When Dr. Bill Bartlett stepped o… Of Mammon’s distracting and weari… To stand and deliver a lecture on… Conditions of Intellectual Life,’ I cursed the offender who gave him…

I know not, Mr. Catton, who you a… Nor very clearly why; but you go f… To show that you are many things b… A Chilean Consul with a tempting… But what they are I hardly could…

“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…

As oft it happens in the youth of… That mists obscure the sun’s imper… Who, as he’s mounting to the dome’… Smites and dispels them with a ste… So you the vapors that begirt your…

The rain is fierce, it flogs the e… And man’s in danger. O that my mother at my birth Had borne a stranger! The flooded ground is all around.

The flabby wine-skin of his brain Yields to some pathologic strain, And voids from its unstored abysm The driblet of an aphorism.

Mahomet Stanford, with covetous s… Gazed on a vision surpassingly fai… Far on the desert’s remote extreme A mountain of gold with a mellow g… Reared its high pinnacles into the…

'The Social World’! O what a wor… Where full-grown men cut capers in… Cotillion, waltz, or what you will… And spin and hop and sprawl about… I wonder if our future Grant or S…

The lily cranks, the lily cranks, The loppy, loony lasses! They multiply in rising ranks To execute their solemn pranks, They moon along in masses.

A famous journalist, who long Had told the great unheaded throng Whate’er they thought, by day or n… Was true as Holy Writ, and right, Was caught in-well, on second thou…

Judge Armstrong, when the poor ha… To be released from vows that they… In haste, and leisurely repented,… As stern as Rhadamanthus (Minos t… And AEeacus) have drawn your fier…

He held a book in his knotty paws, And its title grand read he: 'The Chronicles of the Kings’ it… By the History Companee. 'I’m a monarch,' he said

Slain as they lay by the secret, s… Pitiless hand of an unseen foe, Two score thousand old soldiers ha… The river to join the loved and lo… In the space of a year their spiri…

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

Great poets fire the world with fa… That make a crackling racket, But I’m content with but a whispe… To warm some single jacket.