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

A famous conqueror, in battle brav… Who robbed the cradle to supply th… His reign laid quantities of human… He fell upon the just and the unju…

What! _you_ whip rascals?-_you_, w… Bears, in its dark, dishonorable f… Enough of prison-birds’ prolific g… To serve a whole eternity of terms… _You_, for whose back the rods and…

Posterity with all its eyes Will come and view him where he li… Then, turning from the scene away With a concerted shrug, will say: 'H’m, Scarabaeus Sisyphus

Twas a sick young man with a face… And an eye that was all alone; And he shook his head in a hopeles… As he sat on a roadside stone. ‘O, ailing youth, what untoward fa…

A rat who’d gorged a box of bane And suffered an internal pain, Came from his hole to die (the lab… Required it if the rat were able) And found outside his habitat

'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…

The cur foretells the knell of par… The loafing herd winds slowly o’er… The wise man homewards plods; I o… To fiddle-faddle in a minor key.

I am for Cutting. I’m a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I displa… Peace rules the land with gentle s… But when the war-dogs bare their t…

What! photograph in colors? 'Tis… And he who dreams it is not overwi… If colors are vibration they but s… And have no being. But if Tyndall… Why, come, then-photograph my lady…

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…

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

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.

Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron de… Alas! has run away. If always we had kept him here He had not gone astray. Painter and grainer it were vain

Nightly I put up this humble peti… ‘Forgive me, O Father of Glories… My sins of commission, my sins of… My sins of the Mission Dolores.’