#Americans #Jews #XXCentury #1920 #SomethingElseAgain
What time I read your mighty line… O Mr. Q. Horatius Flaccus, In praise of many an ancient wine— You twanged a wickid lyric to Bac… I wondered, like a Yankee hick,
Lady when I left you Ere I sailed the sea, Bitterly bereft you Told me you would be. Frequently and often
AD LEUCONOEN Horace: Book I, Ode 13. _'Tu ne quoesieris, scire nefas-'_ It is not right for you to know, s… Leuconoe,
“Oh bard,” I said, “your verse is… The shackles that encumber me, The fetters that are my obsession, Are never gyves to your expression… ”The fear of falsities in rhyme,
’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…
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… Where’s Charlie Case’s comic woe
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…
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!
How do you tackle your work each d… Are you scared of the job you find… Do you grapple the task that comes… With a confident, easy mind? Do you stand right up to the work…
[“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.”
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,
“C’est distingue,” says Madame La… ’Tis a fabric of subtle distinctio… For street wear it is superb. The chic of the Rue de la Paix— The style of Fifth Avenue—
A quatrain fills a little space, Although it’s pretty small, And oftentimes, as in this case, It has no point at all.
Horace: Epode 25 “Nox erat et cælo fulgebat Luna s… How sweet the moonlight sleeps,"… “Upon this bank!” that starry nigh… The night you vowed you’d be devot…
They brought to me his mangled cor… And I feared lest I should swing. “O tell me, tell me,—and make it b… Why hast thou done this thing? ”Had this man robbed the starving…