#AmericanWriters
Looking across the line, the Grec… ‘This border I will stain a Turke… The Moslem smiled securely and re… ‘No Greek has ever for his countr… While thus each patriot guarded hi…
‘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…
When Man and Woman had been made, All but the disposition, The Devil to the workshop strayed… And somehow gained admission. The Master rested from his work,
Well, I’ve met her again-at the M… She’d told me to see her no more; It was not a command-a petition; I’d granted it once before. Yes, granted it, hoping she’d writ…
Of life’s elixir I had writ, when… (Pray Heaven it spared him who th… Settled upon my senses with so dee… A stupefaction that men thought me… The centuries stole by with noisel…
Grief for an absent lover, husband… Is barely felt before it comes to… A score of early consolations serv… To modify its mouth’s dejected cur… But woes of creditors when debtors…
So, gentle critics, you would have… Not at the guilty, only just at G… Spare the offender and condemn Of… And make life miserable to Preten… 'Whip Vice and Folly-that is sati…
‘Twas a weary-looking mortal, and… Of the melancholy City of the Dis… He was pale and worn exceeding and… As if it could not matter what he… ’Sacred stranger’-I addressed him…
Well, well, old Father Christmas,… With your thick neck and thin pret… Less redness in the nose-nay, even… Would not, I think, particularly… When seen close to, not mounted in…
Delay responsible? Why, then; my… Impeach Delay and you will make a… Thrust vile Delay in jail and let… For doing all the things that it s… Put not good-natured judges under…
Hail, peerless Pun! thou last and… Most rare and excellent bequest Of dying idiot to the wit He died of, rat-like, in a pit! Thyself disguised, in many a way
'Let Glory’s sons manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State. Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.'
Editor Owen, of San Jose, Commonly known as ‘our friend J.J… Weary of scribbling for daily brea… Weary of writing what nobody read, Slept one day at his desk and drea…
Swains and maidens, young and old, You to me this tale have told. Where the squalid town of Dae Irks the comfortable sea, Spreading webs to gather fish,
So, Parson Stebbins, you’ve relea… To say that here, and here, we pre… 'Tis a great thing an editor to sk… And hang his faulty pelt upon a na… (If over-eared, it has, at least,…