Listen to his wild romances: He advances foolish fancies, Each expounded as his 'view’ Gu. In his brain’s opacous clot, ah

When Man and Woman had been made, All but the disposition, The Devil to the workshop strayed… And somehow gained admission. The Master rested from his work,

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…

Father! whose hard and cruel law Is part of thy compassion’s plan, Thy works presumptuously we scan For what the prophets say they saw… Unbidden still the awful slope

So, Parson Stebbins, you’ve relea… To say that here, and here, we pre… 'Tis a great thing an editor to sk… And hang his faulty pelt upon a na… (If over-eared, it has, at least,…

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…

Once on a time, so ancient poets s… There reigned in Godknowswhere a… So great a monarch ne’er before wa… He was a hero, even to his queen, In whose respect he held so high a…

'Twas a Venerable Person, whom I… All appareled as a prophet of a me… And in a jeremaid of objurgatory w… He lifted up his _jodel_ to the fo… O ye sanguinary statesmen, intermi…

Big Smith is an Oakland School B… And he looks as good as ever he ca… And he’s such a cold and a chaste… That snowflakes all are his kin an… Wherever his eye he chances to thr…

An 'actors’ cemetery’! Sure The devil never tires Of planning places to procure The sticks to feed his fires.

‘Let music flourish!’ So he said… Hark! ere he’s gone the minstrelsy… The symphonies ascend, a swelling… Melodious thunders fill the welkin… The grand old lawyers, chinning on…

Judge Shafter, you’re an aged man… And learned too, I doubt not, in… And a head white with many a winte… (I wish, however that your heart w… Claims reverence and honor; but th…

‘What are those, father?’ ‘States… Lacrymose, unparliamentary, wild.’ ‘What are they that way for, fathe… ’Our candidate’s better,' they sai… ‘What did they say he was, father?…

Fly, heedless stranger, from this… Where rests in Satan an offender… In point of greatness, as in point… Of new-school rascals who proclaim… Skilled with a frank loquacity to…

I drew aside the Future’s veil And saw upon his bier The poet Whitman. Loud the wail And damp the falling tear. 'He’s dead-he is no more!' one cri…