Poetry quotes

I’m safe? Is that what the physician said?

What! “Out of danger?” Then, by Heaven, I’m dead!

’Twas a Venerable Person, whom I met one Sunday morning, All appareled as a prophet of a melancholy sect; And in a Jeremaid of objurgatory warning He lifted up his jodel to the following effect:

“Allah,” he cried, “thou seest what I got: Thy servants bar me from the sacred spot.”

“Be comforted,” the Holy One replied; “It is the only place where I am not.”

Brand Whitlock sped from Hell through space, To be remanded never— For having such a saintly face, Set free forever,

Lord! ’twas an eerie thing to drift apace On that pellucid sea, beneath black skies And o’er the heads of an undrowning race; And when I woke I said—to her surprise Who came with chocolate, for me to drink it:

“The atmosphere is deeper than you think it.”

From the regions of the Night, Coming with recovered sight— From the spell of darkness free, What will Danenhower see?

’Twere passing easy to allay his pang Had he the genius—that’s to say, the insight Commercial. If he would but sing in slang He’d earn the wherewithal to make his skin tight.

Genius (let’s now define the word afresh) Is the capacity to take on flesh.

Spirit of Letters, hail! Thy reign is Now; Thy ministers are gentlemen that waddle— Children of light and leading who avow They swap, for tallow, speech that’s not a model— For laminated kidney-suet trade Unsavory words. You must be stout, George Ade.

“And ours a Christian navy,” added he Who sailed a thunder-junk upon the sea. Better they know than men unwarlike do What is an army, and a navy too. Pray God there may be sent them by-and-by The knowledge what a Christian is, and why.

For somewhat lamely the conception runs Of a brass-buttoned Jesus firing guns.

When a fair bridge is builded o’er the gulf Between two cities, some ambitious fool, Hot for distinction, pleads for earliest leave To push his clumsy feet upon the span, That men in after years may single him, Saying:

Against abstractions evermore you charge: You hack no helmet and you need no targe. That wickedness is wrong and sin a vice, That wrong’s not right, nor foulness ever nice, Fearless affirm. All consequences dare:

Smite the offense and the offender spare.

When Ananias and Sapphira lied Falsehood, had you been there, had surely died. When money-changers in the Temple sat, At money-changing you’d have whirled the “cat” (That John-the-Baptist of the modern pen) And all the brokers would have cried amen!

But since, while some are wicked some are good, (As trees may differ though they all are wood) Names, here and there, to show whose head is hit, The bad would sentence and the good acquit. In sparing everybody none you spare:

Rebukes most personal are least unfair.

To fire at random if you still prefer, And swear at Dog but never kick a cur, Permit me yet one ultimate appeal To something that you understand and feel:

And man’s an ape and the gods are mad!— There’s nothing sure, not even our taxes. No mortal man can Truth restore, Or say where she is to be sought for. I know what uniform I wore—

O, that I knew which side I fought for!

Slain as they lay by the secret, slow, Pitiless hand of an unseen foe, Two score thousand old soldiers have crossed The river to join the loved and lost.

It was hard by the dim lake of Auber— ” ” down ” ” dark tarn ” ” In the misty mid region of Weir— ” ” ghoul-haunted woodland ” ”

Little’s the good to sit and grieve Because the serpent tempted Eve.

Better to wipe your eyes and take A club and go out and kill a snake.

But if you prefer, as I suspect, To philosophize, why, then, reflect:

If the cunning rascal upon the limb Hadn’t tempted her she’d have tempted him.

Alas, alas, for the tourist’s guide!— He turned from the beaten trail aside, Wandered bewildered, lay down and died.

Assist me, gods, to balk the decree!

Nothing I’ll do and nothing I’ll be, In order that nothing be done to me.

Republicans think Jonas Bimm A Democrat gone mad, And Democrats consider him Republican and bad.

A look revealed them as a look discerned. But sating Time with clouds o’ercast their eyes; Desire was hidden, and the lips framed lies. A goddess then, emerging from the dust,

Fair Virtue rose, the daughter of Distrust.

Loquitur. I’ve slept right through The night—a rather clever thing to do. How soundly women sleep looks at his wife. They’re all alike. The sweetest thing in life Is woman when she lies with folded tongue, Its toil completed and its day-song sung. Thump!

They ask for greater freedom. No, indeed— What happened to my ancestor who freed The serfs? His grateful subjects duly flung Something that spoke to him without a tongue. So he was sacrificed for Freedom’s sake, And gathered to his fathers with a rake.

I from Autocracy my people free? Ah, would to Heaven they could deliver me!

Once on a time, so ancient poets sing, There reigned in Godknowswhere a certain king. So great a monarch ne’er before was seen:

Alone that spiritual tetter, The zeal to make creation better, Glows still immedicably warmer.

Who knows of a reformed reformer?

Hail, peerless Pun! thou last and best, Most rare and excellent bequest Of dying idiot to the wit He died of, rat-like, in a pit!

Learn once for all, if learn you can, This truth, significant to man:

A pious person is by odds The one most hateful to the gods.

”

“He’s dead—he is no more!” one cried, With sobs of sorrow crammed; “No more? He’s this much more,” replied Another: “he is damned!”

Mrs. Mehitable Marcia Moore

Was a dame of superior mind, With a gown which, modestly fitting before, Was greatly puffed up behind.

His dog, which hadn’t breakfasted, Dissented from his view, And wished that he could swell, instead, The volume of cold stew.

“Nobody’d put me up,” said Ben,

“With patriot galoots Which benefits their feller men By playin’ warious roots;

The Parson, loth alike to free or kill, Forsakes the souls already on the grill, And, God’s prerogative of mercy shamming, Spares living sinners for a harder damning.

Observe, dear Lord, what lively pranks

Are played by sentimental cranks! First this one mounts his hinder hoofs And brays the chimneys off the roofs; Then that one, with exalted voice, Expounds the thesis of his choice, Our understandings to bombard, Till all the window panes are starred!

A fourth in oral thunder vents His pinching penury of sense Till dogs with sympathetic howls, And lowing cows, and cackling fowls, Hens, geese, and all domestic birds, Attest the terror of his words.

