#AmericanWriters
Writer folk across the bay Take the pains to see and say All their upward palms in air: 'Joaquin Miller’s cut his hair!' Hasten, hasten, writer folk
O Abner Doble-whose 'catarrhal na… Budd of that ilk might envy-'tis a… Rude thing to say, but it is plain… Your name is to be sneezed at: its… Will 'fill the speaking trump of f…
When men at candidacy don’t conniv… From that suspicion if their frien… The teeth and nails with which the… Should be exhibited in a museum.
When, with the force of a ram that… Straight at the rear elevation of… The foot of Herculean Kilgore-sta… Or carnage unspeakable!-lit like a… Upon the Congressional door with…
Judge Armstrong, when the poor ha… To be released from vows that they… In haste, and leisurely repented,… As stern as Rhadamanthus (Minos t… And AEeacus) have drawn your fier…
I ne’er could be entirely fond Of any maiden who’s a blonde, And no brunette that e’er I saw Had charms my heart’s whole warmth to draw.
'What’s in the paper?' Oh, it’s d… There’s nothing happening at all-a… After the war-storm. Mr. Someone’… Killed by her lover with, I think… A fire on Blank Street and some b…
The pig is taught by sermons and e… To think the God of Swine has sno… Judibras.
Judge Shafter, you’re an aged man… And learned too, I doubt not, in… And a head white with many a winte… (I wish, however that your heart w… Claims reverence and honor; but th…
Weep, weep, each loyal partisan, For Buckley, king of hearts; A most accomplished man; a man Of parts-of foreign parts. Long years he ruled with gentle sw…
I am for Cutting. I’m a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I displa… Peace rules the land with gentle s… But when the war-dogs bare their t…
It is pleasant to think, as I’m w… A-drying along my paper, That a monument fine will surely b… When death has extinguished my tap… From each rhyming scribe of the jo…
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…
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…
‘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…