'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…

When Admonition’s hand essays Our greed to curse, Its lifted finger oft displays Our missing purse.

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.

O, justice, you have fled, to dwel… In Mexico, unstrangled, Lest you should hang as high as-we… As Haman dangled. (I know not if his cord he twanged…

The rimer quenches his unheeded fi… The sound surceases and the sense… Then the domestic dog, to east and… Expounds the passions burning in h… The rising moon o’er that enchante…

Sharon, ambitious of immortal sham… Fame’s dead-wall daubed with his i… Served in the Senate, for our sin… Each word a folly and each vote a… Law for our governance well skille…

So, Beecher’s dead. His was a gre… Great as a giant organ is, whose r… Hold in them all the souls of all… That man has ever taught and never… When on this mighty instrument He…

Have but one God: thy knees were… If bent in prayer to three or four… Adore no images save those The coinage of thy country shows. Take not the Name in vain. Direct

A is defrauded of his land by B, Who’s driven from the premises by… D buys the place with coin of plun… 'That A’s an Anarchist!' says F…

'Ours is a Christian Army’; so he… A regiment of bangomen who led. ‘And ours a Christian Navy,’ adde… Who sailed a thunder-junk upon the… Better they know than men unwarlik…

‘To the will of the people we loya… That’s the minority shibboleth now… O noble antagonists, answer me fla… What would you do if you didn’t do…

Beauty (they called her) wasn’t a… Of many things in the world afraid… She wasn’t a maid who turned and f… At sight of a mouse, alive or dead… She wasn’t a maid a man could 'sho…

‘Let John P. Irish rise!’ the ed… As when Creation into being spran… Nature, not clearly understanding,… To make a bird that on the air cou… But naught could baffle the creati…

‘Lothario is very low,’ So all the doctors tell. Nay, nay, not _so_-he will be, tho… If ever he get well.

Daughter of God! Audacity divine Of clowns the terror and of brains… Not thou the inspirer of the rushi… Not thine of idiots the vocal droo… Thy bastard sister of the brow of…