I stood upon a hill. The setting… Was crimson with a curse and a por… And scarce his angry ray lit up th… That lay below, whose lurid gloom… Freaked with a moving mist, which,…

Alas for ambition’s possessor! Alas for the famous and proud! The Isle of Manhattan’s best dres… Is wearing a hand-me-down shroud. The world has forgotten his glory;

Once on a time, so ancient poets s… There reigned in Godknowswhere a… So great a monarch ne’er before wa… He was a hero, even to his queen, In whose respect he held so high a…

A merry Christmas? Prudent, as I… You wish me something that you nee… Merry or sad, what does it signify… To you 't is equal if I laugh, or… Your hollow greeting, like a parro…

Once-in the county of Marin, Where milk is sold to purchase gin Renowned for butter and renowned For fourteen ounces to the pound A bull stood watching every turn

Now o’ nights the ocean breeze Makes the patient flinch, For that zephyr bears a sneeze In every cubic inch. Lo! the lively population

Your various talents, Goldenson,… Respect: you are a poet and can dr… It is a pity that your gifted hand Should ever have been raised again… If you had drawn no pistol, but a…

The pig is taught by sermons and e… To think the God of Swine has sno… Judibras.

What! you were born, you animated… Within the shadow of the Capitol? 'Twas always thought (and Bancrof… His trusting readers) it was reare…

'O warrior with the burnished arms With bullion cord and tassel Pray tell me of the lurid charms Of service and the fierce alarms: The storming of the castle,

Big Smith is an Oakland School B… And he looks as good as ever he ca… And he’s such a cold and a chaste… That snowflakes all are his kin an… Wherever his eye he chances to thr…

When, long ago, the young world ci… Through wider reaches of a richer… New-eyed, the men and maids saw, m… The thoughts untold in one another… Each wish displayed, and every pas…

‘Tis a woeful yarn,’ said the sail… Who had sailed the northern-lakes 'No woefuler one has ever been tol… Exceptin’ them called ‘fakes.’ ‘Go on, thou son of the wind and f…

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

‘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…