Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
16 lines, 1 comment
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
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There were three sailors of Bristol city
Who took a boat and went to sea.
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For the sole edification
Of this decent congregation,
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Although I enter not,
Yet round about the spot,
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Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is, --
I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
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A street there is in Paris famous,
For which no rhyme our language yields,
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In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
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Christmas is here:
Winds whistle shrill,
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There lived a sage in days of yore,
And he a handsome pigtail wore;
24 lines, 4 comments
Part I.
At Paris, hard by the Maine barriers,
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No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for thee;
No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free:
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The noble King of Brentford
Was old and very sick,
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On deck, beneath the awning,
I dozing lay and yawning;
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Riding from Coleraine
(Famed for lovely Kitty),
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But yesterday a naked sod
The dandies sneered from Rotten Row,
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"A surgeon of the United States' army says that on inquiring of
the Captain of his company, he found that NINE-TENTHS of the men
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"I am Miss Catherine's book," the album speaks;
"I've lain among your tomes these many weeks;
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"Coming from a gloomy court,
Place of Israelite resort,
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Seventeen rosebuds in a ring,
Thick with sister flowers beset,
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As on this pictured page I look,
This pretty tale of line and hook
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The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
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"Quand vous serez bien vielle, le soir a la chandelle
Assise aupres du feu devisant et filant,
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Little KITTY LORIMER,
Fair, and young, and witty,
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By fate's benevolent award,
Should I survive the day,
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Ah! bleak and barren was the moor,
Ah! loud and piercing was the storm,
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A humble flower long time I pined
Upon the solitary plain,
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Beside the old hall-fire—upon my nurse's knee,
Of happy fairy days—what tales were told to me!
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Wearied arm and broken sword
Wage in vain the desperate fight:
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Returning from the cruel fight
How pale and faint appears my knight!
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