#English
KING CANUTE was weary hearted… Battling, struggling, pushing, fig… And he thought upon his actions, w… ‘Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop… Chamberlains and grooms came after…
Beside the old hall-fire—upon my n… Of happy fairy days—what tales wer… I thought the world was once—all p… And my heart would beat to hear—th… And many a quiet night,—in slumber…
Dear Lucy, you know what my wish… I hate all your Frenchified fuss: Your silly entrées and made dishes Were never intended for us. No footman in lace and in ruffles
When fierce political debate Throughout the isle was storming, And Rads attacked the throne and… And Tories the reforming, To calm the furious rage of each,
I paced upon my beat With steady step and slow, All huppandownd of Ranelagh Stree… Ran’lagh St. Pimlico. While marching huppandownd
For the sole edification Of this decent congregation, Goodly people, by your grant I will sing a holy chant— I will sing a holy chant.
As on this pictured page I look, This pretty tale of line and hook As though it were a novel-book Amuses and engages: I know them both, the boy and girl…
No more, thou lithe and long-winge… No more across the sultry sands sh… Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with… Shatter against thy cage the wing… Long, sitting by their watchfires,…
Part I. At Paris, hard by the Maine barri… Whoever will choose to repair, Midst a dozen of wooden-legged war… May haply fall in with old Pierre…
I was a timid little antelope; My home was in the rocks, the lone… I saw the hunters scouring on the… I lived among the rocks, the lonel… I was a-thirsty in the summer-heat…
Where the quivering lightning flin… His arrows from out the clouds, And the howling tempest sings And whistles among the shrouds, ’Tis pleasant, ’tis pleasant to ri…
Ye Genii of the nation, Who look with veneration. And Ireland’s desolation onsaysin… Ye sons of General Jackson, Who thrample on the Saxon,
WERTHER had a love for Charlot… Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met he… She was cutting bread and butter. Charlotte was a married lady,
There lived a sage in days of yore… And he a handsome pigtail wore; But wondered much and sorrowed mor… Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case,
With ganial foire Thransfuse me loyre, Ye sacred nympths of Pindus, The whoile I sing That wondthrous thing,