Humorous poems by English and American writers

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William Michael Rossetti
Ward, Lock, & Company, 1878 - 488 oldal

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77. oldal - Yet do not, I would not go, Though at next door we might meet, Though she were true, when you met her, And last, till you write your letter, Yet she Will be False, ere I come, to two, or three.
218. oldal - Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws...
190. oldal - THE TURKEY AND THE ANT. In other men we faults can spy, And blame the mote that dims their eye, Each little speck and blemish find, To our own stronger errors blind. A turkey, tired of common food, Forsook the barn, and sought the wood; Behind her ran her infant train, Collecting here and there a grain. 'Draw near, my birds,' the mother cries, This hill delicious fare supplies; Behold, the busy negro race, See, millions blacken all the place!
123. oldal - Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together! And am like to love three more. If it prove fair weather. Time shall moult away his wings Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover.
467. oldal - Under the yaller-pines I house, When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented, An' hear among their furry boughs The baskin' west-wind purr contented, While 'way o'erhead, ez sweet an' low Ez distant bells thet ring for meetin', The wedged wil' geese their bugles blow, Further an' further South retreatin'. Or up the slippery knob I strain An...
148. oldal - For though the Muses should prove kind, And fill our empty brain, Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind To wave the azure main, Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, Roll up and down our ships at sea — With a fa, la, la, la, la.
378. oldal - Who's this?" I answer nought but ho ho ho ! Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool ; And, while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at...
458. oldal - 11 keep the people in blindness,— Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash Eight inter brotherly kindness, Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n' ball Air good-will's strongest magnets, Thet peace, to make it stick at all, Must be druv in with bagnets. In short, I firmly du believe In Humbug generally, Fer it's a thing thet I perceive To hev a solid vally; This heth my faithful shepherd ben, In pasturs sweet heth led me, An' this '11 keep the people green To feed ez they hev fed me.
139. oldal - HOLLAND, that scarce deserves the name of land As but the off-scouring of the British sand, And so much earth as was contributed By English pilots when they heaved the lead, Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell Of shipwrecked cockle and the muscle-shell, — This indigested vomit of the sea Fell to the Dutch by just propriety.
148. oldal - TO all you ladies now at land We men at sea indite ; But first would have you understand How hard it is to write : The Muses now, and Neptune too, We must implore to write to you — With a fa, la, la, la, la.

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