Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron de… Alas! has run away. If always we had kept him here He had not gone astray. Painter and grainer it were vain

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…

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…

Well, well, old Father Christmas,… With your thick neck and thin pret… Less redness in the nose-nay, even… Would not, I think, particularly… When seen close to, not mounted in…

Have but one God: thy knees were… If bent in prayer to three or four… Adore no images save those The coinage of thy country shows. Take not the Name in vain. Direct

Goddess of Liberty! O thou Whose tearless eyes behold the cha… And look unmoved upon the slain, Eternal peace upon thy brow,- Before thy shrine the races press,

Republicans think Jonas Bimm A Democrat gone mad, And Democrats consider him Republican and bad. The Tough reviles him as a Dude

To flatter your way to the goad of… O plausible Mr. Perkins, You’ll need ten tons of the softes… And butter a thousand firkins. The soap you could put to a better…

Liars for witnesses; for lawyers b… Who lose their tempers to retrieve… Cowards for jurors; and for judge… Who ne’er took up the law, yet lay… Justice denied, authority abused,

Who told Creed Haymond he was wit… Had nothing better in this world t… Could no greased pig’s appeal to h… Kindle his ardor for the friendly… Did no dead dog upon a vacant lot,

A famous journalist, who long Had told the great unheaded throng Whate’er they thought, by day or n… Was true as Holy Writ, and right, Was caught in-well, on second thou…

What! photograph in colors? 'Tis… And he who dreams it is not overwi… If colors are vibration they but s… And have no being. But if Tyndall… Why, come, then-photograph my lady…

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

Charles Shortridge once to St. P… ‘Down!’ cried the saint with his f… ‘Tis writ that every hardy liar Shall dwell forever and ever in fi… 'That’s what I said the night tha…

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…