#AmericanWriters
Yesterday afternoon, while I was… A gust of wind blew my hat off. I swore, petulantly, but somewhat… A young woman had been near, walki… She must have heard me, I thought…
All stark and cold the merchant la… All cold and stark lay he. And who hath killed the fair merch… Now tell the truth to me. Oh, I have killed this fair merch…
They brought to me his mangled cor… And I feared lest I should swing. “O tell me, tell me,—and make it b… Why hast thou done this thing? ”Had this man robbed the starving…
When the Festal Board, as the pap… Groans 'neath the weight of a lot… At breakfast, Fruhstuck or dejeun… (As a bard tri-lingual I’m rather… At breakfast, then, if I may repe…
Horace: Book IV, Ode 11 “Est mihi nonum superantis annum—” Phyllis, I’ve a jar of wine, (Alban, B.C. 49) Parsley wreathes, and, for your tr…
Ah, Myrtilla mine, you said– And your tone was earnest, very– You would never deck your head With this vernal millinery. Myrt, to mince no words, you lied;
Horace: Book III, Ode 9 “Donec eram gratus tibi—” HORACE, PVT.—TH INFANTR… While I was fussing you at home You put the notion in my dome
Horace: Epode 25 “Nox erat et cælo fulgebat Luna… How sweet the moonlight sleeps,"… “Upon this bank!” that starry nigh… The night you vowed you’d be devot…
What time I read your mighty line… O Mr. Q. Horatius Flaccus, In praise of many an ancient wine— You twanged a wickid lyric to Bac… I wondered, like a Yankee hick,
Swift was sweet on Stella; Poe had his Lenore; Burns’ fancy turned to Nancy And a dozen more. Poe was quite a trifler;
Horace: Book II, Elegy 2 “Liber eram et vacuo meditabar viv… I was free. I thought that I had… Love’s Antarctic Zone. “A truce to sentiment,” I said. “…
In 1909 toilet goods were not cons… In 1919 an assortment of perfumes… —From “How the Farmer Has Change… Maud Muller, on a summer’s day, Powdered her nose with Bon Sachet…
Man hath harnessed the lightning; Man hath soared to the skies; Mountain and hill are clay to his… Skillful he is, and wise. Sea to sea hath he wedded,
(Why don’t you ever write any chil… —A MOTHER.) My right-hand neighbour hath a chi… A pretty child of five or six, Not more than other children wild,
BY MOTHER GOOSE AND O… Bennie’s kisses left me cold, Eddie’s made me yearn to die, Jimmie’s made me laugh aloud,— But Georgie’s made me cry.