Cranks thus their intellects deflate

Of theories about the State. This one avers ’tis built on Truth, And that on Temperance. This youth Declares that Science bears the pile; That graybeard, with a holy smile, Says Faith is the supporting stone;

A fourth in oral thunder vents His pinching penury of sense Till dogs with sympathetic howls, And lowing cows, and cackling fowls, Hens, geese, and all domestic birds, Attest the terror of his words. Cranks thus their intellects deflate

Of theories about the State.

This one avers ’tis built on Truth, And that on Temperance. This youth Declares that Science bears the pile; That graybeard, with a holy smile, Says Faith is the supporting stone; While women swear that Love alone Could so unflinchingly endure The heavy load.

He the johndonkey is who, when I pen Amorous verses in an idle mood To nobody, or of her, reads them through And, smirking, says he knows the lady; then Calls me sly dog. I wish he understood This tender sonnet’s application too.

What wrecked the Roman power? One says vice,

Another indolence, another dice. Emascle says polygamy. “Not so,” Says Impycu—“ ’twas luxury and show.” The parson, lifting up a brow of brass, Swears superstition gave the coup de grâce. Great Allison, the statesman-chap affirms ’Twas lack of coin (croaks Medico:

They’re all in error—never human mind The cause of the disaster has divined. What slew the Roman power? Well, provided

You’ll keep the secret, I will tell you. I did.

To a hunter from the city, Overtaken by the night, Spake, in tones of tender pity For himself, an aged wight:

A merry Christmas? Prudent, as I live!— You wish me something that you need not give.

Merry or sad, what does it signify?

To you ’tis equal if I laugh, or die.

Merry or sad, what does it signify?

To you ’tis equal if I laugh, or die.

Your hollow greeting, like a parrot’s jest, Finds all its meaning in the ear addressed.

Merry or sad, what does it signify? To you ’tis equal if I laugh, or die.

Your hollow greeting, like a parrot’s jest,

Finds all its meaning in the ear addressed.

Your hollow greeting, like a parrot’s jest,

Finds all its meaning in the ear addressed.

Why “merry” Christmas? Faith, I’d rather frown Than grin and caper like a tickled clown.

Why “merry” Christmas? Faith, I’d rather frown Than grin and caper like a tickled clown.

When fools are merry the judicious weep;

The wise are happy only when asleep.

When fools are merry the judicious weep;

The wise are happy only when asleep.

A present? Pray you give it to disarm A man more powerful to do you harm.

’Twas not your motive? Well, I cannot let You pay for favors that you’ll never get.

Perish the ancient custom of the gift,

Founded in terror and maintained in thrift!

Perish the ancient custom of the gift,

Founded in terror and maintained in thrift!

What men of honor need to aid their weal They purchase, or, occasion serving, steal.

Let Santa Claus descend again the flue; If Baby doubt it, swear that it is true.

“A lie well stuck to is as good as truth,”

And God’s too old to legislate for youth.

“A lie well stuck to is as good as truth,”

And God’s too old to legislate for youth.

Hail Christmas! On my knees and fowl I fall; For greater grace and better gravy call. Vive l’Humbug!—that’s to say, God bless us all!

And so he drew his final breath, He thought he saw with sorrow Some persons weeping for his death Who’d be all smiles to-morrow.

I dreamed that I was dead. The years went by:

The world forgot that such a man as I Had lived and written, although other names Were hailed with homage, in their turn to die.

I know not how it is—it seems Fantastic and surprising That after all these dreams and dreams, Here in the sun’s first level beams,

The sun is still just rising!

When first he showed his sovereign face, And bade the night-folk scuttle Back to their holes, I took my place Here on the hill, and God His grace Sent slumber soft and subtle.

I know not how it is—it seems

Fantastic and surprising

That after all these dreams and dreams, Here in the sun’s first level beams, The sun is still just rising!

I know not how it is—it seems Fantastic and surprising

That after all these dreams and dreams,

Here in the sun’s first level beams, The sun is still just rising!

I know not how it is—it seems Fantastic and surprising That after all these dreams and dreams,

Here in the sun’s first level beams,

The sun is still just rising!

War—what a hero I became By merely dreaming battle! Athwart the field of letters, Fame Blared through the brass my weary name With an ominous death-rattle.

Such an eternity of thought

Within a minute’s fraction! Such phantoms out of nothing wrought, And fading suddenly to naught As I awake to action!

Such an eternity of thought

Within a minute’s fraction!

Such phantoms out of nothing wrought, And fading suddenly to naught As I awake to action!

Successive bards pursue Ambition’s fire That shines, Oblivion, above thy mire. The latest mounts his predecessor’s trunk, And sinks his brother ere himself is sunk. So die ingloriously Fame’s elite, But dams of dunces keep the line complete.

Why ask me, Gastrogogue, to dine,

(Unless to praise your rascal wine) Yet never ask some luckless sinner Who needs, as I do not, a dinner?

Proclaims to all the world that this is he. In thought a tortoise but in act a hare, Slow to decide and impotent to dare, Yet no important crisis he ignores, But sleeps upon it, and for action—snores.

Says Rockefeller: “Money is not tight,”

And, faith, I’m thinking that the man is right. If it were not, at least in morals, loose He hardly could command it for his use.

Says Rockefeller: “Money is not tight,” And, faith, I’m thinking that the man is right. If it were not, at least in morals, loose He hardly could command it for his use.

Lo! the wild rabbit, happy in the pride

Of qualities to meaner beasts denied, Surveys the ass with reverence and fear, Adoring his superior length of ear, And says: “No living creature, lean or fat, But wishes in his heart to be like That!”

Lo! the wild rabbit, happy in the pride

Of qualities to meaner beasts denied,

Surveys the ass with reverence and fear, Adoring his superior length of ear, And says: “No living creature, lean or fat, But wishes in his heart to be like That!”

Let slaves and subjects with extolling psalms Before their sovereign execute salaams; The freeman scorns one idol to adore—

Tom, Dick, and Harry and himself are four.

A is defrauded of his land by B, Who’s driven from the premises by C. D buys the place with coin of plundered E. “That A’s an Anarchist!” says F to G.

“You acted unwisely,” I cried, “as you see By the outcome.” He calmly eyed me: “When choosing the course of my action,” said he,

“I had not the outcome to guide me.”

“Let patriots manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State; Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.”

