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…

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

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…

“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…

“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 was talking with a newspaper man the other day who seemed to think that the fact that Mrs. Carlyle threw a teacup at Mr. Carlyle should be given to the public merely as a fact. But a...

Gaze at the good-natured crowd, List to the noise and the rattle! Heavens! that woman is loud– Loud as the din of a battle. List to the noise and the rattle!

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…

Horace: Epode 14 “Mollis inertia cur tantam diffude… Maecenas, you fret me, you worry m… Demanding I turn out a rhyme; Insisting on reasons, you hurry me…

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

A quatrain fills a little space, Although it’s pretty small, And oftentimes, as in this case, It has no point at all.

Oh, some may sing of the surging s… of the raging main; Or tell of the taffrail blown away… hurricane. With an oh, of the feel of the sal…

A soft susurrus in the night, A song whose singer is unseen– ’Twere poetry itself to write ‘A soft susurrus in the night!’ I know, as those mosquitos bite,

Before I was a travelled bird, I scoffed, in my provincial way, At other lands; I deemed absurd All nations but these U.S.A. And—although Middle-Western born—