If the wicked gods were willing (Pray it never may be true!) That a universal chilling Should ensue Of the sentiment of loving,

Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron de… Alas! has run away. If always we had kept him here He had not gone astray. Painter and grainer it were vain

It is the gallant Seventh It fyghteth faste and free! God wot the where it fyghteth I ne desyre to be. The Gonfalon it flyeth,

Professor dear, I think it queer That all these good religions ('Twixt you and me, some two or th… Are schemes for plucking pigeons) I mean 'tis strange that every cha…

Sir Impycu Lackland, from over th… Has led to the altar Miss Bloatie… The wedding took place at the Chu… The fashion, the rank and the weal… No person was absent of all whom o…

Once with Christ he entered Salem… Once in Moab bullied Balaam, Once by Apuleius staged He the pious much enraged. And, again, his head, as beaver,

Enoch Arden was an able Seaman; hear of his mishap Not in wild mendacious fable, As 't was told by t’ other chap; For I hold it is a youthful

O, heavenly powers! will wonders n… Hair upon dogs and feathers upon g… The boys in mischief and the pigs… The drinking water wet! the coal o… In meadows, rivulets surpassing fa…

O ye who push and fight To hear a wanton sing Who utter the delight That has the bogus ring, O men mature in years,

To Parmentier Parisians raise A statue fine and large: He cooked potatoes fifty ways, Nor ever led a charge. '_Palmam qui meruit’_-the rest

Death, are you well? I trust you… That’s painful or in any way annoy… No kidney trouble that may carry y… Or heart disease to keep you from… Your meals-and ours. 'T were very…

You 're grayer than one would have… The climate you have over there In the East has apparently brough… Disorders affecting the hair, Which-pardon me-seems a thought sp…

Welcome, good friend; as you have… And found the joy of crime to be a… I hope you’ll hold your present fa… And not again be open to convictio… Your sins, though scarlet once, ar…

It was a bruised and battered chap The victim of some dire mishap, Who sat upon a rock and spent His breath in this ungay lament: 'Some wars-I’ve frequent heard of…

'T was a maiden lady (the newspape… Pious and prim and a bit gone-gray… She slept like an angel, holy and… Till ten o’ the clock in the shank… (When men and other wild animals p…