“You acted unwisely,” I cried, “as you see By the outcome.” He calmly eyed me:

“When choosing the course of my action,” said he,

“I had not the outcome to guide me.”

“Let patriots manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State; Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.”

Stoop to a dirty trick or low misdeed?

What, bend him from his moral skies to it? No, no, not he! To serve his nature’s need He may upon occasion rise to it.

“It is not so, my friend: though in a garret ’Tis kept in camphor, and you often air it, The vermin will get into it and wear it.”

“I’ve found the secret of your charm,” I said,

Expounding with complacency my guess. Alas! the charm, even as I named it, fled, For all its secret was unconsciousness.

“I’ve found the secret of your charm,” I said, Expounding with complacency my guess. Alas! the charm, even as I named it, fled,

For all its secret was unconsciousness.

Study good women and ignore the rest, For he best knows the sex who knows the best.

“I’ve found the secret of your charm,” I said,

Expounding with complacency my guess.

Alas! the charm, even as I named it, fled, For all its secret was unconsciousness.

“I’ve found the secret of your charm,” I said, Expounding with complacency my guess.

Alas! the charm, even as I named it, fled,

For all its secret was unconsciousness.

“I’ve found the secret of your charm,” I said, Expounding with complacency my guess. Alas! the charm, even as I named it, fled, For all its secret was unconsciousness.

Study good women and ignore the rest,

For he best knows the sex who knows the best.

Study good women and ignore the rest,

For he best knows the sex who knows the best.

O statesmen, what would you be at, With torches, flags and bands? You make me first throw up my hat, And then my hands.

I fell asleep and dreamed that I Was flung, like Vulcan, from the sky; Like him was lamed—another part: His leg was crippled, and my heart. I woke in time to see my love Conceal a letter in her glove.

God said: “Let there be noise.” The dawning fire

Of Independence gilded every spire.

God said: “Let there be noise.” The dawning fire

Of Independence gilded every spire.

“If life were not worth living,” said the preacher, “ ’Twould have in suicide one pleasant feature.” “An error,” said the pessimist, “you’re making: What’s not worth having cannot be worth taking.”

God said: “Let there be noise.” The dawning fire Of Independence gilded every spire.

“If life were not worth living,” said the preacher,

“ ’Twould have in suicide one pleasant feature.” “An error,” said the pessimist, “you’re making: What’s not worth having cannot be worth taking.”

“If life were not worth living,” said the preacher,

“ ’Twould have in suicide one pleasant feature.”

“An error,” said the pessimist, “you’re making: What’s not worth having cannot be worth taking.”

A conqueror as provident as brave, He robbed the cradle to supply the grave. His reign laid quantities of human dust: He fell upon the just and the unjust.

Good for he’s old? Ah, Youth, you do not dream

How sweet the roses in the autumn seem!

Good for he’s old? Ah, Youth, you do not dream

How sweet the roses in the autumn seem!

I saw the devil. He was working free— A customs-house he builded by the sea. “Why do you this?” The devil raised his head: “Of churches I have built enough,” he said.

No more the swindler singly seeks his prey: To hunt in couples is the modern way— A rascal, from the public to purloin, An honest man to hide away the coin.

Great poets fire the world with fagots big

That make a crackling racket, But I’m content with but a whispering twig To warm some single jacket.

Great poets fire the world with fagots big That make a crackling racket, But I’m content with but a whispering twig

To warm some single jacket.

Says England to Germany: “Africa’s ours.” Says Germany: “Ours, I opine.” Says Africa: “Tell me, delectable Powers, What is it that ought to be mine?”

Great poets fire the world with fagots big

That make a crackling racket,

But I’m content with but a whispering twig To warm some single jacket.

Great poets fire the world with fagots big That make a crackling racket,

But I’m content with but a whispering twig

To warm some single jacket.

Nathaniel, Julian, Hildegardy! Sure the stock is far from hardy, And the name once heard with awe Now provokes the loud guffaw— “Hawthorne” in the memory dear, “Haw-haw-hawthorne” in the ear!

What parallel, neighbor, be pleased to expound

’Twixt Belgium’s king and you may be found? Why this: if the cable dispatches are true He lies on his deathbed. So would you.

God dreamed—the suns sprang flaming into place, And sailing worlds with many a venturous race! He woke—His smile alone illumined space.

When Admonition’s hand essays

Our greed to curse, Its lifted finger oft displays Our missing purse.

When Admonition’s hand essays Our greed to curse,

Its lifted finger oft displays

Our missing purse.

When Admonition’s hand essays Our greed to curse, Its lifted finger oft displays Our missing purse.

Fear not in any tongue to call

Upon the Lord—He’s skilled in all. But if He answereth my plea He speaketh one unknown to me.

Fear not in any tongue to call Upon the Lord—He’s skilled in all.

But if He answereth my plea

He speaketh one unknown to me.

Fear not in any tongue to call Upon the Lord—He’s skilled in all. But if He answereth my plea

He speaketh one unknown to me.

Noting the hangman’s frown and the law’s righteous rage, Our murderers live in terror till they die of age.

Fear not in any tongue to call Upon the Lord—He’s skilled in all. But if He answereth my plea He speaketh one unknown to me.

Noting the hangman’s frown and the law’s righteous rage,

Our murderers live in terror till they die of age.

Noting the hangman’s frown and the law’s righteous rage,

Our murderers live in terror till they die of age.

The Devil troubled a pool of mud, And Vierick from out the smother Arose and to prove his royal blood Defamed his peasant mother. Dear Devil, his poems—we’ll suffer all those, But do not again provoke him to prose.

Take, therefore, from this not all useless hand The crown of honor—not in all the land One honest man dissenting from the choice, Nor in approval one Fred Crocker’s voice!

A newspaper Death-poet sat at his desk,

Wrapped in appropriate gloom; His posture was pensive and picturesque, Like a raven charming a tomb.

A newspaper Death-poet sat at his desk,

Wrapped in appropriate gloom;

His posture was pensive and picturesque, Like a raven charming a tomb.

“By letting him buy, like apples or oats, With that which has made him so good, the votes Which make him so wise and grand and great. Now, father, please die, for ’tis growing late.”

I’d long been dead, but I returned to earth.

