#AmericanWriters
Here sleeps one of the greatest st… Of jurisprudence. Nature endowed him with the gift Of the juristhrift. All points of law alike he threw
With crow bones all the land is wh… From the gates of morn to the gate… Picked clean, they lie on the cumb… And the politician’s paunch is rou… And he strokes it down and across…
The lily cranks, the lily cranks, The loppy, loony lasses! They multiply in rising ranks To execute their solemn pranks, They moon along in masses.
‘You acted unwisely,’ I cried, ‘a… By the outcome.’ He calmly eyed m… ‘When choosing the course of my ac… ‘I had not the outcome to guide me…
DRAMATIS PERSONAE. _QUICK_: DE YOUNG _a Brother to Mushroo… _DEAD_: SWIFT _an Heirloom_
Dawn heralded the coming sun Fort Douglas was computing The minutes-and the sunrise gun Was manned for his saluting. The gunner at that firearm stood,
‘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?…
‘O son of mine age, these eyes los… Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sir… ‘O father, fear not, for mine eyes… I read through a millstone at dead… ‘My son, O tell me, who are those…
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!
Some one ('tis hardly new) has odd… The color of a trumpet’s blare is… And Joseph Emmett thinks the crim… On woman’s cheek a trumpet-note of… The more the red storm rises round…
Because you call yourself Knights… There’s neither Knight nor Temple… Because you thus by vain pretense… To paltry purposes traditions gran… Because to cheat the ignorant you…
Death-poet Pickering sat at his d… Wrapped in appropriate gloom; His posture was pensive and pictur… Like a raven charming a tomb. Enter a party a-drinking the cup
‘I never yet exactly could determi… Just how it is that the judicial e… Is kept so safely from predacious… ‘It is not so, my friend: though i… ’Tis kept in camphor, and you ofte…
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…
O, hadst thou died when thou wert… When at thy feet a nation knelt To sob the gratitude it felt And thank the Saviour of the Stat… Gods might have envied thee thy fa…