A bull imprisoned in a stall Broke boldly the confining wall, And found himself, when out of bou… Within a washerwoman’s grounds. Where, hanging on a line to dry,

When Dr. Bill Bartlett stepped o… Of Mammon’s distracting and weari… To stand and deliver a lecture on… Conditions of Intellectual Life,’ I cursed the offender who gave him…

When lion and lamb have together l… Spectators cry out, all in chorus; 'The lamb doesn’t shrink nor the l… A miracle’s working before us!' But 't is patent why Hot-head his…

Big Smith is an Oakland School B… And he looks as good as ever he ca… And he’s such a cold and a chaste… That snowflakes all are his kin an… Wherever his eye he chances to thr…

Slain as they lay by the secret, s… Pitiless hand of an unseen foe, Two score thousand old soldiers ha… The river to join the loved and lo… In the space of a year their spiri…

So, in the Sunday papers _you_, D… Damn, all great Englishmen in Eng… I am no Englishman, but in my rea… A rogue shall never rail where her… You are the man, if I mistake you…

Lord, shed thy light upon his dese… And gild his branded brow, that no… His forfeit life to balk thy holy… That spares him for the ripening o… Already, lo! the red sign is descr…

You 're grayer than one would have… The climate you have over there In the East has apparently brough… Disorders affecting the hair, Which-pardon me-seems a thought sp…

I stood upon a hill. The setting… Was crimson with a curse and a por… And scarce his angry ray lit up th… That lay below, whose lurid gloom… Freaked with a moving mist, which,…

Welcker, I’m told, can boast a fa… And honored in the service of the… Public Instruction all his mind e… He guides its methods and its wage… Prime Pedagogue, imperious and gr…

San Quentin was brilliant. Within… Of the noble pile with the frownin… (God knows they’ve enough to make… With a Governor trying to break t… Was a blaze of light. ‘Twas the n…

If the wicked gods were willing (Pray it never may be true!) That a universal chilling Should ensue Of the sentiment of loving,

Ira P. Rankin, you’ve a nasal nam… I’ll sound it through ‘the speakin… And wondering nations, hearing fro… The brazen twang of its resounding… Shall say: ‘These bards are an un…

‘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…

It is a politician man He draweth near his end, And friends weep round that partis… Of every man the friend. Between the Known and the Unknown