Edmund Vance Cooke
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Edmund Vance Cooke Poems
How Did You Die?
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day
We called him 'Rags.' He was just a cur, But twice, on the Western Line, That little old bunch of faithful fur Had offered his life for mine.
Moo Cow Moo
My papa held me up to the Moo Cow Moo So close I could almost touch, And I fed him a couple of times or so, And I wasn't a fraidy-cat, much.
Kisses kept are wasted; Love is to be tasted. There are some you love, I know; Be not loathe to tell them so.
Don't Take Your Troubles To Bed
You may labor your fill, friend of mine, if you will; You may worry a bit, if you must; You may treat your affairs as a series of cares,
A Courtin' Call
HIM! He dressed hisself from top ter toe To beat the lates' fash'n.
'A Triplet of Quatrains.' To deftly do what many dimly think; To fund a feeling for the world to borrow; To turn a tear to printer's ink;
He is so little to be so bold! Why, he came to the house (so I've been told) And his very first call Sufficed to install
Laugh A Little Bit
Here's a motto, just your fit-- Laugh a little bit. When you think you're trouble hit, Laugh a little bit.
An ancient ape, once on a time, Disliked exceedingly to climb, And so he picked him out a tree And said, 'now this belongs to me.
Requiescat In Pace
The man who fears to go his way alone, But follows where the greater number tread, Should hasten to his rest beneath a stone;
You may tinker with the tariff and make some simple gains, You may put on tolls or take 'em off, inducing party pains;
Comments about Edmund Vance Cooke
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
How Did You Die?
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your ...