Yielding clod lulls iron off to sleep
bloods clot the patches where they oozed
Ballade Of A Special Edition
He comes; I hear him up the street--
Bird of ill omen, flapping wide
The pinion of a printed sheet,
His hoarse note scares the eventide.
is dying the
lips of an old man murder
E. E. Cummings
I Murder Hate
I MURDER hate by flood or field,
Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at home I'll spend my bloodâ??
Life-giving wars of Venus.
Upon the threshold, red-eyed Murder stands,
Fresh from his slaughter-house of human meat,
Blood on his broken teeth and on his hands,
Blood on his nails and on his purple feet.
Lines In Defence Of The Stage
Good people of high and low degree,
I pray ye all be advised by me,
And don't believe what the clergy doth say,
That by going to the theatre you will be led astray.
William Topaz McGonagall
The bad boy of Europe,
He stands in dire disgrace,
Crying too loud his innocence
While guilt grins from his face.
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Epigramâ??Thanks for a National Victory
YE hypocrites! are these your pranks?
To murder men and give God thanks!
Desist, for shame!â??proceed no further;
God won't accept your thanks for MURTHER
PROUD is the state of its millions of men,
And proud is the state of its name;
In its borders are masters of brush and of pen,
And wide as the world is its fame.
Edgar Albert Guest
Epitaph On &Quot;Wee Johnnie&Quot;
WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know
That Death has murder'd Johnie;
An' here his body lies fu' low;
For saul he ne'er had ony.
What Can We Do?
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.
some understanding and, at times, acts of
but all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn't
Rehearsal to Ourselves
Rehearsal to Ourselves
Of a Withdrawn Delight-
The Young Soldier
It is not death
To one in dearth
Of life and its laughter,
THOU art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
When the blue shadows soothe
And the grasses and the leaves sleep
His Wedded Wife
Cry "Murder" in the market-place, and each
Will turn upon his neighbour anxious eyes
Asking: "Art thou the man?" We hunted Cain
Some centuries ago across the world.
The Whole of it came not at once
The Whole of it came not at once-
'Twas Murder by degrees-
BRUTE beast, at last you have it! Now we know
Truth's not a phrase, justice an idle show.
Your life ran red with murder, green with lust.
Blood has washed blood clean, and in the final dust
Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Oreheus To Woods
Heark! Oh heark! you guilty trees,
In whose gloomy galleries
Was the cruell'st murder done,
That e're yet eclipst the sunne.
TO-NIGHT a gilded moth took wing,
And round-a-round yon wax-light flew;
And, while his flight did her enring,
He nearer to the dazzler drew.
You observe the carven hand
With the index finger pointing heavenward.
That is the direction, no doubt.
But how shall one follow it?
Edgar Lee Masters