ROBERT F. MORROW Dear man! although a stranger and… To soft affection’s humanizing glo… Although untaught how manly hearts… With more desires than the desire…

Thus the poor ass whose appetite h… Known than the thistle any sweeter… Thinks all the world eats thistles… The wit and Mentor of the country… Grins through the collar of a hors…

Once with Christ he entered Salem… Once in Moab bullied Balaam, Once by Apuleius staged He the pious much enraged. And, again, his head, as beaver,

Of Hans Pietro Shanahan (Who was a most ingenious man) The Muse of History records That he’d get drunk as twenty lord… He’d get so truly drunk that men

For Gladstone’s portrait five tho… Were paid, 't is said, to Sir Joh… I cannot help thinking that such f… Transcended reason’s uttermost bou… For it seems to me uncommonly quee…

I lay one happy night in bed And dreamed that all the dogs were… They’d all been taken out and shot Their bodies strewed each vacant l… O’er all the earth, from Berkeley…

I muse upon the distant town In many a dreamy mood. Above my head the sunbeams crown The graveyard’s giant rood. The lupin blooms among the tombs.

Charles Shortridge once to St. P… ‘Down!’ cried the saint with his f… ‘Tis writ that every hardy liar Shall dwell forever and ever in fi… 'That’s what I said the night tha…

I should like, good friends, to me… Mr. William Perry Peters, of the… Whose fate is full of meaning, if… Admonition to the haughty, consola… It happened in the hot snap which…

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…

Hasten, children, black and white Celebrate the yearly rite. Every pupil plant a tree: It will grow some day to be Big and strong enough to bear

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…

Goddess of Liberty! O thou Whose tearless eyes behold the cha… And look unmoved upon the slain, Eternal peace upon thy brow,- Before thy shrine the races press,

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,

Unbeautiful is the Piute! Howe’er bedecked with bravery, His person is unsavory Of soap he’s destitute. He multiplies upon the earth