Since Chloe is so monstrous fair, With such an eye and such an air, What wonder that the world complai… When she each am’rous suit disdain… Close to her mother’s side she cli…

COBBLER Stork, I am justly wroth, For thou hast wronged me sore; The ash roof-tree that shelters th… Shall shelter thee no more!

The year has been a tedious one— A weary round of toil and sorrow, And, since it now at last is gone, We say farewell and hail the morro… Yet o’er the wreck which time has…

In Mrs. Potter’s latest play The costuming is fine; Her waist is made decollete— Her skirt is new design.

How cool and fair this cellar wher… My throne a dusky cask is; To do no thing but just to sing And drown the time my task is. The cooper he’s

Dear wife, last midnight, whilst… The tomes you so despise, A spectre rose beside the bed, And spake in this true wise: 'From Canaan’s beatific coast

As once I rambled in the woods I chanced to spy amid the brake A huntsman ride his way beside A fair and passing tranquil lake; Though velvet bucks sped here and…

This talk about the journalists th… We’ve got a Western editor that’s… He lives here in Mizzoora where t… In ante-bellum notions that they v… But the paper he is running makes…

Some men affect a liking For the prim in face and mind, And some prefer the striking And the loud in womankind; Wee Madge is wooed of many,

On afternoons, when baby boy has h… And sits, like any monarch on his… In some such wise my handkerchief… And cautiously and quietly I move… Then, with a cry, I suddenly expo…

'T is spring! The boats bound to… The breezes, loitering kindly over The fields, again bring herds and… The grateful cheer of honeyed clov… Now Venus hither leads her train;

O fountain of Blandusia, Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I’ll p… The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns

There was a certain gentleman, Be… Who lived way off in Germany a ma… And he was very fortunate in being… And so was very happy he was so. He warbled all the day

Little All-Aloney’s feet Pitter-patter in the hall, And his mother runs to meet And to kiss her toddling sweet, Ere perchance he fall.

Still serve me in my age, I pray, As in my youth, O faithful one; For years I’ve brushed thee every… Could Socrates have better done? What though the fates would wreak…