#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Of life’s elixir I had writ, when… (Pray Heaven it spared him who th… Settled upon my senses with so dee… A stupefaction that men thought me… The centuries stole by with noisel…
We heard a song-bird trilling 'T was but a night ago. Such rapture he was rilling As only we could know. This morning he is flinging
When a fair bridge is builded o’er… Between two cities, some ambitious… Hot for distinction, pleads for ea… To push his clumsy feet upon the s… That men in after years may single…
Alas, alas, for the tourist’s guid… He turned from the beaten trail as… Wandered bewildered, lay down and… O grim is the Irony of Fate: It switches the man of low estate
Saint Peter at the gate of Heaven… The tools and terrors of his awful… The key, the frown as pitiless as… That slays intending trespassers a… And, at his side in easy reach, th…
Once I seen a human ruin In a elevator-well. And his members was bestrewin’ All the place where he had fell. And I says, apostrophisin’
So, Estee, you are still alive! I… That you had died and were a bless… I know at least your coffin once w… With Railroad money; and ‘twas sa… Historians that Stanford made a b…
Upon this quarter-eagle’s leveled… The Lord’s Prayer, legibly inscri… 'Our Father which’-the pronoun th… And shows the scribe to have addre… 'Which art in Heaven’-an error th…
I drew aside the Future’s veil And saw upon his bier The poet Whitman. Loud the wail And damp the falling tear. 'He’s dead-he is no more!' one cri…
When Man and Woman had been made, All but the disposition, The Devil to the workshop strayed… And somehow gained admission. The Master rested from his work,
His caw is a cackle, his eye is di… And he mopes all day on the lowest… Not a word says he, but he snaps h… And twitches his palsied head, as… The ultimate plume of his pride an…
Way down in the Boom Belt lived… A person named Petrie, he lived t… But Mr. Roselle he resided away Sing tooral iooral iooral iay. Once Mrs. Roselle in her room was…
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…
Good Parson Dickson preached, I’… A sermon-ah, ‘twas very old And very, very, bald! ’Twas all about-I know not what It was about, nor what ‘twas not.
'O venerable patriot, I pray Stand not here coatless; at the br… We’ll know the grand result-and ev… The eastern sky is faintly touched… 'It ill befits thine age’s hoary c…