In Bohemia (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
Ha! My dear! I'm back again-- Vendor of Bohemia's wares! Lordy! How it pants a man Climbing up those awful stairs! Well, I've made ...
Ha! My dear! I'm back again-- Vendor of Bohemia's wares! Lordy! How it pants a man Climbing up those awful stairs! Well, I've made ...
WHEN I tell a tale of virtue and of injured innocence,Then my publishers and lawyers are the densest of the ...
MAGAZINE PUBLISHER AND MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT)BEING A TRUE AND PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE GRAND MILLING MATCH THAT DIDN'T TAKE PLACESAYS ...
It was a late book given up for lostagain and again with its sentencesbare at last and phrases that seemed ...
Duporte the roofer that calm voicethose sure hands gentling weathered tilesinto new generations orhalf of him rising through a rooflike ...
Now that you have caught sightof the other side of darknessthe invisible sideso that you can tellit is risingfirst thing ...
Write a poem, dunderhead, That we may have new dresses(Is it not disgraceful how The old man takes caresses?)Take them to the ...
I had just won $115 from the headshakers and was naked upon my bed listening to an opera by one ...
THIS morning came a man to me, his smile was wonderful to see, He shook my hand and doffed his ...
"AUTHOR. Good morning, sir, I'm come to sell A work, perhaps may suit you well; 'Tis styl'd the Gamester, and ...
DERE was an old nigger, and him name was Uncle Tom,And him tale was rather slow;Me try to read de ...
Never trust a white man,Never kill a Jew,Never sign a contract,Never rent a pew.Don't enlist in armies;Nor marry many wives;Never ...
THESE are the folios of April, All the library of spring, Missals gilt and rubricated With the frost's illumining.Ruthless, we ...
It is funny; feels strange being so exposed, so public so many poems, so many thoughts, passions, ideas, blurted out ...
Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain In Dalton that would someday make his fortune. There'd been some Boston people ...
I met a lady from the South who said (You won't believe she said it, but she said it): "None ...
Alone in Sutton with Fynbos my orange cat A long weekend of wind and rain drowning The tumultuous flurry of ...
Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalized his pen; Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of ...
He's gone. She can't believe it, can't go on. She's going to give up painting. So she paints Her final ...
In a humble room in London sat a pretty little boy, By the bedside of his sick mother her only ...
In Lake Forest, a suburb of Chicago, a woman sits at her desk to write me a letter. She holds ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories