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

AD LEUCONOEN Horace: Book I, Ode 13. _'Tu ne quoesieris, scire nefas-'_ It is not right for you to know, s… Leuconoe,

LINES PROVOKED BY HE… No carmine radical in Art, I worship at the shrine of Form; Yet open are my mind and heart To each departure from the norm.

Horace: Book I, Ode 11 “Tu ne quaesieris—scire nefas —quem mihi; quem tibi—” AD LEUCONOEN Nay querry not, Leuconoë, the fin…

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…

Yesterday afternoon, while I was… A gust of wind blew my hat off. I swore, petulantly, but somewhat… A young woman had been near, walki… She must have heard me, I thought…

Writers of baseball, attention! When you’re again on the job– When, in your rage for invention, You with the language play hob– Most of your dope we will pardon,

Labor is a thing I do not like; Workin’s makes me want to go on st… Sittin’ in an office on a sunny af… Thinkin o’ nothin’ but a ragtime t… ‘Cause I got the blues, I said I…

For something like eleven summers I’ve written things that aimed to… Our careless mealy-mouthéd mummers To be more sedulous of speech. So sloppy of articulation

Horace: Book I, Ode 23 “Vitas hinnuleo me similis, ChloÃ… Why shun me, my Chloë? Nor pisto… Is mine with intention to kill. And yet like a llama you run to yo…

“Gentle Jane was as good as gold,… To borrow a line from Mr. Gilbert… She hated War with a hate untold, She was a pacifistic filbert. If you said “Perhaps”—she’d leave…

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…

How narrow his vision, how cribbed… How prejudiced all of his views! How hard is the shell of his bigot… How difficult he to excuse! His face should be slapped and his…

Horace: Book III, Ode 30 “Exegi monumentum aere perennius—” The monument that I have built is… And loftier than the Pyramids whi… No blizzard can destroy it, nor fu…

Twelve fleeting years ago my Myrt… (Ehu fugaces! maybe more) I wrote of the directoire skirt You wore. Ten years ago, Myrtilla mine,