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…

The rimer quenches his unheeded fi… The sound surceases and the sense… Then the domestic dog, to east and… Expounds the passions burning in h… The rising moon o’er that enchante…

Hangman’s hands laid in this tomb… Imp of Satan’s getting, whom an Ancient legend says that woman Never bore-he owed his birth To Sin herself. From Hell to Ear…

I saw-’t was in a dream, the other… A man whose hair with age was thin… One hundred years had bettered by… And still his step was firm, his e… Before him and about him pressed a…

Why should he not have been allowe… To thread with peaceful feet the c… Which filled that Christian stree… The Decalogue he had observed, From Faith in Jesus had not swerv…

‘If life were not worth having,’ s… ‘T would have in suicide one pleas… ‘An error,’ said the pessimist, 'y… What’s not worth having cannot be…

Ben Truman, you’re a genius and c… Though one would not suspect it fr… You lack that certain spareness wh… Distinctive of the persons who mak… You show the workmanship of Stanf…

Beneath my window twilight made Familiar mysteries of shade. Faint voices from the darkening do… Were calling vaguely to the town. Intent upon a low, far gleam

What! _you_ whip rascals?-_you_, w… Bears, in its dark, dishonorable f… Enough of prison-birds’ prolific g… To serve a whole eternity of terms… _You_, for whose back the rods and…

‘I beg you to note,’ said a Man t… As he plucked from her bosom the p… 'That pillows and cushions of feat… As warm as maids’ hearts and as so… Increase of life’s comforts the ge…

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…

So, in the Sunday papers _you_, D… Damn, all great Englishmen in Eng… I am no Englishman, but in my rea… A rogue shall never rail where her… You are the man, if I mistake you…

As some enormous violet that tower… Colossal o’er the heads of lowlier… Its giant petals royally displayed… And casting half the landscape int… Delivering its odors, like the blo…

The Widows of Ashur Are loud in their wailing: ‘No longer the ’masher’ Sees Widows of Ashur!' So each is a lasher

Thou shalt no God but me adore: 'Twere too expensive to have more. No images nor idols make For Roger Ingersoll to break. Take not God’s name in vain: sele…