#AmericanWriters
For Gladstone’s portrait five tho… Were paid, 't is said, to Sir Joh… I cannot help thinking that such f… Transcended reason’s uttermost bou… For it seems to me uncommonly quee…
I stood upon a hill. The setting… Was crimson with a curse and a por… And scarce his angry ray lit up th… That lay below, whose lurid gloom… Freaked with a moving mist, which,…
Beneath my window twilight made Familiar mysteries of shade. Faint voices from the darkening do… Were calling vaguely to the town. Intent upon a low, far gleam
As Death was a-riding out one day… Across Mount Carmel he took his w… Where he met a mendicant monk, Some three or four quarters drunk, With a holy leer and a pious grin,
OM JONESMITH _(loquitur)_: I… The night-a rather clever thing to… How soundly women sleep _(looks at… They’re all alike. The sweetest t… Is woman when she lies with folded…
One thousand years I slept beneat… My sleep in 1901 beginning, Then, by the action of some scurvy… Who happened then to recollect my… I was revived and given another in…
The sullen church-bell’s intermitt… The dirge’s melancholy monotone, The measured march, the drooping f… A great man’s progress to his plac… Along broad avenues himself decree…
Who told Creed Haymond he was wit… Had nothing better in this world t… Could no greased pig’s appeal to h… Kindle his ardor for the friendly… Did no dead dog upon a vacant lot,
God said: ‘Let there be Man,’ and… Adam came forth and, thoughtful, w… The matrix whence his body was obt… An empty, man-shaped cavity, remai… All unregarded from that early tim…
That land full surely hastens to i… Where public sycophants in homage… The populace to flatter, and repea… The doubled echoes of its loud con… Lowly their attitude but high thei…
When men at candidacy don’t conniv… From that suspicion if their frien… The teeth and nails with which the… Should be exhibited in a museum.
I am for Cutting. I’m a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I displa… Peace rules the land with gentle s… But when the war-dogs bare their t…
Not all in sorrow and in tears, To pay of gratitude’s arrears The yearly sum Not prompted, wholly by the pride Of those for whom their friends ha…
The Swan of Avon died-the Swan Of Sacramento’ll soon be gone; And when his death-song he shall c… Stand back, or it will kill you to…
'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