Some small affairs posterity was making A mess of, and I came to see that worth Received its dues. I’d hardly finished waking, The grave-mould still upon me, when my eye Perceived a statue standing straight and high.

I’d long been dead, but I returned to earth.

Some small affairs posterity was making

A mess of, and I came to see that worth Received its dues. I’d hardly finished waking, The grave-mould still upon me, when my eye Perceived a statue standing straight and high.

I’d long been dead, but I returned to earth. Some small affairs posterity was making

A mess of, and I came to see that worth

Received its dues. I’d hardly finished waking, The grave-mould still upon me, when my eye Perceived a statue standing straight and high.

What if the dead whom still you hate Were wrong? Are you so surely right? We know the issue of the fight—

The sword is but an advocate.

Men live and die, and other men Arise with knowledges diverse: What seemed a blessing seems a curse, And Now is still at odds with Then.

The years go on, the old comes back To mock the new—beneath the sun. Is nothing new; ideas run Recurrent in an endless track.

What most we censure, men as wise

Have reverently practiced; nor Will future wisdom fail to war On principles we dearly prize.

What most we censure, men as wise

Have reverently practiced; nor

Will future wisdom fail to war On principles we dearly prize.

What most we censure, men as wise Have reverently practiced; nor

Will future wisdom fail to war

On principles we dearly prize.

What most we censure, men as wise Have reverently practiced; nor Will future wisdom fail to war

On principles we dearly prize.

We do not know—we can but deem, And he is loyalest and best Who takes the light full on his breast And follows it throughout the dream.

We do not know—we can but deem, And he is loyalest and best Who takes the light full on his breast

And follows it throughout the dream.

The broken light, the shadows wide— Behold the battle-field displayed! God save the vanquished from the blade, The victor from the victor’s pride!

We do not know—we can but deem,

And he is loyalest and best

Who takes the light full on his breast And follows it throughout the dream.

We do not know—we can but deem, And he is loyalest and best

Who takes the light full on his breast

And follows it throughout the dream.

The broken light, the shadows wide— Behold the battle-field displayed! God save the vanquished from the blade,

The victor from the victor’s pride!

If, Salomon, the blessed dew That falls upon the Blue and Gray Is powerless to wash away The sin of differing from you.

The broken light, the shadows wide— Behold the battle-field displayed!

God save the vanquished from the blade,

The victor from the victor’s pride!

The dead are dead—let that atone: And though with equal hand we strew The blooms on saint and sinner too, Yet God will know to choose his own.

The wretch, whate’er his life and lot,

Who does not love the harmless dead With all his heart and all his head— May God forgive him—I shall not.

The wretch, whate’er his life and lot,

Who does not love the harmless dead

With all his heart and all his head— May God forgive him—I shall not.

Nay, this is not ingratitude; I’m no reporter, truly, Nor yet an editor. I’m rude— Perhaps unruly—

Because I burn with shame and rage

Beyond my power of telling To see assassins in a cage And keepers yelling.

To estimate in easy verse I’ll try The controversial value of a lie. So lend your ears—God knows you have enough!— I mean to teach, and if I can’t I’ll cuff.

A lie is wicked, so the priests declare;

But that to us is neither here nor there. ’Tis worse than wicked, it is vulgar too; N’importe—with that we’ve nothing here to do.

A lie is wicked, so the priests declare;

But that to us is neither here nor there.

’Tis worse than wicked, it is vulgar too; N’importe—with that we’ve nothing here to do.

Write, then, your largest and your longest lie: You shan’t believe it, howsoe’er you try. No falsehood you can tell, no evil do, Shall turn me from the truth to injure you. So all your war is barren of effect;

I find my victory in your respect.

What profit have you if the world you set Against me? For the world will soon forget It thought me this or that;

… climbed into the public view His charms of person more apparent grew, Till the pleased world that watched his airy grace Saw nothing of him but his nether face— Forgot his follies with his head’s retreat, And blessed his virtues as it viewed their seat.

The proverb hath it, Waterman:

“There never is great loss without Some little gain.” ’Tis Nature’s plan Of restitution, I’ve no doubt; As sometimes a repentant thief Restores, for conscience’s relief, Some ten percent, or thereabout, Of all the loot with which he ran.

“Rejoice, ye ever faithful,” bellows he, “The debt is lifted and the temple free!” Then says, aside, with gentle cachinnation: “I have a mortgage on the congregation.”

Thus the poor ass whose appetite has ne’er

Known than the thistle any sweeter fare Thinks all the world eats thistles.

Thus the clown, The wit and Mentor of the country town, Grins through the collar of a horse and thinks Others for pleasure do as he for drinks, Though secretly, because unwilling still In public to attest their lack of skill.

Each dunce whose life and mind all follies mar

Believes as he is all men living are— His vices theirs, their understandings his; Naught that he knows not, all he fancies, is, How odd that any mind such stuff should boast! How natural to write it in the Post!

Thus the poor ass whose appetite has ne’er

Known than the thistle any sweeter fare

Thinks all the world eats thistles.

Thus the poor ass whose appetite has ne’er Known than the thistle any sweeter fare

Thinks all the world eats thistles.

Thus the clown, The wit and Mentor of the country town, Grins through the collar of a horse and thinks Others for pleasure do as he for drinks, Though secretly, because unwilling still In public to attest their lack of skill.

Even children’s ponies went about, All grave and sober-paced, without A bulldog hanging to each nose— Proud of his fragrance, I suppose.

Dog being dead, Man’s lawless flame

Burned out: he granted Woman’s claim, Children’s and those of country, art— They all took lodgings in his heart.

Dog being dead, Man’s lawless flame

Burned out: he granted Woman’s claim,

Children’s and those of country, art— They all took lodgings in his heart.

In every age, by various names, You’ve won renown in story, But on your present record flames A greater glory.

Cain, Esau, and Iscariot too,

And Ananias, likewise, Each had peculiar powers, but who Could lie as Mike lies?

Suppose a pompous monument you raise Till on its peak the solar splendor blaze While yet about its base the night is black; But will it give your glory length of days?

Say, when beneath your rubbish has been thrown,

Some rogue to reputation all unknown— Men’s backs being turned—should lift his thieving hand, Efface your name and substitute his own,

Whose then would be the monument? To whom Would be the fame? Forgotten in your gloom— Your very name forgotten—ah, my friend,

The name is all that’s rescued by the tomb.

