Up goes the price of our bread— Up goes the cost of our caking! People must ever be fed; Bakers must ever be baking. So, though our nerves may be quaki…

“Nam nihil est, quod non mortalibu… —PETRONIUS Nothing there is that mortal man m… What in our wealth we treasured, i… The gold upon a sinking ship has o…

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.

These are the saddest of possible… Tinker to Evers to Chance. Trio of Bear-cubs, fleeter than b… Tinker to Evers to Chance. Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon b…

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

The songs of Sherwood Forest Are lilac-sweet and clear; The virile rhymes of merrier times Sound fair upon mine ear. Sweet is their sylvan cadence

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…

“This war is a terrible thing,” he… “With its countless numbers of nee… A futile warfare it seems to me, Fought for no principle I can see… Alas, that thousands of hearts sho…

(Parody is a genre frowned upon by… of literature... And yet it is a g… ‘The Point of View’ in May _Scri… A sweet disorder in the verse That never looks behind

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…

Motto heartening, inspiring, Framed above my pretty *desk, Never Shelley, Keats, or Byring* Penned a phrase so picturesque! But in me no inspiration

We were very tired, we were very m… We had gone back and forth all nig… It was bare and bright, and smelle… But we looked into a fire, we lean… We lay on a hilltop underneath the…

When you came you were like red wi… And the taste of you burnt my mout… Now you are like morning bread— Smooth and pleasant, I hardly taste you at all, for I…

Lady when I left you Ere I sailed the sea, Bitterly bereft you Told me you would be. Frequently and often

(With the usual.) In winter I get up at night, And dress by an electric light. In summer, autumn, ay, and spring, I have to do the self-same thing.