The Complete Poems of O. Henry. O. Henry

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       O. Henry

      The Complete Poems of O. Henry

      Including a Biography of the Author

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2017 OK Publishing

      ISBN 978-80-272-3543-8

      Table of Contents

       A Contribution

       Chanson De Bohême

       Drop A Tear In This Slot

       Hard To Forget

       Nothing To Say

       Tamales

       The Lullaby Boy

       The Murderer

       The Old Farm

       The Pewee

       Two Portraits

       Vanity

       Sleeping

       Fancies

       Trusting

       Thoughts

       Thinking

       The Crucible

       Biography of O. Henry

      A Contribution

       Table of Contents

      There came unto ye editor

       A poet, pale and wan,

       And at the table sate him down,

       A roll within his hand.

       Ye editor accepted it,

       And thanked his lucky fates;

       Ye poet had to yield it up

       To a king full on eights.

      Chanson De Bohême

       Table of Contents

      Lives of great men all remind us

       Rose is red and violet’s blue;

       Johnny’s got his gun behind us

       ‘Cause the lamb loved Mary too.

       — Robert Burns’ “Hocht Time in the aud Town.”

       I’d rather write this, as bad as it is

       Than be Will Shakespeare’s shade;

       I’d rather be known as an F. F. V.

       Than in Mount Vernon laid.

       I’d rather count ties from Denver to Troy

       Than to head Booth’s old programme;

       I’d rather be special for the New York World

       Than to lie with Abraham.

       For there’s stuff in the can, there’s Dolly and Fan,

       And a hundred things to choose;

       There’s a kiss in the ring, and every old thing

       That a real live man can use.

       I’d rather fight flies in a boarding house

       Than fill Napoleon’s grave,

       And snuggle up warm in my three slat bed

       Than be André the brave.

       I’d rather distribute a coat of red

       On the town with a wad of dough

       Just now, than to have my cognomen

       Spelled “Michael Angelo.”

       For a small live man, if he’s prompt on hand

       When the good things pass around,

       While the world’s on tap has a better snap

       Than a big man under ground.

      Drop A Tear In This Slot

       Table of Contents

      He who, when torrid Summer’s sickly glare

       Beat down upon the city’s

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