Says Gerald Massey: ‘When I writ… Of souls of the departed guides my… How strange that poems cumbering o… Penned by immortal parts, have non…

As time rolled on the whole world… A desolation and a darksome curse; And some one said: ‘The changes t… In the fair frame of things, from… Are wrought by strikes. The sun w…

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,

The Senate woke; the Chairman’s s… Was stilled, its echoes balking; The startled members dreamed no mo… For Steele, who long had held the… Had suddenly ceased talking.

O Buddha, had you but foreknown The vices of your priesthood It would have made you twist and m… As any wounded beast would. You would have damned the entire l…

You say, John Irish, Mr. Taylor… A painted beard. Quite likely tha… And sure 'tis natural you spend yo… On what has been least merciful to… By Taylor’s chin, if I am not mis…

Great poets fire the world with fa… That make a crackling racket, But I’m content with but a whispe… To warm some single jacket.

Old Nick from his place of last r… Came up and looked the world over. He saw how the grass of the good w… And the wicked lived in clover. And he gravely said: ‘This is all…

As through the blue expanse he ski… On joyous wings, the late Frank Hutchings overtakes Miss S… Both bound for Heaven’s high gate… In life they loved and (God knows…

Each to his taste: some men prefer… At mystery, as others at piquet. Some sit in mystic meditation; som… Parade the street with tambourine… One studies to decipher ancient lo…

‘Lothario is very low,’ So all the doctors tell. Nay, nay, not _so_-he will be, tho… If ever he get well.

To flatter your way to the goad of… O plausible Mr. Perkins, You’ll need ten tons of the softes… And butter a thousand firkins. The soap you could put to a better…

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…

Grief for an absent lover, husband… Is barely felt before it comes to… A score of early consolations serv… To modify its mouth’s dejected cur… But woes of creditors when debtors…

‘What is that, mother?’ ‘The funny man, child. His hands are black, but his heart… ‘May I touch him, mother?’ ‘T were foolishly done: