I saw him lying cold and dead Who yesterday was whole. “Why,” I inquired, “hath he expir… And why hath fled his soul? ”but yesterday," his comrade said,

All stark and cold the merchant la… All cold and stark lay he. And who hath killed the fair merch… Now tell the truth to me. Oh, I have killed this fair merch…

It was a summer evening; Old Kaspar was at home, Sitting before his cottage door— Like in the Southey pome— And near him, with a magazine,

Tell me not, in doctored numbers, Life is but a name for work! For the labour that encumbers Me I wish that I could shirk. Life is phony! Life is rotten!

(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.

“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...

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…

Well William, since I wrote you l… As I recall, one cool October mor… (I have The Tribune files. They… I gave you warning). Since when I penned that conseque…

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…

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.

Horace: Book I, Ode 2 “Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, qu… AD LEUCONOEN Look not, Leuconoë, into the fut… Seek not to find what the answer m…

If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be? BY OUR OWN JEROME D. K… I don’t care if a girl is fair If she doesn’t seem beautiful to m…

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

’Twas on the shores that round our… From Deal to Newport lie That I roused from sleep in a hud… An elderly wealthy guy. His hair was graying, his hair was…

[“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.”