FITCH: 'All vices you’ve exhausted, frien… So all the papers say.' PICKERING: ‘Ah, what vile calumnies are penne…

God dreamed-the suns sprang flamin… And sailing worlds with many a ven… He woke-His smile alone illumined…

Ben Bulger was a silver man, Though not a mine had he: He thought it were a noble plan To make the coinage free. 'There hain’t for years been sech…

San Quentin was brilliant. Within… Of the noble pile with the frownin… (God knows they’ve enough to make… With a Governor trying to break t… Was a blaze of light. ‘Twas the n…

Swains and maidens, young and old, You to me this tale have told. Where the squalid town of Dae Irks the comfortable sea, Spreading webs to gather fish,

I turned my eyes upon the Future’… And saw its pictured prophecies un… I saw that magical life-laden trai… Flash its long glories o’er Nebra… I saw it smoothly up the mountain…

I step from the door with a shiver (This fog is uncommonly cold) And ask myself: What did I give h… The maiden a trifle gone-old, With the head of gray hair that wa…

‘Tis Master Fitch, the editor; He takes an holiday. Now wherefore, venerable sir, So resolutely gay? He lifts his head, he laughs aloud…

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…

Two villains of the highest rank Set out one night to rob a bank. They found the building, looked it… Each window noted, tried each door… Scanned carefully the lidded hole

I lay in silence, dead. A woman c… And laid a rose upon my breast, an… ‘May God be merciful.’ She spoke… And added, ‘It is strange to thin… ’He loved me well enough, but ‘t w…

Och! Father McGlynn, Ye appear to be in Fer a bit of a bout wid the Pope; An’ there’s divil a doubt But he’s knockin’ ye out

Did I believe the angels soon wou… You, my beloved, to the other shor… And I should never see you any mo… I love you so I know that I shoul… Into dejection utterly, and all

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

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