#AmericanWriters
Wild wanton Luxury lays waste the… With difficulty tilled by Thrift’… Then dies the State!-and, in its… The millionaires, all maggot-like,… Alas! was it for this that Warren…
An 'actors’ cemetery’! Sure The devil never tires Of planning places to procure The sticks to feed his fires.
Twas a sick young man with a face… And an eye that was all alone; And he shook his head in a hopeles… As he sat on a roadside stone. ‘O, ailing youth, what untoward fa…
Charles Shortridge once to St. P… ‘Down!’ cried the saint with his f… ‘Tis writ that every hardy liar Shall dwell forever and ever in fi… 'That’s what I said the night tha…
Your influence, my friend, has gat… To east and west its tides encroac… There’ll be, on all God’s foot-st… No clean spot left for God to set…
Little’s the good to sit and griev… Because the serpent tempted Eve. Better to wipe your eyes and take A club and go out and kill a snake… What do you gain by cursing Nick
De Young (in Chicago the story is… ‘Took his life in his hand,’ like… And stood before Buckley-who thou… For Buckley, the man-eating monst… ‘Count fairly the ballots!’ so ran…
'Twas an Injin chieftain, in feat… Who stood on the ocean’s rim; There were numberless leagues of e… But there wasn’t enough for him. So he knuckled a thumb in his pain…
A Countess (so they tell the tale… Who dwelt of old in Arno’s vale, Where ladies, even of high degree, Know more of love than of A.B.C, Came once with a prodigious bribe
When Admonition’s hand essays Our greed to curse, Its lifted finger oft displays Our missing purse.
I dreamed that I was dead. The ye… The world forgot that such a man a… Had ever lived and written: other… Were hailed with homage, in their… Out of my grave a giant beech upgr…
'O, I’m the Unaverage Man, But you never have heard of me, For my brother, the Average Man,… My fame with rapiditee, And I’m sunk in Oblivion’s sea,
His poems Riley says that he indi… Upon an empty stomach. Heavenly P… Feed him throat-full: for what the… Upon his empty stomach empties our…
'O warrior with the burnished arms With bullion cord and tassel Pray tell me of the lurid charms Of service and the fierce alarms: The storming of the castle,
Have but one God: thy knees were… If bent in prayer to three or four… Adore no images save those The coinage of thy country shows. Take not the Name in vain. Direct