Some learned writers . . . have compared a Scorpion to an Epigram
. . . because as the read more

Some learned writers . . . have compared a Scorpion to an Epigram
. . . because as the sting of the Scorpion lyeth in the tayl, so
the force and virtue of an epigram is in the conclusion.

Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
Nor read more

Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around,
Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.

The lively Shadow-World of Song.

The lively Shadow-World of Song.

You are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself read more

You are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly,
Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.

I think, whatever mortals crave,
With impotent endeavor,
A wreath--a rank--a throne--a grave--
The read more

I think, whatever mortals crave,
With impotent endeavor,
A wreath--a rank--a throne--a grave--
The world goes round forever;
I think that life is not too long,
And therefore I determine,
That many people read a song,
Who will not read a sermon.

I can not sing the old songs now!
It is not that I deem them low,
'Tis read more

I can not sing the old songs now!
It is not that I deem them low,
'Tis that I can't remember how
They go.

Everything ends with songs.
[Fr., Tout finit par des chansons.]

Everything ends with songs.
[Fr., Tout finit par des chansons.]

The song on its mighty pinions
Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven.

The song on its mighty pinions
Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven.