Woman wants monogamy;
Man delights in novelty.
Love is woman's moon and sun;
Man has other forms of fun.
Woman lives but in her lord;
Count to ten, and man is bored.
With this the gist and sum of it,
What earthly good can come of it?

I've grown so wretched,
I'd break this sad body
off from its roots,
drift away like a floating weed
if the current were to beckon

With songs and honors sounding loud,
Address the Lord on high;
Over the heav'ns He spreads His clouds,
And waters veil the sky.
He sends His show'rs of blessings down
To cheer the plains below;
He makes the grass the mountains crown
And corn in valleys grow.

With its cloud of skirmishers in advance,
With now the sound of a single shot snapping like a whip, and now an irregular volley,
The swarming ranks press on and on, the dense brigades press on;
Glittering dimly, toiling under the sun--the dust-cover'd men,
In columns rise and fall to the undulations of the ground,
With artillery interspers'd--the wheels rumble, the horses sweat,
As the army corps advances.

I pity those rice stalks
blasted by the autumn wind,
fruitless as this love of mine
you've grown tired of

With death doom'd to grapple,
Beneath this cold slab, he
Who lied in the Chapel
Now lies in the Abbey.

With blameless carriage I lived here
To th' (almost) seven and fortieth year.
Stout sons I had, and those twice three;
One only daughter lent to me,
The which was made a happy bride,
But thrice three moons before she died;
My modest wedlock, that was known
Contented with the bed of one.

The Window has Four little Panes:
—But One have I:
The Window-Panes are in its Sash,—
—I wonder why!

The wind it blew up the railroad track,
It blew, it blew,
The wind it blew up the railroad track,
It blew, it blew;
The wind it blew up the railroad track,
It blew way up and half way back,
And the wind it blew,
Holy Jiminy! how it blew!

The wife won—
and she never