Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; While, fluent as the sky-lark sings When first the morn allures it's wings, The epicure his theme pursues: And tell me if, among the choir...
Dear architect of fine chateaux in air, Worthier to stand for ever, if they could, Than any built of stone or yet of wood, For back of royal elephant to bear!
The bookman he's a humming-bird - His feasts are honey-fine, - (With hi! hilloo! And clover-dew And roses lush and rare!) Hiss roses are the phrase and word Of olden tomes divine;...
He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll'd, And he who struck the softer lyre of Love, By Death's unequal[1] hand alike controul'd, Fit comrades in Elysian regions move!
Death held our Lord in prison For sin that did undo us; But he hath up arisen And brought our life back to us. Therefore must we gladsome be, Praise our God, and thankful be,...
Which it is not my style To produce needless pain By statements that rile Or that go 'gin the grain, But here's Captain Jack still a-livin', and Nye has no skelp on his brain! ...
On twin tails of a comet penguin men polka dot the night - - - waddle white suits past pale the white Empress Night, flickering graveyard stars - -a pitcher of inky black...