The Swan of Avon died-the Swan Of Sacramento’ll soon be gone; And when his death-song he shall c… Stand back, or it will kill you to…

I muse upon the distant town In many a dreamy mood. Above my head the sunbeams crown The graveyard’s giant rood. The lupin blooms among the tombs.

I fell asleep and dreamed that I Was flung, like Vulcan, from the… Like him was lamed-another part: His leg was crippled and my heart. I woke in time to see my love

Daughter of God! Audacity divine Of clowns the terror and of brains… Not thou the inspirer of the rushi… Not thine of idiots the vocal droo… Thy bastard sister of the brow of…

An 'actors’ cemetery’! Sure The devil never tires Of planning places to procure The sticks to feed his fires.

Saint Peter, standing at the Gate… A soul whose body Death had latel… A pleasant soul as ever was, he se… His step was joyous and his visage… ‘Good morning, Peter.’ There was…

‘I never yet exactly could determi… Just how it is that the judicial e… Is kept so safely from predacious… ‘It is not so, my friend: though i… ’Tis kept in camphor, and you ofte…

The soft asphaltum in the sun; Betrays a tendency to run; Whereas the dog that takes his way Across its course concludes to sta…

In Bacon see the culminating prim… Of Anglo-Saxon intellect and crim… He dies and Nature, settling his… Parts his endowments among us, his… To every one a pinch of brain for…

The Seraphs came to Christ, and s… The man, presumptuous and overbold… Who boasted that his mercy could e… Thine own, is dead and on his way… Gravely the Saviour asked: ‘What…

Jacob Jacobs, of Oakland, he swor… 'Dat Solomon Martin-I’ll haf his… Solomon Martin, of Oakland, he sa… ‘Of Shacob Shacobs der bleed I v… So they met, with seconds and surg…

‘Sas agapo sas agapo,’ He sang beneath her lattice. 'Sas agapo’?' she murmured-'O, I wonder, now, what _that_ is!' Was she less fair that she did bea…

When a fair bridge is builded o’er… Between two cities, some ambitious… Hot for distinction, pleads for ea… To push his clumsy feet upon the s… That men in after years may single…

False to his art and to the high c… God laid upon him, Markham’s rebe… Beats all in vain the harp he touc… It yields a jingle and it yields n… No more the strings beneath his fi…

What! you were born, you animated… Within the shadow of the Capitol? 'Twas always thought (and Bancrof… His trusting readers) it was reare…