I try to touch the public taste, For thus I earn my daily bread. I try to write what folks will pas… In scrap books after I am dead. By Public Craving I am led.

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

I thought that I was wholly free, That I had Love upon the shelf; “Hereafter,” I declared in glee, “I’ll have my evenings to myself.” How can such mortal beauty live?

Lady in the blue kimono, you that… One may see you gazing, gazing gaz… Idly looking out your window from… Are you convalescent, lady? Are y… Ever gazing, as you hang there on…

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…

[And here is a suggestion: Did you ever try dictating your stories or articles to the dictaphone for the first draft? I would be glad to have you come down and make the experiment.—From...

There was a man in our town, and h… was wondrous rich; He gave away his millions to the c… and sich; And people cried: “The hypocrite!…

(The man who wants the perfect wif… ‘stock-size.’ She comes cheaper.-_… Ah, Myrtilla, woe and dear me! Lackadaydee and alas! What is this, I greatly fear me,

[“There are so many things I want… Said Abelard to Heloïse: “Your tresses blowing in the breez… Enchant my soul; your cheek allure… I never knew such lips as yours.”

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

“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...

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

Horace: Book III, Ode 13 "O fons Bandisiæ, splendidior vit… WORTHY of flowers and syrups sw… O fountain of Bandusian onyx, To-morrow shall a goatling’s bleat

(Who hitches laundering articles t… string and pastes them on the pane… Lady, thou that livest Just across the way, If a hang thou givest

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