The Poetical Works of James R. Lowell ...Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - Poetry |
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afore agin agoin aint airth Anakim arter bard bein believe Biglow bore BOSTON COURIER brain Calhoun cocktale darned Demmercrats discourse door doubt doughface dreffle ears Eliab fancy father feller folks frum fust ghosts give goin gret haint heart holl Hosea idee Jaalam jine John Bull keep ketch kind Knott letters long ez look mind Mister nater natural never night North nothin o'er ollers on't once ould person poem poet raps reader rhyme Robinson he Sez round Sawin sech seemed Sez John slavery sort soul spiled spirits spose star-spangled banner sutthin t'other tell ye there's thet thet's thing thou thought thru tion true turn twas verse vote fer Ware wich Wilbur worn't Yankee
Popular passages
Page 171 - GUVENER B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes; — But John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him, o...
Page 60 - T is as if a rough oak that for ages had stood, With his gnarled bony branches like ribs of the wood, Should bloom, after cycles of struggle and scathe, With a single anemone trembly and rathe...
Page 150 - Freedom's airy Tell they're pupple in the face, — It's a grand gret cemetary Per the barthrights of our race; They jest want this Californy So's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An
Page 104 - There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Page 171 - An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes : But John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My ! ain't it terrible ? Wut shall we du ? We can't never choose him, o' course — thet 's flat ; Guess we shall hev to come round (don't you.
Page 44 - C. labors to get at the centre, and then Take a reckoning from there of his actions and men ; E. calmly assumes the said centre as granted, And, given himself, has whatever is wanted.
Page 172 - Polk, you know, he is our country. An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an' to us the per contry; An' John P. Robinson he Sez this is his view o
Page 72 - Why, there is not a bard at this moment alive More willing than he that his fellows should thrive; While you are abusing him thus, even now He would help either one of you out of a slough; You may say that...
Page 81 - There's Holmes, who is matchless among you for wit ; A Leyden-jar always full-charged, from which flit The electrical tingles of hit after hit ; In long poems...
Page 105 - He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha