Gleanings from the Harvest-Fields of Literature: A Melange of Excerpta
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Gleanings from the Harvest-Fields of Literature: A Melange of Excerpta
Literary curiosa; Literature -- Dictionaries
Says Bill to Tom, the answer’s plain
To any mind that’s bright:
Because the imp of darkness, sir,
Can ne’er be _imp o’ light_.
A PRINTER’S EPITAPH.
Here lies a _form_—place no _imposing stone_
To mark the _head_, where weary it is lain;
’Tis _matter dead_!—its mission being done,
To be _distributed_ to dust again.
The _body’s_ but the _type_, at best, of man,
Whose _impress_ is the spirit’s deathless _page_;
_Worn out_, the _type_ is thrown to _pi_ again,
The _impression_ lives through an eternal age.
STICKY.
I want to seal a letter, Dick,
Some wax pray give to me.—
I have not got a single _stick_,
Or _whacks_ I’d give to thee.
WOMEN.
When Eve brought _woe_ to all mankind,
Old Adam called her _wo-man_;
But when she _woo’d_ with love so kind,
He then pronounced her _woo-man_.
But now with folly and with pride,
Their husbands’ pockets trimming,
The ladies are so full of _whims_,
The people call them _whim-men_.
BEN, THE SAILOR.
His _death_, which happened in his _berth_,
At forty odd befell:
They went and _told_ the sexton, and
The sexton _tolled_ the bell.—§Hood’s§ _Faithless Sally Brown_.
WHISKERS VERSUS RAZOR.
With whiskers thick upon my face
I went my fair to see;
She told me she could never love
A _bear-faced_ chap like me.
I shaved then clean, and called again,
And thought my troubles o’er;
She laughed outright, and said I was
More _bare-faced_ than before!
COMPLIMENT OF SHERIDAN TO MISS PAYNE.
’Tis true I am ill; but I cannot complain,
For he never knew pleasure who never knew Payne.
FROM DR. HOLMES’ “MODEST REQUEST.”
Thus great Achilles, who had shown his zeal
In §HEALING WOUNDS§, died of a §WOUNDED HEEL§;
Unhappy chief, who, when in childhood doused,
Had saved his §BACON§ had his feet been §SOUSED§!
Accursed heel, that killed a hero stout!
Oh, had your mother known that you were out,
Death had not entered at the trifling part
That still defies the small chirurgeon’s art
With corn and §BUNIONS§,—not the glorious §John§
Who wrote the book we all have pondered on,—
But other §BUNIONS§, bound in fleecy hose,
To “§Pilgrim’s Progress§” unrelenting foes!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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