Bret Harte Poems

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• Best Bret Harte Poems
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A Versemans Apology

 Alas! I am only a rhymer,
I don't know the meaning of Art;
But I learned in my little school primer
To love Eugene Field and Bret Harte.
I hailed Hoosier Ryley with pleasure,
To John Hay I took off my hat;
These fellows were right to my measure,
And I've never gone higher than that.

The Classics! Well, most of them bore me,
The Moderns I don't...Read more of this...

Australian Bards And Bush Reviewers

 While you use your best endeavour to immortalise in verse 
The gambling and the drink which are your country's greatest curse, 
While you glorify the bully and take the spieler's part -- 
You're a clever southern writer, scarce inferior to Bret Harte. 

If you sing of waving grasses when the plains are dry as bricks, 
And discover shining rivers...Read more of this...

Jim

Say there! P’r’aps
Some on you chaps
Might know Jim Wild?
17Well,—no offense:
Thar ain’t no sense
In gittin’ riled!
Jim was my chum
Up on the Bar:
That’s why I come
Down from up yar,
Lookin’ for Jim.
Thank ye, sir! You
Ain’t of that crew,—
Blest if you are!
Money? Not much:
That ain’t my kind;
I ain’t no such.
Rum? I don’t mind,
Seein’ it’s you.
Well, this yer Jim,—
Did you know him?
Jes’ ’bout your size;
Same...Read more of this...

What the Bullet sang

 O JOY of creation, 
 To be! 
O rapture, to fly 
 And be free! 
Be the battle lost or won, 
Though its smoke shall hide the sun, 
I shall find my love--the one 
 Born for me! 

I shall know him where he stands 
 All alone, 
With the power in his hands 
 Not o'erthrown; 
I shall...Read more of this...

Bookshelf

 I like to think that when I fall,
A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea,
This shelf of books along the wall,
Beside my bed, will mourn for me.

Regard it. . . . Aye, my taste is *****.
Some of my bards you may disdain.
Shakespeare and Milton are not here;
Shelly and Keats you seek in vain.
Wordsworth, Tennyson, Browning too,
Remarkably are not in view.

Who are...Read more of this...

Plain Language From Truthful James

Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.

Ah Sin was his name;
And I shall not deny,
In regard to the same,
What that name might imply;
But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.

It was...Read more of this...