One evening while reclining In my easy-chair, repining O'er the lack of true religion, and the dearth of common sense, A solemn visaged lady, Who was surely on the shady...
The editor sat with his head in his hands And his elbows at rest on his knees; He was tired of the ever-increasing demands On his time, and he panted for ease. The clamor for copy was scorned with a sneer,...