Edmund Vance Cooke

I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my
own just above the others; because in read more

I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my
own just above the others; because in it I recognize the union
and culmination of my own. To me it seems as if when God
conceived the world, that was Poetry; He formed it, and that was
Sculpture; He colored it, and that was Painting; He peopled it
with living beings, and that was the grand, divine, eternal
Drama.

Back of the boy is Wilson,
Pledge of his high degree,
Back of the boy is Lincoln,
read more

Back of the boy is Wilson,
Pledge of his high degree,
Back of the boy is Lincoln,
Lincoln and Grant and Lee;
Back of the boy is Jackson,
Jackson and Tippecanoe,
Back of each son is Washington,
And the old red, white and blue!

"The hand that rocks the cradle"--but there is no such hand.
It is bad to rock the baby, they read more

"The hand that rocks the cradle"--but there is no such hand.
It is bad to rock the baby, they would have us understand;
So the cradle's but a relic of the former foolish days,
When mothers reared their children in unscientific ways;
When they jounced them and they bounced them, those poor dwarfs
of long ago--
The Washingtons and Jeffersons, you know.

So you tell yourself you are pretty find clay
To have tricked temptation and turned it away,
read more

So you tell yourself you are pretty find clay
To have tricked temptation and turned it away,
But wait, my friend, for a different day;
Wait till you want to want to!

It is not the weight of jewel or plate,
Or the fondle of silk or fur;
"Tis read more

It is not the weight of jewel or plate,
Or the fondle of silk or fur;
"Tis the spirit in which the gift is rich,
As the gifts of the Wise Ones were,
And we are not told whose gift was gold,
Or whose was the gift of myrrh.