The pig is taught by sermons and e… To think the God of Swine has sno… Judibras.

Once with Christ he entered Salem… Once in Moab bullied Balaam, Once by Apuleius staged He the pious much enraged. And, again, his head, as beaver,

Come, gentlemen-your gold. Thanks: welcome to the show. To hear a story told In words you do not know. Now, great Salvini, rise

The polecat, sovereign of its nati… Dashes damnation upon bad and good… The health of all the upas trees i… By exhalations deadlier than their… Poisons the rattlesnake and warts…

Hawaii’s King resigned his breath Our Legislature guffawed. The awful dignity of death Not any single rough awed. But when our Legislators die

I saw the devil-he was working fre… A customs-house he builded by the… ‘Why do you this?’ The devil rais… 'Churches and courts I’ve built e…

That from _you_, neighbor! to whos… Each rhyming literary knacker scou… His cart-compelling Pegasus to tr… As folly, fame or famine smartly u… Admonished by the stimulating goad…

'Tis the census enumerator A-singing all forlorn: It’s ho! for the tall potater, And ho! for the clustered corn. The whiffle-tree bends in the bree…

O hoary sculptor, stay thy hand: I fain would view the lettered sto… What carvest thou?-perchance some… And solemn fancy all thine own. For oft to know the fitting word

I dreamed I was dreaming one morn… In a garden with flowers teeming. On an island I lay in a mystical… In the dream that I dreamed I was… The ghost of a scent-had it follow…

Writer folk across the bay Take the pains to see and say All their upward palms in air: 'Joaquin Miller’s cut his hair!' Hasten, hasten, writer folk

Tut! Moody, do not try to show To gentlemen and ladies That if they have not ‘Faith,’ th… Headlong to Hades. Faith is belief; and how can I

Abundant bores afflict this world,… Are bores of magnitude that-come a… They’re always coming, but they ne… Like funeral pageants, as they dro… Their lurid nonsense like a muffle…

'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…

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;