Sweet is the highroad when the skylarks call,
When we and Love go rambling through the land.
But shall we still walk gayly, hand in hand,
At the road's turning and the twilight's fall? ...
(With apologies to the singer of the “Song of the Banjo”.)
I'm a homely little bit of tin and bone;
I'm beloved by the Legion of the Lost;
I haven't got a “vox humana” tone,
And a dime or two will satisfy my cost.
I don't attempt your high-falutin' flights;
I am more or less uncertain on the key;
... Read complete poem
