A-sitttin’ on a cracker box an’ sp… I took a sudden notion that I’d k… An’ so I bought a ticket, jest as… From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Ro… An’ found myself in seven days of…
“A year to live,” the Doctor said… “There is no cure,” and shook his… Ah me! I felt as good as dead. Yet quite resigned to fate was I, Thinking: “Well, since I have to…
Said Hongray de la Glaciere unto… "I want to take a wife mon Père,"… And whose, my son?” he slyly said;… Cried, “Fi! Papa, I mean —to wed… The Marquis de la Glaciere respon…
Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I… Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar,… Heap them on me, let me hug them t… Roaring, soaring up to heaven as a… Bring me knots of sunny maple, sil…
From torrid heat to frigid cold I’ve rovered land and sea; And now, with halting heart I hol… My grandchild on my knee: Yet while I’ve eighty years all t…
The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glo… Like lords and ladies gay. A joy are they to dream beside, As in the air of eventide
A thousand books my library Contains; And all are primed, it seems to me With brains. Mine are so few I scratch in thou…
I never saw a face so bright With brilliant blood and joy, As was the grinning mug last night Of Dick, our local boy, When with a clumsy, lucky clout
tried to wash her garden slacks bu… And so she thought she’d soak 'em… It worked all right. She wrung 'e… With all that bucket load of high… She knew that it was dangerous to…
My worldly wealth I hoard in albu… My life collection of rare postage… My room is cold and bare as you ca… My coat is old and shabby as a tra… Yet more to me than balances in ba…
Should you preserve white mice in… Don’t use imported ones from Chin… For though they cost you less in m… You’ll find the Japanese ones fin… But if Chinese, stuff them with s…
“The spirits do not like the light… The medium said, and turned the sw… The little lady on my right Clutched at my hand with nervous t… (She seemed to be a pretty bitch.)
'A shilling’s worth of quinine, pl… The customer demanded. The druggist went down on his knee… And from a cupboard handed The waiting man a tiny flask:
The red—roofed house of dream desi… Looks three ways on the sea; For fifty years I’ve made it mine… And held it part of me. The pines I planted in my youth
The mule—skinner was Bill Jerome,… Two tinhorns from the dives of No… And as for sunny Southland bound,… The solitude that ringed them roun… Then when the trail crooked crazil…