For memory of worth and work we go To other records than a stone can show. These lacking, naught remains; with these The stone is needless for the world will know.

Then build your mausoleum if you must, And creep into it with a perfect trust; But in the twinkling of an eye the plow Shall pass without obstruction through your dust.

Another movement of the pendulum,

And, lo! the desert-haunting wolf shall come, And, seated on the spot, shall howl by night O’er rotting cities, desolate and dumb.

Don’t drag the guillotine from its seclusion; Don’t whistle up a storm of blood and thunder, To fill the world with horror, fear and wonder! He’s dreadful in defining his position, He’s terrible in threatening sedition— And a Past Grand Master of Submission.

My days all are wasted in vainly

Contesting the field against Fate; My nights with remorses insanely Are swarming, and spectres of hate.

My days all are wasted in vainly

Contesting the field against Fate;

My nights with remorses insanely Are swarming, and spectres of hate.

… dry and warm, In irking comfort, lamentably gay, Keeping the evil tenor of your way, You walk abroad, sweet, beautiful and smug, And Justice hears you with her wonted shrug, Lifts her broad bandage half-an-inch and keeps One eye upon you while the other weeps.

Happy the man who sin’s proverbial wage Receives on the instalment plan⁠—in age.

For him the bulldog pistol’s honest bark Has naught of terror in its blunt remark. He looks with calmness on the gleaming steel— If e’er it touched his heart he did not feel:

Happy the man, I say, to whom the wage Of sin has been commuted into age. Yet not quite happy—hark, that horrid cry!— His cruel mirror wounds him in the eye!

Stanford and Huntington, so long at outs, Kissed and made up. If you have any doubts Dismiss them, for I saw them do it, man; And then⁠—why, then I clutched my purse and ran.

I dreamed that I was poor and ill and sad, Broken in hope and weary of my life; My ventures all miscarrying—naught had For all my labor in the heat and strife. And in my heart some certain thoughts were rife Of an unsummoned exit.

… duty accidentally discharged— Invoking still a “song o’ sixpence” from The Scottish fiddle of each lusty palm— Thy Judges, California, skilled to play This silent music, through the livelong day Perform obsequious before the rich, And still the more they scratch the more they itch!

Aeronaut, you’re fairly caught, Despite your bubble’s leaven: Out of the skies a lady’s eyes Have brought you down to Heaven!

No more, no more you’ll freely soar Above the grass and gravel: Henceforth you’ll walk—and she will chalk The line that you’re to travel!

“What of that?” “What of that?” cried the Father of Sin;

“Why, I thought when I saw you were winking At crimes such as theirs that perhaps you had been Converted to my way of thinking.”

Who’s this that lispeth in the thickening throng Which crowds to claim distinction in my song? Fresh from “the palms and temples of the South,” The mixed aromas quarrel in his mouth:

Honor thy parents, and perchance Their wills thy fortunes may advance.

Kill not⁠—death liberates thy foe From persecution’s constant woe.

Kiss not thy neighbor’s wife. Of course There’s no objection to divorce.

Kiss not thy neighbor’s wife. Of course There’s no objection to divorce.

To steal were folly, for ’tis plain In cheating there is greater gain.

Bear not false witness. Shake your head And say that you have “heard it said.”

To steal were folly, for ’tis plain In cheating there is greater gain.

Bear not false witness. Shake your head And say that you have “heard it said.”

Who stays to covet ne’er will catch An opportunity to snatch.

Bear not false witness. Shake your head And say that you have “heard it said.”

Who stays to covet ne’er will catch An opportunity to snatch.

A misunderstanding? Why, that’s a great scandal! So stick to the weapon you know how to handle. The tongue is a very uncertain convincer; Don’t draw it at all—keep it in, keep it in, sir.

Tut! Moody, do not try to show To gentlemen and ladies That if they have not “Faith,” they’ll go Headlong to Hades.

Faith is belief; and how can I Have that by being willing? This dime I cannot, though I try, Believe a shilling.

Perhaps you can. If so, pray do— Believe you own it, also. But what seems evidence to you I may not call so.

Heaven knows I’d like the Faith to think This little vessel’s contents Are liquid gold. I see ’tis ink For writing nonsense.

Minds prone to Faith, however, may Come now and then to sorrow: They put their trust in truth to-day, In lies to-morrow.

No doubt the happiness is great To think as one would wish to; But not to swallow every bait, As certain fish do.

Some lock their lips upon their deeds; some write A damning record and conceal from sight; Some, with a lust of speaking, die to quell it.

His way to keep a secret was to tell it.

Here sleeps one of the greatest students Of jurisprudence. Nature endowed him with the gift Of the juristhrift. All points of law alike he threw The dice to settle. Those honest cubes were loaded true With railway metal.

Here sleeps one of the greatest students Of jurisprudence. Nature endowed him with the gift Of the juristhrift. All points of law alike he threw The dice to settle. Those honest cubes were loaded true With railway metal.

Thy flesh to earth, thy soul to God, We gave, O gallant brother; And o’er thy grave the awkward squad Fired into one another!

Beneath this monument which rears its head, A giant note of admiration—dead, His life extinguished like a taper’s flame, John Ericsson is lying in his fame. Behold how massive is the lofty shaft; How fine the product of the sculptor’s craft;

A trencher-knight, he, mounted on his belly, So spurred his charger that its sides were jelly. Grown desperate at last, it reared and threw him, And Indigestion, overtaking, slew him.

Here the remains of Schuyler Colfax lie; Born, all the world knows when, and God knows why.

In ’71 he filled the public eye, In ’72 he bade the world good-bye; In God’s good time, with a protesting sigh, He came to life just long enough to die.

Born, all the world knows when, and God knows why. In ’71 he filled the public eye, In ’72 he bade the world good-bye; In God’s good time, with a protesting sigh, He came to life just long enough to die.

Of Morgan here lies the unspirited clay, Who secrets of Masonry swore to betray.

He joined the great Order and studied with zeal The awful arcana he meant to reveal. At last in chagrin by his own hand he fell— There was nothing to learn, there was nothing to tell. The Masons are said to have killed him.

