Of Courtesy, it is much less Than Courage of Heart or Holines… Yet in my Walks it seems to me That the Grace of God is in Cour… On Monks I did in Storrington fa…
Sally is gone that was so kindly, Sally is gone from Ha’nacker Hill And the Briar grows ever since th… And ever since then the clapper is… And the sweeps have fallen from H…
The parents of the learned child (His father and his mother) Were utterly aghast to note The facts he would at random quote On creatures curious, rare, and wi…
To exalt, enthrone, establish and… To welcome home mankind’s mysterio… Wine, true begetter of all arts th… Wine, privilege of the completely… Wine the recorder; wine the sagely…
This is the laughing-eyed amongst… My lady’s month. A season of youn… She rules the light with harmony,… The year’s first green upon the be… How often, where long creepers win…
The world is full of double beds And most delightful maidenheads, Which being so, there’s no excuse For sodomy of self-abuse.
Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one’… Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest… Had kept a Strict Regard for Tru… Attempted to Believe Matilda:
My reading is extremely deep and w… And as our modern education goes’… Unique I think, and skilfully app… To Art and Industry and Autres C… Through many years of scholarly re…
The Dromedary is a cheerful bird: I cannot say the same about the K…
Here richly, with ridiculous displ… The Politician’s corpse was laid… While all of his acquaintance snee… I wept: for I had longed to see h… Another on the Same
Who was cursed with the Sin of Pr… Godolphin Horne was Nobly Born; He held the Human Race in Scorn, And lived with all his Sisters wh… His father lived, in Berkeley Squ…
The Kings come riding back from t… The purple Kings and all their mo… They fill the street with clamorou… The Kings have broken down the Sa… Singing a great song of the easter…
Some years ago you heard me sing My doubts on Alexander Byng. His sister Sarah now inspires My jaded Muse, my failing fires. Of Sarah Byng the tale is told
Hoar Time about the house betakes… Seeking an entry for his weariness… And in that dreadful company distr… And the sad night with silent foot… On my poor fire the brands are sca…
Most Holy Night, that still dost… The keys of all the doors of sleep… To me when my tired eyelids close Give thou repose. And let the far lament of them