Brief words, when actions wait, are well: The prompter's hand is on his bell; The coming heroes, lovers, kings, Are idly lounging at the wings; Behind the curtain's mystic fold...
Above the bones St. Ursula owns, And those of the virgins she chaperons; Above the boats, And the bridge that floats, And the Rhine and the steamers' smoky throats;...
I read last night of the grand review In Washington's chiefest avenue, Two hundred thousand men in blue, I think they said was the number, Till I seemed to hear their trampling feet,...
Here's the spot. Look around you. Above on the height Lay the Hessians encamped. By that church on the right Stood the gaunt Jersey farmers. And here ran a wall, You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball....
Good! said the Padre, believe me still, 'Don Giovanni,' or what you will, The type's eternal! We knew him here As Don Diego del Sud. I fear The story's no new one! Will you hear? ...
Have you heard the story that gossips tell Of Burns of Gettysburg? No? Ah, well: Brief is the glory that hero earns, Briefer the story of poor John Burns. He was the fellow who won renown,...
'Have a care!' the bailiffs cried From their cockleshell that lay Off the frigate's yellow side, Tossing on Scarborough Bay, While the forty sail it convoyed on a bowline stretched away....
Brown foundling of the Western wood, Babe of primeval wildernesses! Long on my table thou hast stood Encounters strange and rude caresses; Perchance contented with thy lot,...
This is the reed the dead musician dropped, With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden; The prompt allegro of its music stopped, Its melodies unbidden.
O poor Romancer thou whose printed page, Filled with rude speech and ruder forms of strife, Was given to heroes in whose vulgar rage No trace appears of gentler ways and life! ...
Where the sturdy ocean breeze Drives the spray of roaring seas, That the Cliff House balconies Overlook: There, in spite of rain that balked, With his sandals duly chalked,...
Oh, say, have you seen at the Willows so green So charming and rurally true A singular bird, with a manner absurd, Which they call the Australian Emeu? Have you Ever seen this Australian Emeu? ...
Did I ever tell you, my dears, the way That the birds of Cisseter 'Cisseter!' eh? Well 'Ciren-cester' one ought to say, From 'Castra,' or 'Caster,' As your Latin master...
No, I won't, thar, now, so! And it ain't nothin', no! And thar's nary to tell that you folks yer don't know; And it's 'Belle, tell us, do!' and it's 'Belle, is it true?'...
It was noon by the sun; we had finished our game, And was passin' remarks goin' back to our claim; Jones was countin' his chips, Smith relievin' his mind Of ideas that a 'straight' should beat 'three of a kind,'...