Through sleet and fogs to the sali… Where the herring fish meanders, An army sped, and then, 't is said… Swore terribly in Flanders: “————!”

To the willows of the brookside The mill wheel sings to-day— Sings and weeps, As the brooklet creeps Wondering on its way;

At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scof… Ffor that a romping wench was shee… “Now marke this rede,” they bade h… “Forsooken sholde your folly bee!” But Madge, ye hoyden, laught &amp…

Though care and strife Elsewhere be rife, Upon my word I do not heed ‘em; In bed I lie With books hard by,

A tortuous double iron track; a st… A locomotive, tender, tanks; a coa… Some postal cars, and baggage, too… With buffers, duffers, switches, a… This is the Orient’s novel pride,…

It’s June ag’in, an’ in my soul I… That’s sure to come this time o’ y… For, every June, the Sunday-schoo… Where “fields beyont the swellin’… Where little girls are skeered to…

Republicans of differing views Are pro or con protection; If that’s the issue they would cho… Why, we have no objection. The issue we propose concerns

A little boy whose name was Tim Once ate some jelly-cake for tea— Which cake did not agree with him, As by the sequel you shall see. ‘My darling child,’ his mother sai…

The day is done; and, lo! the shad… Melt 'neath Diana’s mellow grace. Hark, how those deep, designing ma… Feign terror in this sylvan place! Come, friends, it’s time that we s…

Syn that you, Chloe, to your mode… Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures fu… Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-h… Whenas come lovers with theyre pit… Sothly it ben faire to give up you…

The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fe… And there befell the episode I no… 'T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine,—… There hove in sight one afternoon… His name wuz Silas Pettibone,—a’…

Nay, why discuss this summer heat, Of which vain people tell? Oh, sinner, rather were it meet To fix thy thoughts on hell! The punishment ordained for you

The women-folk are like to books,— Most pleasing to the eye, Whereon if anybody looks He feels disposed to buy. I hear that many are for sale,—

Come hither, lyttel childe, and li… For yonder fares an angell yclad i… And yonder sings ye angell as onel… And his songe ben of a garden that… To them that have no lyttel childe…