“Bee” Palmer has taken the raw human—all too human—stuff of the underworld, with its sighs of sadness and regret, its mad merriment, its swift blaze of passion, its turbulent dances, it...

I used to think that this environ– Ment talk was all a lot of guff; Place mattered not with Keats and… Stuff. If I have thoughts that need disc…

Horace: Epode 14 “Mollis inertia cur tantam diffude… Maecenas, you fret me, you worry m… Demanding I turn out a rhyme; Insisting on reasons, you hurry me…

Swift was sweet on Stella; Poe had his Lenore; Burns’ fancy turned to Nancy And a dozen more. Poe was quite a trifler;

("Humourists have amused themselves by translating famous sonnets into free verse. A result no less ridiculous would have been obtained if somebody had re-written a passage from 'Paradi...

I rise and applaud, in the patriot… Whenever (as often) I hear The palpitanat strains of “The St… I shout and cheer. And also, to show my unbound devot…

“Oh bard,” I said, “your verse is… The shackles that encumber me, The fetters that are my obsession, Are never gyves to your expression… ”The fear of falsities in rhyme,

Shall I, lying in a grot, Die because the day is hot? Or declare I can’t endure Such a torrid temperature? Be it hotter than the flames

(There is said to be a steady dema… in England. There are readers who… sedative for tired nerves; there a… Trollope’s quiet humour. Some peo… James’s tangled syntax the restful…

Gaze at the good-natured crowd, List to the noise and the rattle! Heavens! that woman is loud– Loud as the din of a battle. List to the noise and the rattle!

Jenny kissed me in a dream; So did Elsie, Lucy, Cora, Bessie, Gwendolyn, Eupheme, Alice, Adelaide, and Dora. Say of honour I’m devoid,

The terrible things that the Gove… Of Kansas says alarm me; And yet somehow we won the war In spite of the Regular Army. The things they say of the old N.…

Never mind the slippery wet street… The tire with a thousand claws wil… Stop as quickly as you will— Those thousand claws grip the road… Turn as sharply as you will—

Horace: Book I, Ode 19 "Mater sæva Cupidinum" Venus, the cruel mother of The Cupids (symbolising Love), Bids me to muse upon and sigh

Many a jest that refuses to die Bobs up again as the seasons appea… Deathless it hits us again in the… Changeless and dull as the calenda… Musty and mouldy and yellow and se…