Mark Twain Poems

Genius, like gold and precious stones,
is chiefly prized because of its rarity.
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Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
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Good-bye! a kind good-bye,
I bid you now, my friend,
And though 'tis sad to speak the word,
To destiny I bend
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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
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These annual bills! these annual bills!
How many a song their discord trills
Of 'truck' consumed, enjoyed, forgot,
Since I was skinned by last year's lot!
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On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Albany.
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And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?
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The Bombola faints in the hot Bowral tree,
Where fierce Mullengudgery's smothering fires
Far from the breezes of Coolgardie
Burn ghastly and blue as the day expires;
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A man hired by John Smith and Co.
Loudly declared that he'd tho.
Men that he saw
Dumping dirt near his door
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