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O Lord, Our Father
© Mark Twain
O Lord, our father,
Our young patriots, idols of our hearts,
Go forth to battle - be Thou near them!
With them, in spirit, we also go forth
From the sweet peace of our beloved firesides To smite the foe.
Thank you Ambrose
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Thank you Ambrose for the kitchen door ajar,
a sign your friendship never closed on me, an amity extended
from afar although it was a distant glow I didnt really know.
Shirley of Serendipity
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Where were you Shirley of the Sanguine Lake?
Where did you disappear? The echoes of your empty house
Were almost stilled yet held to soar the scheming rough
And quaver in a hollow fear. We raked the mirrored water's edge
Seven suits
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Seven tailored suits, matching shoes and socks,
a brace of muted ties with subtle breast pocket
handkerchiefs descried, you wouldnt credit how
badly they governed you in days gone by.
Piscine kind of kinship
© Ivan Donn Carswell
To glibly say that Joe was sort of odd
quite missed the point. Peculiar in many
ways and kind of weird, I would have
been afraid of him were I a child (if I ever
"Every night I hurry home to see"
© Lesbia Harford
Every night I hurry home to see
If a letter's there from you to me.
Every night I bow my head and say,
"There's no word at all from him today."
Out of The Annexe
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It grew out of the Annexe and our Corps in a world at peace
while our army trained, magnificent in its heroic pretence,
for an implausible war. They were halcyon days
in the shelter, days that combine in easy recollections
The Forlorn
© James Russell Lowell
The night is dark, the stinging sleet,
Swept by the bitter gusts of air,
Drives whistling down the lonely street,
And glazes on the pavement bare.
The Hill Of Death
© Louisa Lawson
No downward path to death we go
Through no dark shades or valleys low,
But up and on oer rises bright
Toward the dawn of endless light.
Moocooboola Dam
© Ivan Donn Carswell
For more than a billion years weve been
nearly out of water; sincerely, a need repeatedly
exposed in calamitous reports of the tragic-comic sort
glibly cognising a collective we as the principle cause
Just wasnt right
© Ivan Donn Carswell
You lift the lid in awe, a seat and lid
upon an inside stall where you can go,
quite unlike the outside loo at home,
but oh the smell, the hellish smell
The Fugitive
© Mary Darby Robinson
Oft have I seen yon Solitary Man
Pacing the upland meadow. On his brow
Why England Is Conservative
© Alfred Austin
Because of our dear Mother, the fair Past,
On whom twin Hope and Memory safely lean,
The Sea-Shell
© Virna Sheard
Oh, fairy palace of pink and pearl
Frescoed with filigree silver-white,
Down in the silence beneath the sea
God by Himself must have fashioned thee
Just for His own delight!
It seldom snowed Part IV
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It seldom snowed they said,
perhaps theyre right
although seldom was never
in that endless summer
I love you in the morning
© Ivan Donn Carswell
I love you in the morning and at the setting of the sun
And in the hours of darkness before the day's begun
And in my waking solitude to greet the break of dawn
I grant you sleep that extra hour, although you sleep alone.
The Mountain Heart's-Ease
© Francis Bret Harte
By scattered rocks and turbid waters shifting,
By furrowed glade and dell,
To feverish men thy calm, sweet face uplifting,
Thou stayest them to tell
