[“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.”

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

In 1909 toilet goods were not cons… In 1919 an assortment of perfumes… —From “How the Farmer Has Change… Maud Muller, on a summer’s day, Powdered her nose with Bon Sachet…

Propertius: Elegy VIII, Part 1 “Tune igitur demens nec te mea cur… O Cynthia, hast thou lost thy min… Have I no claim on thine affectio… Dost love the chill Illyrian wind

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…

Shall I, lying in a grot, Die because the day is hot? Or declare I can’t endure Such a torrid temperature? Be it hotter than the flames

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,

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,

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…

How narrow his vision, how cribbed… How prejudiced all of his views! How hard is the shell of his bigot… How difficult he to excuse! His face should be slapped and his…

(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,

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—

Horace: Book III, Ode 9 “Donec eram gratus tibi—” HORACE, PVT.—TH INFANTR… While I was fussing you at home You put the notion in my dome

“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...