Nothing so true as what you once l… “To growl at something is the lot… Contentment is a gem on earth unkn… And Perfect Happiness the wizard’… Give me,” you cried, “to see my du…

In olden time—in great Eliza’s ag… When rare Ben Jonson ruled the hu… No play without its Prologue migh… To earn applause or ward the criti… And surely now old customs should…

Two neighbours, fighting for a yar… Two witnesses, who _lie_ on either… Two lawyers, issuing many writs an… Two clerks, in a dark passage coun… Two counsel, calling one another n…

The times still “grow to something… We rap and turn the tables; We fire our guns at awful range; We lay Atlantic cables; We bore the hills, we bridge the s…

You say ‘tis plain that poets feig… And from the truth depart; They write with ease what fibs the… With artifice, not art; Dearer to you the simply true—

Three attorneys came sailing down… Down Chancery Lane e’er the court… They thought of the leaders they o… But the Junior Bar, oh, they thou… For serjeants get work and Q.C.'s…

Give that brief to me, Without so much bother; Never let it be Given to another. Why this coy resistance?

And Willie, my eldest born, is go… Ruddy and white, and strong on his… He was only fourscore years, quite… I ought to have gone before, but m… So Harry’s wife has written; she…

Warriors! who from the cannon’s mo… Your fame to raise, Upon its blaze, Alas! ye do but light your funeral… Tempting Fate’s stroke;

Thou little village curate, Come quick, and do not wait; We’ll sit and talk together, So sweetly _tete-a-tete_. Oh do not fear the railway

Take, oh take those boots away, That so nearly are outworn; And those shoes remove, I pray— Pumps that but induce the corn! But my slippers bring again,

The moon in the valley of Ajalon Stood still at the word of the pro… But since certain “Essays” were w… We don’t think so very much of it. Now, a prophet is raised up among…

Sleep, little baby, sleep, love, s… Evening is coming, and night is ni… Under the lattice the little birds… All will be sleeping by and by. Sleep, little baby, sleep.

Oh, saw ye my own true love, I pr… My own true love so sweete? For the flowers have lightly toss’… The prynte of her faery feete. Now, how can we telle if she passe…