Pale Ebenezer Thought It Wrong To Fight.

I Said To Heart, "how Goes It?" Heart Replied: "right As A Ribstone Pippin!" But It Lied.

When I Am Dead, I Hope It May Be Said: His Sins Were Scarlet, But His Books Were Read.

The Choice Lies Between Property On The One Hand And Slavery, Public Or Private, On The Other. There Is No Third Issue.

Torture Will Give A Dozen Pence Or More To Keep A Drab From Bawling At His Door. The Public Taste Is Quite A Different Thing Torture Is Positively Paid To Sing.

Here Richly, With Ridiculous Display, The Politician's Corpse Was Laid Away. While All Of His Acquaintance Sneered And Slanged I Wept: For I Had Longed To See Him Hanged.