#AmericanWriters
Curly locks, Curly Locks, wilt th… Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor ye… But stand in the kitchen and cook… And ride every night in an automob… Curly Locks, Curly Locks, come t…
Sing, O Muse, in treble clef, A little song of the A.E.F., And pardon me, please, if I give… To something akin to sentiment. But we have our moments Over Here
Motto heartening, inspiring, Framed above my pretty *desk, Never Shelley, Keats, or Byring* Penned a phrase so picturesque! But in me no inspiration
A quatrain fills a little space, Although it’s pretty small, And oftentimes, as in this case, It has no point at all.
The rich man has his motor-car, His country and his town estate. He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at Fate. He frivols through the livelong da…
I do not hold with him who thinks The world is jonahed by a jinx; That everything is sad and sour, And life a withered hothouse flowe… I hate the Polyanna pest
There was a man in our town who ha… He gave away his millions to the c… And people cried: “The hypocrite!… The ones who really need him are t… When Andrew Croesus built a home…
("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...
(Why don’t you ever write any chil… —A MOTHER.) My right-hand neighbour hath a chi… A pretty child of five or six, Not more than other children wild,
Sporting with Amaryllis in the sh… (I credit Milton in parenthesis), Among the speculations that she ma… Was this: “When”—these her very words—"when…
William, it was, I think, three y… As I recall, one cool October mor… (You have The Tribune files; I t… I gave you warning). I said, in well-selected words and…
AFTER HENLEY Where are the wheezes they essayed And where the smiles they made to… Where’s Caron’s seltzer siphon la… A squirt from which laid Herbert…
In 1909 toilet goods were not cons… In 1919 an assortment of perfumes… —From “How the Farmer Has Change… Maud Muller, on a summer’s day, Powdered her nose with Bon Sachet…
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…
Chloris lay off the flapper stuff; What’s fit for Pholoë, a fluff, Is not for Ibycus’s wife— A woman at your time of life! Ignore, old dame, such pleasures a…