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Showing: 21-30 results of 897

THE RAVEN. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."'T is some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its... more...

Some years ago, while editing Henry C. Whitney's "Life of Lincoln" I showed a photograph of the bust of Lincoln by Johannes Gelert, the most intellectual to my mind of all the studies of his face, to a little Italian shoeblack, and asked him if he knew who it was. The boy, evidently prompted by a recent lesson at school, said questioningly, "Whittier?—Longfellow?" I replied, "No, it is Lincoln, the great President." He answered, "Well, he... more...

No one can have reflected on the history of genius without being impressed with a melancholy feeling at the obscurity in which the lives of the poets of our country are, with few exceptions, involved. That they lived, and wrote, and died, comprises nearly all that is known of many, and, of others, the few facts which are preserved are often records of privations, or sufferings, or errors. The cause of the lamentable deficiency of materials for... more...

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN Listen I. Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,By famous Hanover city;The river Weser, deep and wide,Washes its wall on the southern side;A pleasanter spot you never spied;But, when begins my ditty,Almost five hundred years ago,To see the townsfolk suffer soFrom vermin, was a pity.   Listen II. Rats!They fought the dogs and killed the cats,And bit the babies in the cradles,   And ate the cheeses out of the... more...

THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. I love it, I love it; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? I've cherished it long as a sainted prize; I've bedewed it with tears and embalmed it with sighs 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell?—a mother sat there: And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair. In childhood's hour I lingered near The hallowed... more...


by Homer
INTRODUCTION Scepticism is as much the result of knowledge, as knowledge is of scepticism. To be content with what we at present know, is, for the most part, to shut our ears against conviction; since, from the very gradual character of our education, we must continually forget, and emancipate ourselves from, knowledge previously acquired; we must set aside old notions and embrace fresh ones; and, as we learn, we must be daily unlearning... more...

Medusa How did Medusa do her hair?The question fills me with despair.It must have caused her sore distressThat head of curling snakes to dress.Whenever after endless toilShe coaxed it finally to coil,The music of a Passing BandWould cause each separate hair to standOn end and sway and writhe and spit,—She couldn't "do a thing with it."And, being woman and awareOf such disaster to her hair,What could she do but petrifyAll whom she met,... more...

Milkmaid. An Old Song exhibited & explainedin many designs by R. Caldecott.   A Lady said to her Son—a poor young Squire: “You must seek a Wife with a Fortune!”                   “Where are you going, my Pretty Maid?” “I'm going a-milking, Sir,” she said.               “Shall I go with... more...

HUSH-a-bye, baby, on the tree top, When the wind blows, the cradle will rock; When the bough bends, the cradle will fall. Down will come baby, cradle, and all. CURRAHOO, curr dhoo, Love me, and I'll love you! [Imitate a Pigeon] WHEN the days begin to lengthen The cold begins to strengthen. CANTALOUPES! Cantaloupes! What is the price? Eight for a dollar, and all very nice.... more...

Winter and Summer In Winter when the air is chill,And winds are blowing loud and shrill,All snug and warm I sit and purr,Wrapped in my overcoat of fur. In Summer quite the other way,I find it very hot all day,But Human People do not care,For they have nice thin clothes to wear. And does it not seem hard to you,When all the world is like a stew,And I am much too warm to purr,I have to wear my Winter Fur?   Rain The rain is... more...