Works

Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me
An' jes' gits me out o' hitch,
Twell I want to tek my coat off,
So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch,
Hit's to see some ign'ant white man
'Mittin' dat owdacious sin--...

So yer trav'lin' for yer pleasure while yer writin' for the press?
An' yer huntin' arter 'copy'? well, I've heer'd o' that. I guess
You are gorn ter write a story that is gorn ter be yer best,...

I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,
An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;
But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,...

(See Note 68)

A man in coat of ice arrayed
Stood up once by the Arctic Ocean;
The whole earth shook with proud emotion
And honor to the giant paid.

A king came, to him climbing up,...

I cannot tell you how I love
The canvases of Mr. Dove,
Which Saturday I went to see
In Mr. Thurber's gallery.

At first you fancy they are built
As patterns for a crazy quilt,...

Let others to the printing-press run fast;
Since after death comes glory, I'll not haste.

Snow-bound in woodland, a mournful word,
Dropt now and then from the bill of a bird,
Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus I heard,
Wearily waiting:-

"I planned her a nest in a leafless tree,...

Wendell Phillips, Orator; Charles Godfrey Leland, Poet


"The Dutch have taken Holland," - so the schoolboys used to say;
The Dutch have taken Harvard, - no doubt of that to-day!...

The moralist, my dear niece, has said that -

"The man of sense will read a work of note
In the like humour as the author wrote."
...

What of the faith and fire within us
Men who march away
Ere the barn-cocks say
Night is growing gray,
To hazards whence no tears can win us;
What of the faith and fire within us
Men who march away?...

Come close to me, dear Annie, while I bind a lover's knot.
A tale of burning love between a kettle and a pot.
The pot was stalwart iron and the kettle trusty tin,...

Love and the Graces evermore do wait
Upon the man that is a potentate.

Do you remember
Honey-melon moon
Dripping thick sweet light
Where Canal Street saunters off by herself among quiet trees?
And the faint decayed patchouli -
Fragrance of New Orleans...

'Nec propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.'

Though the pitcher that goes to the sparkling rill
Too oft gets broken at last,
There are scores of others its place to fill...

I hate this grinding poverty,
To toil, and pinch, and borrow,
And be for ever haunted by
The spectre of to-morrow.
It breaks the strong heart of a man,
It crushes out his spirit,...

Rank Poverty! dost thou my joys assail,
And with thy threat'nings fright me from my rest?
I once had thoughts, that with a Bloomfield's tale,
And leisure hours, I surely should be blest;...

Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.

Give Want her welcome if she comes; we find
Riches to be but burdens to the mind.

To mortal men great loads allotted be,
But of all packs, no pack like poverty.

His tongue was framed to music,
And his hand was armed with skill;
His face was the mould of beauty,
And his heart the throne of will.