New Collected Rhymes

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Longmans, Green and Company, 1905 - Scottish poetry - 101 pages
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Page 49 - I gaze upon the well-spread board, And have to own — oh, contradiction! Though every dainty it afford, There's nothing like the food of fiction. "The better half" — how good the sound! Of Scott's or Ainsworth's "venison pasty," In cups of old Canary drowned, (Which probably was very nasty). The beefsteak pudding made by Ruth To cheer Tom Pinch in his affliction, Ah me, in all the world of truth, There's nothing like the food of fiction! The cakes and ham and buttered toast That graced the board...
Page 84 - Tell me, O Muse of the Shifty, the Man who wandered afar," So have I chanted of late, and of Troy burg wasted of war — Now of the sorrows of Menfolk that fifty years have been, Now of the Grace of the Commune I sing, and the days of a Queen! Surely I curse rich Menfolk, "the Wights of the Whirlwind" may they — This is my style of translating [Greek text], — snatch them away!
Page 64 - practise " loud and shrill, Though May be cold and June be hot, Though April freeze and August grill, We'd rather be alive than not. And, sometimes, on a summer's day To self and every mortal ill We give the slip, we steal away, To lie beside some sedgy rill ; The darkening years, the cares that kill, A little while are well forgot ; Deep in the...
Page 31 - HALL. HELEN, thy bowling is to me Like that wise Alfred Shaw's of yore, Which gently broke the wickets three : From Alfred few could smack a four : Most difficult to score ! The music of the moaning sea, The rattle of the flying bails, The grey sad spires, the tawny sails — What memories they bring to me, Beholding thee ! Upon...
Page 19 - So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road, An' I'll be in Scotland before ye : But me and my true love will never meet again, By the bonnie, bonnie banks o
Page 34 - I am the batsman and the bat, I am the bowler and the ball, The umpire, the pavilion cat, The roller, pitch, and stumps, and all.
Page 64 - Heed not the folk who sing or say In sonnet sad or sermon chill, "Alas! alack! and well-a-day! This round world's but a bitter pill!" Poor porcupines of fretful quill! Sometimes we quarrel with our lot: We, too, are sad and careful — still, We'd rather be alive than not. What though we wish the cats at play Would some one else's garden till; Though Sophonisba drop the tray And all our worshipped Worcester spill, Though neighbours...
Page 8 - ... Never a man but was clean confessed, Jackman and archer, lord and knight, Their souls were clean and their hearts were light: There was never an oath, there was never a laugh, And La Hire swore soft by his leading staff! Had we died in that hour we had won the skies, And the Maiden had marched us through Paradise! A moment she turned to the people there, Who had come to gaze on the Maiden fair; A moment she glanced at the ring she wore, She murmured the Holy Name it bore, Then, "For France and...
Page 49 - The Food of Fiction, To breakfast, dinner, or to lunch My steps are languid, once so speedy ; E'en though, like the old gent in Punch, " Not hungry, but, thank goodness ! greedy.

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