#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Despots effete upon tottering thro… Unsteadily poised upon dead men’s… Walk up! walk up! the circus is fr… And this wonderful spectacle you s… Millions of voters who mostly are…
Munhall, to save my soul you brave… Although, to save my soul, I can’… ‘Tis naught to you, to me however… Why, bless it! you might save a mi… Yet lose your own; for still the ’…
I’d long been dead, but I returne… Some small affairs posterity was m… A mess of, and I came to see that… Received its dues. I’d hardly fin… The grave-mould still upon me, whe…
I lay in silence, dead. A woman c… And laid a rose upon my breast, an… ‘May God be merciful.’ She spoke… And added, ‘It is strange to thin… ’He loved me well enough, but ‘t w…
In fair San Francisco a good man… And he wrote out a will, for he di… Said he: ‘It is proper, when maki… To stimulate virtue by comforting… So he left all his property, legal…
The Chinatown at Bakersfield Was blazing bright and high; The flames to water would not yiel… Though torrents drenched the sky And drowned the ground for miles a…
I muse upon the distant town In many a dreamy mood. Above my head the sunbeams crown The graveyard’s giant rood. The lupin blooms among the tombs.
To him in whom the love of Nature… Imperfectly supplanted the desire And dread necessity of food, your… Fair Oakland, is a terror. Over a… Your sunny level, from Tamaletown
Goddess of Liberty! O thou Whose tearless eyes behold the cha… And look unmoved upon the slain, Eternal peace upon thy brow,- Before thy shrine the races press,
Good friend, it is with deep regre… The latest, strangest turning of y… Though any way you wear that menta… The seamy side seems always to be… Who could have thought that you wo…
Hear me sing of Sally Larkin who,… Played accordions as well as any l… And I’ve often heard it stated th… That Professor Schweinenhauer was… And that beasts were so affected w…
I’m a gorgeous golden hero And my trade is taking life. Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero Of my sibillating fife And the rub-a-dub-a-dum
LORING PICKERING _(After Pope)_ Here rests a writer, great but not… Born destitute of feeling and of s… No power he but o’er his brain des…
What! Pixley, must I hear you cal… Of all the vices that infest your… Was’t not enough that lately you d… Your money-worship in the ears of… Still must you crack your brazen c…
‘Tis Master Fitch, the editor; He takes an holiday. Now wherefore, venerable sir, So resolutely gay? He lifts his head, he laughs aloud…
