#AmericanWriters
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…
Assembled in the parlor Of the place of last resort, The smiler and the snarler And the guests of every sort The elocution chap
'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…
‘Resolved that we will post,’ the… ‘All names of debtors who do never… ‘Whose shall be first?’ inquires t… ‘Who are the chiefs of the maraudi… Lo! high Parnassus, lifting from…
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…
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,…
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…
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…
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
Says Anderson, Theosophist: 'Among the many that exist In modern halls, Some lived in ancient Egypt’s cli… And in their childhood saw the pri…
High Lord of Liars, Pickering, t… Let meaner mortals bend the subjec… Thine is mendacity’s imperial crow… Alike by genius, action and renown… No man, since words could set a ch…
Sweet Auburn! liveliest village o… Where Health and Slander welcome… Whence smiling innocence, its trib… Retires in terror, wounded and dis… Dear lovely bowers of gossip and d…
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
WITH saintly grace and reverent… She walked among the graves with m… Her every footfall seemed to be A benediction on the dead. The guardian spirit of the place
I stood upon a hill. The setting… Was crimson with a curse and a por… And scarce his angry ray lit up th… That lay below, whose lurid gloom… Freaked with a moving mist, which,…