His Trade-Marks (Earl Alonzo Brininstool Poems)
The cowboy ain't no dandyWhen it comes to wearin' clo'es;But when he trails to the city,He'll go as other folks ...
The cowboy ain't no dandyWhen it comes to wearin' clo'es;But when he trails to the city,He'll go as other folks ...
LAZY and slow, through the snags and trees Move the sluggish currents, half asleep; Around and between the cypress knees, ...
Last year he wanted building blocks, And picture books and toys,A saddle horse that gayly rocks, And games ...
TO DR. F. W. WHITE. Sad am de night. Now de solemn tone Creeps fum de erf to de heaben's ...
We built a castle in the air,In summer weather, you and I,The wind and sun were in your hair, -Gold ...
TO MR. J. T. RICKS. When de moon streams down On er kam still night, Let me sot by de ...
I hang limp on the Creator's penLike a large drop of lilac gloss-paint.Underneath are dykes' secrets; the airFrom the railways ...
Now 'at our foki live in townsFur winter months, I go an' sitWiv our horses stabled a mileAway. Dordy! it ...
Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees; Our loins are battered 'neath us by ...
just as the dusk comes hooting down through the shivering black leaves of the swinging trees we (the brave ones ...
There is one story and one story only That will prove worth your telling, Whether as learned bard or gifted ...
The restaurants on hot spring evenings Lie under a dense and savage air. Foul drafts and hoots from dunken revelers ...
An old man cocked his car upon a bridge; He and his friend, their faces to the South, Had trod ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
They thought I'd be a champion; They boasted loud of me. A dozen victories I'd won, The Press was proud ...
Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gleska tae Hecky MacCrimmon frae Skye: "That's whit I hate maist aboot fechtin' -- it makes ...
Said President MacConnachie to Treasurer MacCall: "We ought to have a piper for our next Saint Andrew's Ball. Yon squakin' ...
I dreamed one man stood against a thousand, One man damned as a wrongheaded fool. One year and another he ...
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares ...
Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him Wrongly of slumber, ...
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