Dear Mr. Pierpont Morgan, - I hasten to give you a hearty British welcome. Come to my arms; I am in the Trust line myself - That is to say, I used to be Before people started putting up announcements...
You always are making a god of your spouse; But this neither Reason nor Conscience allows; Perhaps you will say, 'tis in gratitude due, And you adore him, because he adores you....
The bard, if e'er he feel at all, Must sure be quicken'd by a call Both on his heart and head, To pay with tuneful thanks the care And kindness of a lady fair, Who deigns to deck his bed.
Tom was goin' for a poet, an' said he'd a poet be; One of these long-haired fellers a feller hates to see; One of these chaps forever fixin' things cute and clever;...
My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, When I was young, and thou no more Than plaything for a nurse, I danced and fondled on my knee, A kitten both in size and glee, I thank thee for my purse.
To you, my purse, and to none other wight, Complain I, for ye be my lady dere; I am sorry now that ye be light, For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere; Me were as lefe be laid upon a bere,...
So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well The boding dream, and did the event foretell; Judged by the past, and drew the Parallel. Thus early Solomon the truth explored,...
The amorous youth, whose tender breast Was by his darling Cat possest, Obtain'd of Venus his desire, Howe'er irregular his fire: Nature the power of love obey'd, The Cat became a blushing maid,...
My dearely loued friend how oft haue we, In winter evenings (meaning to be free,) To some well-chosen place vs'd to retire; And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire,...
And I was once like this! that glowing cheek Was mine, those pleasure-sparkling eyes, that brow Smooth as the level lake, when not a breeze Dies o'er the sleeping surface! twenty years...
Pray, take these pearls! - and my thanks for them You lavished, the home of my youth to gem! The thousands of hours of peaceful luster Your spirit has filled, are pearls that cluster...
Thou wast that all to me, love, For which my soul did pine, A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine. ...
Within this false world we may count ourselves blest, If we have but one friend who is faithful and true; And so in your friendship contented I'll rest, And believe I have found that one blessing in you.