You say, John Irish, Mr. Taylor… A painted beard. Quite likely tha… And sure 'tis natural you spend yo… On what has been least merciful to… By Taylor’s chin, if I am not mis…

O nonsense, parson-tell me not the… And jubilate who follow your dicta… The good are the unhappiest lot al… I know they are from careful obser… If freedom from the terrors of dam…

WITH saintly grace and reverent… She walked among the graves with m… Her every footfall seemed to be A benediction on the dead. The guardian spirit of the place

Grief for an absent lover, husband… Is barely felt before it comes to… A score of early consolations serv… To modify its mouth’s dejected cur… But woes of creditors when debtors…

‘You acted unwisely,’ I cried, ‘a… By the outcome.’ He calmly eyed m… ‘When choosing the course of my ac… ‘I had not the outcome to guide me…

‘Who drives fat oxen should himsel… Who sings for nobles, he should no… There’s no _non sequitur_, I thin… And this is logic plain as a, b, c… Now, Hector Stuart, you’re a Sco…

When Man and Woman had been made, All but the disposition, The Devil to the workshop strayed… And somehow gained admission. The Master rested from his work,

What! _you_ whip rascals?-_you_, w… Bears, in its dark, dishonorable f… Enough of prison-birds’ prolific g… To serve a whole eternity of terms… _You_, for whose back the rods and…

To Parmentier Parisians raise A statue fine and large: He cooked potatoes fifty ways, Nor ever led a charge. '_Palmam qui meruit’_-the rest

Wild wanton Luxury lays waste the… With difficulty tilled by Thrift’… Then dies the State!-and, in its… The millionaires, all maggot-like,… Alas! was it for this that Warren…

‘To the will of the people we loya… That’s the minority shibboleth now… O noble antagonists, answer me fla… What would you do if you didn’t do…

Here lies Greer Harrison, a well… So small a tenant of so big a hous… He joyed in fighting with his eyes… Prudently pendent from a peaceful… And loved to loll on the Parnassi…

Says Gerald Massey: ‘When I writ… Of souls of the departed guides my… How strange that poems cumbering o… Penned by immortal parts, have non…

'What’s in the paper?' Oh, it’s d… There’s nothing happening at all-a… After the war-storm. Mr. Someone’… Killed by her lover with, I think… A fire on Blank Street and some b…