| The Spell of the Yukon or
Songs of a Sourdough Ballads of a Cheechako Rhymes of a Rolling Stone Rhymes of a Red Cross Man Ballads of a Bohemian Twenty Bath-Tub Ballads Bar-Room Ballads Songs of a Sun-Lover Rhymes of a Roughneck Lyrics of a Low Brow Rhymes of a Rebel Songs For My Supper Carols of an Old Codger Rhymes for My Rags Cosmic Carols Verse from Prose Writings Unpublished Verse | Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are
Outmoded now.
I do not know, for I am far
From high of brow.
But if the twain you take away,
Since basely bred,
Proud Poetry, I dare to say,
Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define
My role in rhyme:
Oh may I never write a line
That does not chime.
And though a verse be nigh as sweet
As honey-comb,
To please me, let it have the beat
Of metronome. So to my modest muse I give
A grateful pen;
Of lowliness I sing, who live
With lowly men.
And though I never cease to grieve
Poetic lack,
I do my best, - please take or leave
A Verseman's Pack. From Carols of an Old Codger |
