Here richly, with ridiculous displ… The Politician’s corpse was laid… While all of his acquaintance snee… I wept: for I had longed to see h… Another on the Same
It was my shame, and now it is my… That I have loved you rather more…
November is that historied Empero… Conquered in age, but foot to foot… Who from his refuge high has heard… Of squadrons in pursuit, and now,… Stirrups the storm and calls the w…
How did the party go in Portman S… I cannot tell you; Juliet was not… And how did Lady Gaster’s party g… Juliet was next me and I do not k…
My reading is extremely deep and w… And as our modern education goes’… Unique I think, and skilfully app… To Art and Industry and Autres C… Through many years of scholarly re…
The parents of the learned child (His father and his mother) Were utterly aghast to note The facts he would at random quote On creatures curious, rare, and wi…
The Chief Defect of Henry King Was chewing little bits of String… At last he swallowed some which ti… Itself in ugly Knots inside. Physicians of the Utmost Fame
It happened to Lord Lundy then, As happens to so many men: Towards the age of twenty-six, They shoved him into politics; In which profession he commanded
When you are mixed with many I de… A single light, and judge the rest… But when you are alone with me, wh… I quite forget all women and all m…
The Bison is vain, and (I write i… The Door-mat you see on his head Is not, as some learned professors… The opulent growth of a genius’ br… But is sewn on with needle and thr…
Most Holy Night, that still dost… The keys of all the doors of sleep… To me when my tired eyelids close Give thou repose. And let the far lament of them
Some years ago you heard me sing My doubts on Alexander Byng. His sister Sarah now inspires My jaded Muse, my failing fires. Of Sarah Byng the tale is told
The Scorpion is as black as soot, He dearly loves to bite; He is a most unpleasant brute To find in bed at night.
Is there any reward? I’m beginning to doubt it. I am broken and bored, Is there any reward Reassure me, Good Lord,
I will not try the reach again, I will not set my sail alone, To moor a boat bereft of men At Yarnton’s tiny docks of stone. But I will sit beside the fire,