He joined the great Order and studied with zeal The awful arcana he meant to reveal. At last in chagrin by his own hand he fell— There was nothing to learn, there was nothing to tell.

The Masons are said to have killed him. Not so⁠— Even a secret so foul, they’re compelled to forego.

Here rests a writer, great but not immense, Born destitute of feeling and of sense. No power he but o’er his brain desired— How not to suffer it to be inspired.

Beneath this stone sleeps Reuben Lloyd, Of breath deprived, of sense devoid. The Templars’ Captain-General, he So formidable seemed to be, That had he not been on his back Death ne’er had ventured to attack.

Here lies Greer Harrison, a well cracked louse⁠— So small a tenant of so big a house!

Who loved to loll on the Parnassian mount, His pen to suck and all his thumbs to count.

Not ignorant but skilled, alas, In all the secrets of his trade: He knew more ways to be an ass Than any ass that ever brayed.

Here lies the last of Deacon Fitch, Whose business was to melt the pitch.

Convenient to this sacred spot Lies Sammy, who applied it, hot. ’Tis hard—so much alike they smell—

Mourn here for one Bruner, called Elwood. He doesn’t—he never did—smell good To noses of critics and scholars. If now he’d an office to sell could He sell it? O, no—where (in Hell) could He find a cool four hundred dollars?

Here Stanford lies, who thought it odd That he should go to meet his God. He looked, until his eyes grew dim, For God to hasten to meet him.

Seated in his den, in the chill gloom of a winter twilight, comforting his stomach with hoarded bits of cheese and broad biscuits, Mr. Grile thinketh unto himself after this fashion of thought:

To eat biscuits and cheese before dining is to confess that you do not expect to dine.

“Once bit, twice shy,” is a homely saying, but singularly true. A man who has been swindled will be very cautious the second time, and the third. The fourth time he may be swindled again more easily and completely than before.

Baldheaded women are a very common spectacle.

Piety, like small-pox, comes by infection.

Robinson Crusoe, however, caught it alone on his island. It is probable that he had it in his blood.

Those who cherish the opposite opinion may be very good citizens.

Old shoes are easiest, because they have accommodated themselves to the feet. Old friends are least intolerable because they have adapted themselves to the inferior parts of our character.

Between old friends and old shoes there are other points of resemblance.

Old shoes are easiest, because they have accommodated themselves to the feet. Old friends are least intolerable because they have adapted themselves to the inferior parts of our character.

Between old friends and old shoes there are other points of resemblance.

Everybody professes to know that it would be difficult to find a needle in a haystack, but very few reflect that this is because haystacks seldom contain needles.

Between old friends and old shoes there are other points of resemblance.

Everybody professes to know that it would be difficult to find a needle in a haystack, but very few reflect that this is because haystacks seldom contain needles.

A man with but one leg is a better man than a man with two legs, for the reason that there is less of him.

Everybody professes to know that it would be difficult to find a needle in a haystack, but very few reflect that this is because haystacks seldom contain needles.

A man with but one leg is a better man than a man with two legs, for the reason that there is less of him.

A man without any legs is better than a man with one leg; not because there is less of him, but because he cannot get about to enact so much wickedness.

A man without any legs is better than a man with one leg; not because there is less of him, but because he cannot get about to enact so much wickedness.

When an ostrich is pursued he conceals his head in a bush; when a man is pursued he conceals his property. By instinct each knows his enemy’s design.

There are two things that should be avoided; the deadly upas tree and soda water. The latter will make you puffy and poddy.

This list of things to be avoided is necessarily incomplete.

In calling a man a hog, it is the man who gets angry, but it is the hog who is insulted. Men are always taking up the quarrels of others.

Give an American a newspaper and a pie and he will make himself comfortable anywhere.

In calling a man a hog, it is the man who gets angry, but it is the hog who is insulted. Men are always taking up the quarrels of others.

Give an American a newspaper and a pie and he will make himself comfortable anywhere.

The world of mind will be divided upon the question of baptism so long as there are two simple and effective methods of baptising, and they are equally disagreeable.

They are not equally disagreeable, but each is disagreeable enough to attract disciples.

The face of a pig is a more handsome face than the face of a man⁠—in the pig’s opinion.

A pig’s opinion upon this question is as likely to be correct as is a man’s opinion.

The most gifted people are not always the most favoured: a man with twelve legs can derive no benefit from ten of them without crawling like a centipede.

A woman and a cow are the two most beautiful creatures in the world. For proof of the beauty of a cow, the reader is referred to an ox; for proof of the beauty of a woman, an ox is referred to the reader.

There is reason to believe that a baby is less comely than a calf, for the reason that all kine esteem the calf the more comely beast, and there is one man who does not esteem the baby the more comely beast.

The moon always presents the same side to the earth because she is heaviest on that side. The opposite side, however, is more private and secluded.

Christians and camels receive their burdens kneeling.

It was never intended that men should be saints in heaven until they are dead and good for nothing else. On earth they are mostly

Christians and camels receive their burdens kneeling.

It was never intended that men should be saints in heaven until they are dead and good for nothing else. On earth they are mostly

I, Grile, have arranged these primal truths in the order of their importance, in the hope that some patient investigator may amplify and codify them into a coherent body of doctrine, and so establish a new religion.

When a favourite dog has an incurable pain, you “put him out of his misery” with a bullet or an axe. A favourite child similarly afflicted is preserved as long as possible, in torment.

I do not say that this is not right; I claim only that it is not consistent. There are two sorts of kindness; one for dogs, and another for children.

Hence it needs not surprise that they are not very devout worshippers; it is a great wonder they do not openly scoff.

The influence of climate upon civilization has been more exhaustively treated than studied. Otherwise, we should know how it is that some countries that have so much climate have no civilization.

Whoso shall insist upon holding your attention while he expounds to you things that you have always thriven without knowing resembles one who should go about with a hammer, cracking nuts upon other people’s heads and eating the kernels himself.

The influence of climate upon civilization has been more exhaustively treated than studied. Otherwise, we should know how it is that some countries that have so much climate have no civilization.

Whoso shall insist upon holding your attention while he expounds to you things that you have always thriven without knowing resembles one who should go about with a hammer, cracking nuts upon other people’s heads and eating the kernels himself.

