Herbert Kaufman Poems

Out in the chill seas of yesterday,
Where the waters are aching and break in tear spray,
And the beat of the waves that come crashing in pain
...

My name is Darino, the poet. You have heard? Oui, Comédie Française.
Perchance it has happened, mon ami, you know of my unworthy lays.
Ah, then you must guess how my fingers are itching to talk to a pen;
For I was at Soissons, and saw it, the death of twelve Englishmen.
...

We aren't much to look at if you judge us by the map;
Just a little bunch of Islands in the sea.
We're a peaceful sort of people, and we quite dislike to scrap;
We're so fond of our Tranquility.
...

JUST for a 'scrap of paper,'
Just for a Nation's word
Just for a clean tradition,
Just for a treaty slurred
...