John S. Hittell, whose sovereign… The quill his tributary body yield… The author of an opera-that is, All but the music and libretto’s h… A work renowned, whose formidable…

Running for Senator with clumsy p… He stooped so low, to win at least… That Fortune, tempted by a mark s… Sprang in an kicked him to the win…

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…

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

What! ‘Out of danger?’ Can the sl… Or canting Pharisee no more defam… Will Treachery caress my hand no… Nor Hatred lie alurk about my doo… Ingratitude, with benefits dismiss…

I’m a gorgeous golden hero And my trade is taking life. Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero Of my sibillating fife And the rub-a-dub-a-dum

Oft from a trading-boat I purchas… And shells and corals, brought for… From the fair tropics-paid a Chri… And was content in my fool’s parad… Where never had been heard the wor…

‘What is that, mother?’ ‘The funny man, child. His hands are black, but his heart… ‘May I touch him, mother?’ ‘T were foolishly done:

'Twas an Injin chieftain, in feat… Who stood on the ocean’s rim; There were numberless leagues of e… But there wasn’t enough for him. So he knuckled a thumb in his pain…

It was a bruised and battered chap The victim of some dire mishap, Who sat upon a rock and spent His breath in this ungay lament: 'Some wars-I’ve frequent heard of…

The soft asphaltum in the sun; Betrays a tendency to run; Whereas the dog that takes his way Across its course concludes to sta…

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 bull imprisoned in a stall Broke boldly the confining wall, And found himself, when out of bou… Within a washerwoman’s grounds. Where, hanging on a line to dry,

John Jackson, once a soldier bold… Hath still a martial feeling; So, when he sees a foe, behold! He charges him-with stealing. He cares not how much ground to-da…

'Why, Goldenson, you’re looking v… Said Death as, strolling through… He entered that serene assassin’s… And hung his hat and coat upon a n… ‘I think that life in this seclude…