Why should he not have been allowe… To thread with peaceful feet the c… Which filled that Christian stree… The Decalogue he had observed, From Faith in Jesus had not swerv…

Sleep fell upon my senses and I d… Long years had circled since my li… The world was different, and all t… Remote and strange, like noises to… And one great Voice there was; an…

“YOU know, my friends, with what… I made a second marriage in my hou… Divorced old barren Reason from m… And took the Daughter of the Vine… So sang the Lord of Poets. In a…

‘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…

O statesmen, what would you be at, With torches, flags and bands? You make me first throw up my hat, And then my hands.

You may say they won’t grow, and s… Say it again till you’re sick of t… Get up on your ear, blow your blar… And hire a hall to proclaim it; an… May stand on a stump with a lifted…

A conqueror as provident as brave, He robbed the cradle to supply the… His reign laid quantities of human… He fell upon the just and the unju…

In contact, lo! the flint and stee… By sharp and flame, the thought re… That he the metal, she the stone, Had cherished secretly alone.

Weep, weep, each loyal partisan, For Buckley, king of hearts; A most accomplished man; a man Of parts-of foreign parts. Long years he ruled with gentle sw…

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…

‘I never yet exactly could determi… Just how it is that the judicial e… Is kept so safely from predacious… ‘It is not so, my friend: though i… ’Tis kept in camphor, and you ofte…

A spitcat sate on a garden gate And a snapdog fared beneath; Careless and free was his mien, an… Held a fiddle-string in his teeth. She marked his march, she wrought…

Mrs. Mehitable Marcia Moore Was a dame of superior mind, With a gown which, modestly fittin… Was greatly puffed up behind. The bustle she wore was ingeniousl…

A Countess (so they tell the tale… Who dwelt of old in Arno’s vale, Where ladies, even of high degree, Know more of love than of A.B.C, Came once with a prodigious bribe

In that fair city, Ispahan, There dwelt a problematic man, Whose angel never was released, Who never once let out his beast, But kept, through all the seasons’…