#AmericanWriters
Attorney Knight, it happens so so… That lawyers, justifying cut-throa… For hire-calumniating, too, for go… The dead, dumb victims cruelly uns… Speak, through the press, to a tri…
Charles Shortridge once to St. P… ‘Down!’ cried the saint with his f… ‘Tis writ that every hardy liar Shall dwell forever and ever in fi… 'That’s what I said the night tha…
Standing within the triple wall of… And flattening his nose against a… Behind whose brazen bars he’d had… A thousand million ages to that da… Stoneman bewailed his melancholy f…
A traveler observed one day A loaded fruit-tree by the way. And reining in his horse exclaimed… ‘The man is greatly to be blamed Who, careless of good morals, leav…
The friends who stood about my bed Looked down upon my face and said: 'God’s will be done-the fellow’s d… When from my body I was free I straightway felt myself, ah me!
From end to end, thine avenue, Va… Rang with the cries of battle and… Brave lungs were thundering with d… And perspiration smoked along the… Sing, heavenly muse, to ears of mo…
What! Pixley, must I hear you cal… Of all the vices that infest your… Was’t not enough that lately you d… Your money-worship in the ears of… Still must you crack your brazen c…
The pig is taught by sermons and e… To think the God of Swine has sno… Judibras.
O ye who push and fight To hear a wanton sing Who utter the delight That has the bogus ring, O men mature in years,
You 're grayer than one would have… The climate you have over there In the East has apparently brough… Disorders affecting the hair, Which-pardon me-seems a thought sp…
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…
It is a politician man He draweth near his end, And friends weep round that partis… Of every man the friend. Between the Known and the Unknown
Come, Stanford, let us sit at eas… And talk as old friends do. You talk of anything you please, And I will talk of you. You recently have said, I hear,
What! you were born, you animated… Within the shadow of the Capitol? 'Twas always thought (and Bancrof… His trusting readers) it was reare…
As in a dream, strange epitaphs I… Inscribed on yet unquarried stone, Where wither flowers yet unstrown The Campo Santo of the time to be…