#AmericanWriters
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.
Running for Senator with clumsy p… He stooped so low, to win at least… That Fortune, tempted by a mark s… Sprang in an kicked him to the win…
Be pleased, O Lord, to take a peo… That Thine avenging sword has spa… That Thou hast parted from our li… And forced our neighbors’ lips to… Father of Mercies, with a heart c…
'By good men’s prayers see Grant… Shouts Talmage, pious creature! Yes, God, by supplication bored From every droning preacher, Exclaimed: 'So be it, tiresome cr…
Judge Armstrong, when the poor ha… To be released from vows that they… In haste, and leisurely repented,… As stern as Rhadamanthus (Minos t… And AEeacus) have drawn your fier…
Christmas, you tell me, comes but… One place it never comes, and that… Here, in these pages no good wishe… No well-worn greetings tediously r… For Christmas greetings are like…
'I saw your charms in another’s ar… Said a Grecian swain with his blo… 'And he kissed you fair as he held… A willing bird in a serpent’s coil… The maid looked up from the cinctu…
Alas for ambition’s possessor! Alas for the famous and proud! The Isle of Manhattan’s best dres… Is wearing a hand-me-down shroud. The world has forgotten his glory;
Unhappy State! with horrors still… Thy Hugo dead, thy Boulanger aliv… A Prince who’d govern where he da… And who for power would his birthr… Who, anxious o’er his enemies to r…
San Quentin was brilliant. Within… Of the noble pile with the frownin… (God knows they’ve enough to make… With a Governor trying to break t… Was a blaze of light. ‘Twas the n…
A spitcat sate on a garden gate And a snapdog fared beneath; Careless and free was his mien, an… Held a fiddle-string in his teeth. She marked his march, she wrought…
Well, well, old Father Christmas,… With your thick neck and thin pret… Less redness in the nose-nay, even… Would not, I think, particularly… When seen close to, not mounted in…
Pope-choker Pixley sat in his den A-chewin’ upon his quid. He thought it was Leo Thirteen, a… He bit it intenser, he did. The amber which overflew from the…
Lord, shed thy light upon his dese… And gild his branded brow, that no… His forfeit life to balk thy holy… That spares him for the ripening o… Already, lo! the red sign is descr…
Oft from a trading-boat I purchas… And shells and corals, brought for… From the fair tropics-paid a Chri… And was content in my fool’s parad… Where never had been heard the wor…