#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
That Barret, the painter of pictu… And Fanning, the maker of music,… And Harley, the writer of stories… To hark to their talk in the trenc… Of the day when the war would be o…
I to a crumpled cabin came upon a hillside high, And with me was a withered dame As weariful as I. “It used to be our home,” she said…
Behold! the Spanish flag they’re… Before the Palace courtyard gate; To watch its progress bold and bla… Two hundred patient people wait. Though bandsmen play the anthem br…
I was Mojeska’s leading man And famous parts I used to play, But now I do the best I can To earn my bread from day to day; Here in this Burg of Breaking He…
Although you deem it far from nice… And it perchance may hurt you, Let me suggest that cowardice Can masquerade as virtue; And many a maid remains a maid
He’s the man from Eldorado, and h… In moccasins and oily buckskin shi… He’s gaunt as any Indian, and pre… He’s greasy, and he smells of swea… He sports a crop of whiskers that…
“Gather around me, children dear; The wind is high and the night is… Closer, little ones, snuggle near; Let’s seek a story of ages old; A magic tale of a bygone day,
When young I was an Atheist, Yea, pompous as a pigeon No opportunity I missed To satirize religion. I sneered at Scripture, scoffed a…
Alas! I see that thrushes three Are ravishing my old fig tree, In whose green shade I smoked my… And waited for the fruit to ripe; From green to purple softly swell
Beneath the trees I lounged at ea… And watched them speed the pace; They swerved and swung, they clutc… They leapt in roaring chase; The crowd was thrilled, a chap was…
The lady at the corner wicket Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lic… And on the envelope to stick it; A spinster lacking girlish grace, Yet sweetly sensitive, her face
No, Bill, I’m not a—spooning out… (The cove be’ind the sandbags ain’… And though I strafes ‘em good and… I guess they’re mostly decent, jus… I guess they loves their 'omes and…
A Frenchman and an Englishman Resolved to fight a duel, And hit upon a savage plan, Because their hate was cruel. They each would fire a single shot
I’ve wearied of so many things Adored in youthful days; Music no more my spirit wings, E’en when Master play. For stage and screen I have no he…
In the wilds of Madagascar, Dwelt… For her hand young men would ask h… Oh that Boola—boola maid She was… And —when the day was done At the… As this ditty she was cooing, Cam…