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…

The Day of Judgment spread its gl… O’er continents and seas. The graves cracked open everywhere… Like pods of early peas. Up to the Court of Heaven sped

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

I died. As meekly in the earth I… With shriveled fingers reverently… The worm-uncivil engineer!-my clay Tunneled industriously, and the mo… My body could not dodge them, but…

O Buddha, had you but foreknown The vices of your priesthood It would have made you twist and m… As any wounded beast would. You would have damned the entire l…

Precursor of our woes, historic sp… What dismal records burn upon thy… On thee I see the maculating stai… Of passengers’ commingled blood an… In this red rust a widow’s curse a…

‘Who drives fat oxen should himsel… Who sings for nobles, he should no… There’s no _non sequitur_, I thin… And this is logic plain as a, b, c… Now, Hector Stuart, you’re a Sco…

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,

How well this man unfolded to our… The world’s beliefs of Death and… This man whose own convictions non… Nor if his maze of reason had a cl… Dogmas he wrote for daily bread, b…

I dreamed that Gabriel took his h… On Resurrection’s fateful morn, And lighting upon Laurel Hill Blew long, blew loud, blew high an… The houses compassing the ground

Christmas, you tell me, comes but… One place it never comes, and that… Here, in these pages no good wishe… No well-worn greetings tediously r… For Christmas greetings are like…

Thus the poor ass whose appetite h… Known than the thistle any sweeter… Thinks all the world eats thistles… The wit and Mentor of the country… Grins through the collar of a hors…

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

Yawp, yawp, yawp! Under the moon and sun. It’s aye the rabble, And I to gabble, And hey! for the tale that is neve…

'Twas a serious person with locks… And a figure like a crescent; His gravity, clearly, had come to… But his smile was evanescent. He stood and conversed with a neig…