Running for Senator with clumsy p… He stooped so low, to win at least… That Fortune, tempted by a mark s… Sprang in an kicked him to the win…

I ne’er could be entirely fond Of any maiden who’s a blonde, And no brunette that e’er I saw Had charms my heart’s whole warmth to draw.

Oh, Marcus D. Boruck, me hearty, I sympathize wid ye, poor lad! A man that’s shot out of his party Is mighty onlucky, bedad! An’ the sowl o’ that man is sad.

I am for Cutting. I’m a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I displa… Peace rules the land with gentle s… But when the war-dogs bare their t…

How blest the land that counts amo… Her sons so many good and wise, To execute great feats of tongue When troubles rise. Behold them mounting every stump,

As vicious women think all men are… And shrew-bound gentlemen discours… As reeling drunkards judge the wor… And idlers swear employers ne’er g… Thieves that the constable stole a…

He looked upon the ships as they All idly lay at anchor, Their sides with gorgeous workmen… The riveter and planker Republicans and Democrats,

I drifted (or I seemed to) in a b… Upon the surface of a shoreless se… Whereon no ship nor anything did f… Save only the frail bark supportin… And that-it was so shadowy-seemed…

See, Lord, fanatics all arrayed For revolution! To foil their villainous crusade Unsheathe again the sacred blade Of persecution.

I dreamed I stood upon a hill, an… The godly multitudes walked to and… Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitl… With pious mien, appropriately sad… While all the church bells made a…

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.

How well this man unfolded to our… The world’s beliefs of Death and… This man whose own convictions non… Nor if his maze of reason had a cl… Dogmas he wrote for daily bread, b…

The skies they were ashen and sobe… The leaves they were crisped and s… ‘ ’ ‘ withering ’… It was night in the lonesome Octo… Of my most immemorial year;

Thou shalt no God but me adore: 'Twere too expensive to have more. No images nor idols make For Roger Ingersoll to break. Take not God’s name in vain: sele…

'The Social World’! O what a wor… Where full-grown men cut capers in… Cotillion, waltz, or what you will… And spin and hop and sprawl about… I wonder if our future Grant or S…