Now Lonergan appears upon the boa… And Truth and Error sheathe their… No more in wordy warfare to engage… The commentators bow before the st… And bookworms, militant for ages p…

Death-poet Pickering sat at his d… Wrapped in appropriate gloom; His posture was pensive and pictur… Like a raven charming a tomb. Enter a party a-drinking the cup

He held a book in his knotty paws, And its title grand read he: 'The Chronicles of the Kings’ it… By the History Companee. 'I’m a monarch,' he said

I dreamed that Gabriel took his h… On Resurrection’s fateful morn, And lighting upon Laurel Hill Blew long, blew loud, blew high an… The houses compassing the ground

'Why, Goldenson, you’re looking v… Said Death as, strolling through… He entered that serene assassin’s… And hung his hat and coat upon a n… ‘I think that life in this seclude…

John S. Hittell, whose sovereign… The quill his tributary body yield… The author of an opera-that is, All but the music and libretto’s h… A work renowned, whose formidable…

That land full surely hastens to i… Where public sycophants in homage… The populace to flatter, and repea… The doubled echoes of its loud con… Lowly their attitude but high thei…

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 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

Come in, old gentleman. How do yo… Delighted, I’m sure, that you’ve… I’m a sociable sort of a chap and… Are a pleasant-appearing person, t… With a head agreeably bald.

Christmas, you tell me, comes but… One place it never comes, and that… Here, in these pages no good wishe… No well-worn greetings tediously r… For Christmas greetings are like…

Must you, Carnegie, evermore expl… Your worth, and all the reasons gi… Why black and red are similarly wh… And you and God identically right… Still must our ears without redres…

Still as he climbed into the publi… His charms of person more apparent… Till the pleased world that watche… Saw nothing of him but his nether… Forgot his follies with his head’s…

With crow bones all the land is wh… From the gates of morn to the gate… Picked clean, they lie on the cumb… And the politician’s paunch is rou… And he strokes it down and across…

I dreamed one night that Stephen… And for admission up at Heaven ap… ‘Who are you?’ asked St. Peter.… ‘Jeems Pipes, of Pipesville.’ Pe… Opened the gates and said: 'I’m g…