Once Moses (in Scripture the stor… Entreated the favor God’s face to… Compassion divine the petition den… Lest vision be blasted and body be… Yet this much, the Record informs…

A reporter he was, and he wrote, w… “The grave was covered as thick as… With floral tributes”—which readin… The editor man he said, he did so: “For 'floral tributes’ he’s got fo…

False to his art and to the high c… God laid upon him, Markham’s rebe… Beats all in vain the harp he touc… It yields a jingle and it yields n… No more the strings beneath his fi…

Death, are you well? I trust you… That’s painful or in any way annoy… No kidney trouble that may carry y… Or heart disease to keep you from… Your meals-and ours. 'T were very…

Dies irae! dies ilia! Solvet saeclum in favilla Teste David cum Sibylla. Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus.

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

Nay, Peter Robertson, 'tis not fo… To blubber o’er Max Taubles for h… By Heaven! my hearty, if you only… How better is a grave-worm in the… Than brains like yours-how far mor…

When Liberverm resigned the chair Of This or That in college, where For two decades he’d gorged his br… With more than it could well conta… In order to relieve the stress

High Lord of Liars, Pickering, t… Let meaner mortals bend the subjec… Thine is mendacity’s imperial crow… Alike by genius, action and renown… No man, since words could set a ch…

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…

As the poor ass that from his padd… Might sound abroad his field-compa… Recounting volubly their well-bred… Their port impressive and their we… Mistaking for the world’s assent t…

Villain, when the word is spoken, And your chains at last are broken When the gibbet’s chilling shade Ceases darkly to enfold you, And the angel who enrolled you

You promised to paint me a picture… Dear Mat, And I was to pay you in rhyme. Although I am loth to inflict you… Most easy of consciences, I’m

Like a worn mother he attempts in… To still the unruly Crier of his… The more he rocks the cradle of hi… The more uproarious grows the brat…

'I saw your charms in another’s ar… Said a Grecian swain with his blo… 'And he kissed you fair as he held… A willing bird in a serpent’s coil… The maid looked up from the cinctu…