There are but two kinds of temporary insanity, and each has but a single symptom. The one was discovered by a coroner, the other by a lawyer. The one induces you to kill yourself when you are unwell of life;

The one was discovered by a coroner, the other by a lawyer. The one induces you to kill yourself when you are unwell of life; the other persuades you to kill somebody else when you are fatigued of seeing him about.

People who honour their fathers and their mothers have the comforting promise that their days shall be long in the land. They are not sufficiently numerous to make the life assurance companies think it worth their while to offer them special rates.

There are people who dislike to die, for apparently no better reason than that there are a few vices they have not had the time to try;

He was crazy. I knew another who taught me what country lay upon the other side of the grave. He was a most acute thinker—as he had need to be.

Those who are horrified at Mr. Darwin’s theory, may comfort themselves with the assurance that, if we are descended from the ape, we have not descended so far as to preclude all hope of return.

There is more poison in aphorisms than in painted candy; but it is of a less seductive kind.

Those who are horrified at Mr. Darwin’s theory, may comfort themselves with the assurance that, if we are descended from the ape, we have not descended so far as to preclude all hope of return.

There is more poison in aphorisms than in painted candy; but it is of a less seductive kind.

If it were as easy to invent a credible falsehood as it is to believe one, we should have little else in print. The mechanical construction of a falsehood is a matter of the gravest import.

There is more poison in aphorisms than in painted candy; but it is of a less seductive kind.

If it were as easy to invent a credible falsehood as it is to believe one, we should have little else in print.

The mechanical construction of a falsehood is a matter of the gravest import.

Heaven gives to each man a wife, and intends that he shall cleave to her alone. To cleave is either to “split” or to “stick.” To cleave to your wife is to split her with a stick.

A strong mind is more easily impressed than a weak one: you shall not as readily convince a fool that you are a philosopher, as a philosopher that you are a fool.

In our intercourse with men, their national peculiarities and customs are entitled to consideration. In addressing the common Frenchman take off your hat; in addressing the common Irishman make him take off his.

In our intercourse with men, their national peculiarities and customs are entitled to consideration.

In addressing the common Frenchman take off your hat; in addressing the common Irishman make him take off his.

It is nearly always untrue to say of a man that he wishes to leave a great property behind him when he dies. Usually he would like to take it along.

In our intercourse with men, their national peculiarities and customs are entitled to consideration. In addressing the common Frenchman take off your hat; in addressing the common Irishman make him take off his.

It is nearly always untrue to say of a man that he wishes to leave a great property behind him when he dies. Usually he would like to take it along.

Benevolence is as purely selfish as greed. No one would do a benevolent action if he knew it would entail remorse.

It is nearly always untrue to say of a man that he wishes to leave a great property behind him when he dies. Usually he would like to take it along.

Benevolence is as purely selfish as greed. No one would do a benevolent action if he knew it would entail remorse.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a matter of unceasing wonder that, having gone to the extreme limit of the former, so many people manage to stop short exactly at the line of demarcation.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a matter of unceasing wonder that, having gone to the extreme limit of the former, so many people manage to stop short exactly at the line of demarcation.

Most people have no more definite idea of liberty than that it consists in being compelled by law to do as they like.

Every man is at heart a brute, and the greatest injury you can put upon anyone is to provoke him into displaying his nature. No gentleman ever forgives the man who makes him let out his beast.

The Psalmist never saw the seed of the righteous begging bread. In our day they sometimes request pennies for keeping the street-crossings in order.

When two wholly irreconcilable propositions are presented to the mind, the safest way is to thank Heaven that we are not like the unreasoning brutes, and believe both.

If every malefactor in the church were known by his face it would be necessary to prohibit the secular tongue from crying “stop thief.” Otherwise the church bells could not be heard of a pleasant Sunday.

If every malefactor in the church were known by his face it would be necessary to prohibit the secular tongue from crying “stop thief.” Otherwise the church bells could not be heard of a pleasant Sunday.

Truth is more deceptive than falsehood, because it is commonly employed by those from whom we do not expect it, and so passes for what it is not.

“If people only knew how foolish it is” to take their wine with a dash of prussic acid, it is probable that they would—prefer to take it with that addition.

The canary gets his name from the dog, an animal whom he looks down upon. We get a good many worse things than names from those beneath us; and they give us a bad name too.

Faith is the best evidence in the world; it reconciles contradictions and proves impossibilities. It is wonderfully developed in the blind.

He who undertakes an “Account of Idiots in All Ages” will find himself committed to the task of compiling most known biographies. Some future publisher will affix a life of the compiler.

Gratitude is regarded as a precious virtue, because tendered as a fair equivalent for any conceivable service.

A bad marriage is like an electric machine: it makes you dance, but you can’t let go.

The symbol of Charity should be a circle. It usually ends exactly where it begins—at home.

A bad marriage is like an electric machine: it makes you dance, but you can’t let go.

The symbol of Charity should be a circle. It usually ends exactly where it begins⁠—at home.

Most people redeem a promise as an angler takes in a trout; by first playing it with a good deal of line.

The symbol of Charity should be a circle. It usually ends exactly where it begins—at home.

Most people redeem a promise as an angler takes in a trout; by first playing it with a good deal of line.

It is a grave mistake to suppose defaulters have no consciences. Some of them have been known, under favourable circumstances, to restore as much as ten percent of their plunder.

It is a grave mistake to suppose defaulters have no consciences. Some of them have been known, under favourable circumstances, to restore as much as ten percent of their plunder.

There is nothing so progressive as grief, and nothing so infectious as progress.

I have seen an acre of cemetery infected by a single innovation in spelling cut upon a tombstone.

There is nothing so progressive as grief, and nothing so infectious as progress. I have seen an acre of cemetery infected by a single innovation in spelling cut upon a tombstone.

It is wicked to cheat on Sunday. The law recognises this truth, and shuts up the shops.

In the infancy of our language to be “foolish” signified to be affectionate; to be “fond” was to be silly. We have altered that now: to be “foolish” is to be silly, to be “fond” is to be affectionate.

We speak of the affections as originating in instinct. This is a miserable subterfuge to shift the obloquy from the judgment.

What we call decency is custom; what we term indecency is merely customary.

The noblest pursuit of Man is the pursuit of Woman.

What we call decency is custom; what we term indecency is merely customary.

The noblest pursuit of Man is the pursuit of Woman.

“Immoral” is the solemn judgment of the stalled ox upon the sun-inspired lamb.

The noblest pursuit of Man is the pursuit of Woman.

“Immoral” is the solemn judgment of the stalled ox upon the sun-inspired lamb.

“Immoral” is the judgment of the stalled ox on the gamboling lamb.

In forgiving an injury be somewhat ceremonious, lest your magnanimity be construed as indifference.

True, man does not know woman. But neither does woman.

In forgiving an injury be somewhat ceremonious, lest your magnanimity be construed as indifference.

True, man does not know woman. But neither does woman.

Age is provident because the less future we have the more we fear it.

True, man does not know woman. But neither does woman.

Age is provident because the less future we have the more we fear it.

Reason is fallible and virtue vincible; the winds vary and the needle forsakes the pole, but stupidity never errs and never intermits. Since it has been found that the axis of the earth wabbles, stupidity is indispensable as a standard of constancy.

In order that the list of able women may be memorized for use at meetings of the oppressed sex, Heaven has considerately made it brief.

Firmness is my persistency; obstinacy is yours.

A little heap of dust, A little streak of rust, A stone without a name— Lo! hero, sword and fame.

A little heap of dust, A little streak of rust, A stone without a name— Lo! hero, sword and fame.

Our vocabulary is defective; we give the same name to woman’s lack of temptation and man’s lack of opportunity.

“You scoundrel, you have wronged me,” hissed the philosopher. “May you live forever!”

Our vocabulary is defective; we give the same name to woman’s lack of temptation and man’s lack of opportunity.

“You scoundrel, you have wronged me,” hissed the philosopher. “May you live forever!”

The man who thinks that a garnet can be made a ruby by setting it in brass is writing “dialect” for publication.

“You scoundrel, you have wronged me,” hissed the philosopher. “May you live forever!”

The man who thinks that a garnet can be made a ruby by setting it in brass is writing “dialect” for publication.

“Who art thou, stranger, and what dost thou seek?”

“Who art thou, stranger, and what dost thou seek?”

“I am Generosity, and I seek a person named Gratitude.”

“Then thou dost not deserve to find her.”

“True. I will go about my business and think of her no more. But who art thou, to be so wise?”

There was never a genius who was not thought a fool until he disclosed himself; whereas he is a fool then only.

The boundaries that Napoleon drew have been effaced; the kingdoms that he set up have disappeared. But all the armies and statecraft of Europe cannot unsay what you have said.

Strive not for singularity in dress; Fools have the more and men of sense the less. To look original is not worth while, But be in mind a little out of style.

A conqueror arose from the dead. “Yesterday,” he said, “I ruled half the world.” “Please show me the half that you ruled,” said an angel, pointing out a wisp of glowing vapor floating in space. “That is the world.”

“Who art thou, shivering in thy furs?”

“Where is thy clothing, placid one?”

To be comic is merely to be playful, but wit is a serious matter. To laugh at it is to confess that you do not understand.

If you would be accounted great by your contemporaries, be not too much greater than they.

To be comic is merely to be playful, but wit is a serious matter. To laugh at it is to confess that you do not understand.

If you would be accounted great by your contemporaries, be not too much greater than they.

To have something that he will not desire, nor know that he has—such is the hope of him who seeks the admiration of posterity. The character of his work does not matter; he is a humorist.

To have something that he will not desire, nor know that he has—such is the hope of him who seeks the admiration of posterity. The character of his work does not matter; he is a humorist.

Women and foxes, being weak, are distinguished by superior tact.

To fatten pigs, confine and feed them; to fatten rogues, cultivate a generous disposition.

Women and foxes, being weak, are distinguished by superior tact.

To fatten pigs, confine and feed them; to fatten rogues, cultivate a generous disposition.

Every heart is the lair of a ferocious animal. The greatest wrong that you can put upon a man is to provoke him to let out his beast.

To fatten pigs, confine and feed them; to fatten rogues, cultivate a generous disposition.

Every heart is the lair of a ferocious animal.

The greatest wrong that you can put upon a man is to provoke him to let out his beast.

A bad marriage is like an electrical thrilling machine: it makes you dance, but you can’t let go.

Meeting Merit on a street-crossing, Success stood still. Merit stepped off into the mud and went round him, bowing his apologies, which Success had the grace to accept.

“I think,” says the philosopher divine, “Therefore I am.” Sir, here’s a surer sign: We know we live, for with our every breath We feel the fear and imminence of death.

Meeting Merit on a street-crossing, Success stood still. Merit stepped off into the mud and went round him, bowing his apologies, which Success had the grace to accept.

“I think,” says the philosopher divine, “Therefore I am.” Sir, here’s a surer sign: We know we live, for with our every breath We feel the fear and imminence of death.

The first man you meet is a fool. If you do not think so ask him and he will prove it.

“I think,” says the philosopher divine, “Therefore I am.” Sir, here’s a surer sign: We know we live, for with our every breath We feel the fear and imminence of death.

The first man you meet is a fool. If you do not think so ask him and he will prove it.

He who would rather inflict injustice than suffer it will always have his choice, for no injustice can be done to him.

The first man you meet is a fool. If you do not think so ask him and he will prove it.

He who would rather inflict injustice than suffer it will always have his choice, for no injustice can be done to him.

There are as many conceptions of a perfect happiness hereafter as there are minds that have marred their happiness here.

There are as many conceptions of a perfect happiness hereafter as there are minds that have marred their happiness here.

We yearn to be, not what we are, but what we are not. If we were immortal we should not crave immortality.

A rabbit’s foot may bring good luck to you, but it brought none to the rabbit.

We yearn to be, not what we are, but what we are not. If we were immortal we should not crave immortality.

A rabbit’s foot may bring good luck to you, but it brought none to the rabbit.

Before praising the wisdom of the man who knows how to hold his tongue, ascertain if he knows how to hold his pen.

A rabbit’s foot may bring good luck to you, but it brought none to the rabbit.

Before praising the wisdom of the man who knows how to hold his tongue, ascertain if he knows how to hold his pen.

The most charming view in the world is obtained by introspection.