#Americans #Suicide #XIXCentury #XXCentury
The moon’s a brass-hooped water-ke… A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and dr… And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the fl…
Old Euclid drew a circle On a sand-beach long ago. He bounded and enclosed it With angles thus and so. His set of solemn greybeards
Twelve snails went walking after n… They’d creep an inch or so, Then stop and bug their eyes And blow. Some folks . . . are . . . deadly…
And must the Senator from Illinoi… Be this squat thing, with blinking… This brazen gutter idol, reared to… Upon a leering pyramid of lies? And must the Senator from Illinoi…
’Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year.” In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed before the reader. (From the first Khandaka of the M...
To be intoned, all but the two… Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. Here lies a kitten good, who kept A kitten’s proper place. He stole no pantry eatables,
I was but a half-grown boy, You were a girl-child slight. Ah, how weary you were! You had led in the bullock-fight..… We slew the bullock at length
A chant to which it is intended a… A master deep-eyed Ere his manhood was ripe, He sang like a thrush, He could play any pipe.
I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SI… (To be read in your own variety… Legree’s big house was white and g… His cotton-fields were the best to… He had strong horses and opulent c…
The moon’s an open furnace door Where all can see the blast, We shovel in our blackest griefs, Upon that grate are cast Our aching burdens, loves and fear…
The Moon’s the North Wind’s cook… He bites it, day by day, Until there’s but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker.
True Love is founded in rocks of… In stones of Forbearance and mort… The workman lays wearily granite o… And bleeds for his castle, 'mid su… Love is not velvet, not all of it…
He paid a Swede twelve bits an ho… Just to invent a fancy style To spread the celebration paint So it would show at least a mile. Some things they did I will not t…
Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sat gossiping with Robert. (She was really a raving beauty in… With Mary Pickford curls in cloud… She was trying to think of somethi…
WRITTEN FOR LORADO… To be given in the manner of th… Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day. Watching your foes