#AmericanWriters
Precursor of our woes, historic sp… What dismal records burn upon thy… On thee I see the maculating stai… Of passengers’ commingled blood an… In this red rust a widow’s curse a…
By hardihood to rise and fear to s… And fitly to rebuke his sins decre… That, hide from others with what c… Night sha’n’t be black enough nor… That from himself himself can ever…
Aeronaut, you’re fairly caught, Despite your bubble’s leaven: Out of the skies a lady’s eyes Have brought you down to Heaven! No more, no more you’ll freely soa…
Must you, Carnegie, evermore expl… Your worth, and all the reasons gi… Why black and red are similarly wh… And you and God identically right… Still must our ears without redres…
Once-in the county of Marin, Where milk is sold to purchase gin Renowned for butter and renowned For fourteen ounces to the pound A bull stood watching every turn
Dies irae! dies ilia! Solvet saeclum in favilla Teste David cum Sibylla. Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus.
'Tis the widow of Thomas Blythe, And she goeth upon the spree, And red are cheeks of the bystande… For her acts are light and free. In a seven-ounce costume
Let slaves and subjects with unvar… Before their sovereign execute sal… The freeman scorns one idol to ado… Tom, Dick and Harry and himself a…
'O warrior with the burnished arms With bullion cord and tassel Pray tell me of the lurid charms Of service and the fierce alarms: The storming of the castle,
God said, ‘Let there be Crime,’ a… Brought Satan, leading Stoneman b… 'Why, that’s Stupidity, not Crime… ‘Bring what I ordered.’ Satan wit… Replied, 'This is _one_ element-w…
Listen to his wild romances: He advances foolish fancies, Each expounded as his 'view’ Gu. In his brain’s opacous clot, ah
Oh, Marcus D. Boruck, me hearty, I sympathize wid ye, poor lad! A man that’s shot out of his party Is mighty onlucky, bedad! An’ the sowl o’ that man is sad.
Saint Peter, standing at the Gate… A soul whose body Death had latel… A pleasant soul as ever was, he se… His step was joyous and his visage… ‘Good morning, Peter.’ There was…
‘Resolved that we will post,’ the… ‘All names of debtors who do never… ‘Whose shall be first?’ inquires t… ‘Who are the chiefs of the maraudi… Lo! high Parnassus, lifting from…
The cur foretells the knell of par… The loafing herd winds slowly o’er… The wise man homewards plods; I o… To fiddle-faddle in a minor key.