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ALFRED NOYES AMY LOWELL bang bells bleed for ye blue Bo-peep boom Browning burlesque of sound Chesterton clangaranga coffee—drink Curly-locks dances dear door a baby DRAMA OF SUMMER dream drink Clink-clink echoes EDGAR LEE MASTERS eyes EZRA POUND faeries feast upon strawberries fire fol-de-rol-dee Four and ninety GEORGE WOLFE PLANK HAMMOCK LITERATURE hands HARRY GRAHAM haunt heard heart for singing Heaven JAMES OPPENHEIM JOHN MASEFIELD knew Lady of Gold LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE laugh lemon lips loud lyric moon name of names never night ninety blackbirds Oh love parody of sense poem POET present parodist queer rhyme Robert Frost Rondeau silver skies Slave smiling Song soul stars subtle splendor Tells There's things Thou shalt thought thrill took to fun tree Vachel Lindsay verse W. E. Henley well-beloved sheep wilder ringing WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WILLIAM ROSE BENET wind wine wings yearning that devours
Page 121 - I surged through a hole i' the gate; And I knew that the Bishop was saying, "Too late." * * * They tell me that no one believed me; I never was asked to the feast. . . . My dears, 'twas the cabby deceived me — The beast!
Page 44 - OF all the mismated pairs ever created The worst of the lot were the Spratts. Their life was a series of quibbles and queries And quarrels and squabbles and spats. They argued at breakfast, they argued at tea, And they argued from midnight to quarter past three.
Page 9 - ... and classes of parody ; pointing out the difference between the mere burlesque of sound and the subtler (and more critical) parody of sense. After which the reader is rather sharply told that the latter form is the only one worth serious consideration. The reader is also given to understand, in a coy and surprisingly modest last sentence, that the present parodist employs only this more elevated and illuminating method.
Page 20 - What does it matter — who are we to say How much is clear and how much there must be Behind his mystical directness — see, He left us smiling, and a bit astray. Yet there were times when Simon would convey A cryptic sharpness, etched with something free; For he was touched with fire and prophecy, And we who scarcely knew him, mourn him . . . Eh? I'll say this much for Simon: If his ghost Has half the life of many men, or most, He will not rest in the ophidian night. He will come back and storm...
Page 23 - Old Adam Brown is dead and gone ; you'll never See him any more. He used to wear A long, brown coat that buttoned down before. That's all I ever knew of him ; I guess that's all That anyone remembers. Eh?
Page 46 - And THE MORAL is this (though a bit abstruse) : What's sauce for a more or less proper goose, When it rouses the violent, feminine dander, Is apt to be sauce for the propaganda.
Page 19 - TOM, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig, and away he run ! The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street ! XXXVII.
Page 61 - And that's not all our well-known festive cheer — There's ivy in the yard, and heaps of parsley. Come, twine some in your hair — and say, old dear, -Don't do it sparsely. "The flat's all ready for the sacrifice; In every corner handy to display it, There's silver. . . . Yes, the house looks extra nice, If I do say it. " The very flame is trembling, and the smoke Goes whirling upward with an eager rustling; The household's overrun with busy folk. Just see them hustling! " What's that? You want...
Page 66 - Such little things Do give me joy. The tree has leaves, The road has miles, And nothing grieves Whene'er it smiles. The crops have sun; The streams close by Do ramble on, And so do I. And happy then My lot shall be While rook and wren Build in the tree; While ring-doves coo, And lions roar, As long as two And two are four. II Edgar A. Guest Considers "The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe...
Page 34 - ... clangaranga — boom, boom-ah ; Rejoice, oh people, ye shall live and be Free and equal in a land made free ! ' " WHAT? " ' Well, almost equal — almost free. Fear no more from tyranny, But with loud democracy While the starry symbol waves In a land of liberty, Yankees never shall be slaves ! ' "Bang, bang; ding-dong — boom, boom-ah; Clangaranga, clangaranga — sis-boom-bah. Bang — Bang — bang — bang — BANG ! Ssshh. . . . Pop. . . . Pop. . . . Pop. . . . Bah. . . ! " " Why, you read...