Beauty in trouble flees to the goo… On whom she can rely To pay her cab—fare, run a steamin… Poultice her bruised eye; Will not at first, whether for sha…

‘Give us Rain, Rain,’ said the be… ‘Not so much Sun, Not so much Sun.’ But the Sun smiles bravely and en… And no rain falls and no waters ru…

Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts

LOOK at my knees, That island rising from the steamy… The candle’s a tall lightship; my… Are boats and barges anchored to t… With mighty cliffs all round;…

She let her golden ball fall down… And begged a cold frog to retrieve… For which she kissed his ugly, gap… Indeed, he could scarce believe it… And seeing him transformed to his…

Most venerable and learned sir, Tall and true Philosopher, These rings of smoke you blow all… With such deep thought, what sense… Small friend, with prayer and medi…

At Viscount Nelson’s lavish funer… While the mob milled and yelled ab… A General chatted with an Admiral… “One of your colleagues, Sir, rem… That Nelson’s exit, though to be…

When outside the icy rain Comes leaping helter—skelter, Shall I tie my restive brain Snugly under shelter? Shall I make a gentle song

Have you spent the money I gave y… Ay, father I have. A fourpence on cakes, two pennies… To a beggar I gave. The lake of yellow brimstone boil…

Are you shaken, are you stirred By a whisper of love, Spellbound to a word Does Time cease to move, Till her calm grey eye

If strange things happen where she… So that men say that graves open And the dead walk, or that futurit… Becomes a womb and the unborn are… Such portents are not to be wonder…

As Jane walked out below the hill… She saw an old man standing still, His eyes in tranced sorrow bound On the broad stretch of barren gro… His limbs were knarled like aged t…

Call it a good marriage — For no one ever questioned Her warmth, his masculinity, Their interlocking views; Except one stray graphologist

I never dreamed we’d meet that day In our old haunts down Fricourt w… Plotting such marvellous journeys… For jolly old “Après—la—guerre.” Well, when it’s over, first we’ll…

Mother: What’s in that cupboard,… Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear… Mother: The cupboard of red mahog… With handles shining clear. Mary: That cupboard, dearest moth…