A Wonderful Feat.

I never walk along the street
    Because I haven't any feet;
Nor is this strange when I repeat
    That I am but a garden beet.

Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

Edwin C. Ranck

Genius.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

Modern Maud Muller.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The Sissy Boy.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The Epic Of The Hog.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Four-Feet

I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can't forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.

Day after day, the whole day through,
Wherever my road inclined,
Four-feet said, "I am coming with you!"
And trotted along behind.

Now I must go by some other round,,
Which I shall never find,
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.

Rudyard

Footsteps In The Street

Oh, will the footsteps never be done?
            The insolent feet
            Thronging the street,
Forsaken now of the only one.

The only one out of all the throng,
            Whose footfall I knew,
            And could tell it so true,
That I leapt to see as she passed along,

As she passed along with her beautiful face,
            Which knew full well
            Though it did not tell,
That I was there in the window-space.

Now my sense is never so clear.
            It cheats my heart,
            Making me start
A thousand times, when she is not near.

When she is not near, but so far away,
            I could not come
            To the place of her home,
Though I travelled and sought for a month and a day.
...

Robert Fuller Murray

Genius.

There was once a young man quite erratic
    Who lived all alone in an attic,
He wrote magazine verse
    That made editors curse,
But his friends thought it fine and dramatic.

Edwin C. Ranck

The Pobble Who Has No Toes.



    I.

The Pobble who has no toes
Had once as many as we;
When they said, "Some day you may lose them all;"
He replied, "Fish fiddle de-dee!"
And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink
Lavender water tinged with pink;
For she said, "The World in general knows
There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!"


    II.

The Pobble who has no toes,
Swam across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped his nose
In a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said, "No harm
Can come to his toes if his nose is warm;
And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes
Are safe - provided he minds his nose."


    III.

The Pobble swam fast and well,
And when bo...

Edward Lear

A Country Pathway.

    I come upon it suddenly, alone -
        A little pathway winding in the weeds
    That fringe the roadside; and with dreams my own,
        I wander as it leads.

    Full wistfully along the slender way,
        Through summer tan of freckled shade and shine,
    I take the path that leads me as it may -
        Its every choice is mine.

    A chipmunk, or a sudden-whirring quail,
        Is startled by my step as on I fare -
    A garter-snake across the dusty trail
        Glances and - is not there.

    Above the arching jimson-weeds flare twos
        And twos of sallow-yellow butterflies,
    Like blooms of lorn primroses blowing loose
        When autumn winds arise.

    The trail dips - dwindles - broadens then, and lifts

James Whitcomb Riley

Like Crusoe, Walking By The Lonely Strand

Like Crusoe, walking by the lonely strand
And seeing a human footprint on the sand,
Have I this day been startled, finding here,
Set in brown mould and delicately clear,
Spring's footprint--the first crocus of the year!
O sweet invasion!    Farewell solitude!
Soon shall wild creatures of the field and wood
Flock from all sides with much ado and stir,
And make of me most willing prisoner!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich