Horace to Pyrrha
What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, On the quiet? For whom do you bind up your tresses, As spun-gold yellow, Meshes that go, with your
Pan liveth
They told me once that Pan was dead, And so, in sooth, I thought him; For vainly where the streamlets led Through flowery meads I sought him Nor in his dewy pasture bed Nor
The Conversazzhony
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know, For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago; The camp wuz new ‘nd noisy, ‘nd only modrit sized, So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly crystallized.
Chicago Weather
To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl! Strays o’er the meads where daisies blow, Or, ling’ring where the brooklets purl, Laves in the cool, refreshing flow. To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host Of amorous suitors in her
Madge: Ye Hoyden
At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft, Ffor that a romping wench was shee “Now marke this rede,” they bade her oft, “Forsooken sholde your folly bee!” But Madge, ye hoyden, laught & cried, “Oho,
Little croodlin doo
Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo? Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea? Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a
Ben apfelgarten
There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called, Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago, And he was very fortunate in being very bald And so was very happy he was
Japanese lullaby
Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging Swinging the nest where her little one lies. Away out yonder I see a
The discreet collector
Down south there is a curio-shop Unknown to many men; Thereat do I intend to stop When I am south again; The narrow street through which to go Aha! I know it well! And
The Bibliomaniac's Prayer
Keep me, I pray, in wisdom’s way That I may truths eternal seek; I need protecting care to-day, My purse is light, my flesh is weak. So banish from my erring heart All baleful
The "happy isles" of horace
Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles In the golden haze off yonder, Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles, And the ocean loves to wander. Fragrant the vines that mantle those
Two valentines
I. TO MISTRESS BARBARA There were three cavaliers, all handsome and true, On Valentine’s day came a maiden to woo, And quoth to your mother: “Good-morrow, my dear, We came with some songs for
Jessie
When I remark her golden hair Swoon on her glorious shoulders, I marvel not that sight so rare Doth ravish all beholders; For summon hence all pretty girls Renowned for beauteous tresses, And you
Soldier, Maiden, and Flower
“Sweetheart, take this,” a soldier said, “And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne’er shall wed, But love can never die. Be steadfast in thy troth to me, And then, whate’er my
The Lyttel Boy
Sometime there ben a lyttel boy That wolde not renne and play, And helpless like that little tyke Ben allwais in the way. “Goe, make you merrie with the rest,” His weary moder cried;