contentment sings . . . O may I ever see, I pray, God's grace and love in Little Things.
Page 203 - What d'ye think, lad; what d'ye think, As the roaring crowds go by? As the banners flare and the brasses blare And the great guns rend the sky? As the women laugh like they'd all gone mad, And the champagne glasses clink: Oh, you're grippin' me hand so tightly, lad, I'm a-wonderin
Page 131 - Boul' Mich', and who is always followed by a starved yellow cur. The other day I came across them in a little side street. The man was stretched on the pavement brutishly drunk and dead to the world. The dog, lying by his side, seemed to look at me with sad, imploring eyes. Though all the world despise that man, I thought, this poor brute loves him and will be faithful unto death.