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Epigrams

SIR, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool,

But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.

1917

Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834]

DAMIS, an author cold and weak,

Thinks as a critic he's divine;
Likely enough; we often make
Good vinegar of sorry wine.

Unknown

SWANS sing before they die-'twere no bad thing

Did certain persons die before they sing.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834]

He who in his pocket hath no money

Should, in his mouth, be never without honey.

NOBLES and heralds, by your leave,

Unknown

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,

The son of Adam and of Eve;

Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?

Matthew Prior [1664-1721]

HERE lie I, Martin Elginbrodde;

Hae mercy o' my soul, Lord God,

As I wad do were I Lord God,

And ye were Martin Elginbrodde.

George Macdonald [1824-1905]

WHO killed Kildare? Who dared Kildare to kill?

Death killed Kildare-who dare kill whom he will. Jonathan Swift [1667-1745]

WITH death doomed to grapple,

Beneath the cold slab he

Who lied in the chapel

Now lies in the abbey.

Byron's epitaph for Pitt

WHEN doctrines meet with general approbation,

It is not heresy, but reformation.

David Garrick (1717–1779]

TREASON doth never prosper; what's the reason?
Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.

John Harington [1561-1612]

GOD bless the King-I mean the faith's defender!
God bless (no harm in blessing!) the Pretender!
But who pretender is, or who is King-

God bless us all!—that's quite another thing.

John Byrom [1692-1763]

"TIs highly rational, we can't dispute,

The Love, being naked, should promote a suit:
But doth not oddity to him attach

Whose fire's so oft extinguished by a match?

Richard Garnett [1835-1906]

"COME, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake.—

It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife.""Why, so it is, father, whose wife shall I take?" Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

WHEN Eve upon the first of men

The apple pressed with specious cant,

O, what a thousand pities then

That Adam was not Adam-ant!

Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

WHILST Adam slept, Eve from his side arose:
Strange! his first sleep should be his last repose!

Unknown

"WHAT? rise again with all one's bones,"
Quoth Giles, "I hope you fib:

I trusted, when I went to Heaven,

To go without my rib."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834]

General Summary

HERE lies my wife: here let her lie!

Now she's at rest, and so am I.

1919

John Dryden [1631-1700]

AFTER Such years of dissension and strife,
Some wonder that Peter should weep for his wife;
But his tears on her grave are nothing surprising,-
He's laying her dust, for fear of its rising.

Thomas Hood [1799-1845]

WRITTEN ON A LOOKING-GLASS

I CHANGE, and so do women too;
But I reflect, which women never do.

AN EPITAPH

Unknown

A LOVELY young lady I mourn in my rhymes:
She was pleasant, good-natured, and civil sometimes.
Her figure was good: she had very fine eyes,

And her talk was a mixture of foolish and wise.
Her adorers were many, and one of them said,
"She waltzed rather well! It's a pity she's dead!"
George John Cayley [ ? ]

ON A HENPECKED SQUIRE

As father Adam first was fooled
(A case that's still too common),
Here lies a man a woman ruled,
The Devil ruled the woman.

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

GENERAL SUMMARY

WE are very slightly changed
From the semi-apes who ranged
India's prehistoric clay;
Whoso drew the longest bow,
Ran his brother down, you know,

As we run men down to-day.

"Dowb," the first of all his race, Met the Mammoth face to face On the lake or in the cave,

Stole the steadiest canoe,

Ate the quarry others slew,

Died-and took the finest grave.

When they scratched the reindeer-bone,
Someone made the sketch his own,

Filched it from the artist-then,

Even in those early days,

Won a simple Viceroy's praise

Through the toil of other men.

Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage,
Favoritism governed kissage,

Even as it does in this age.

Who shall doubt the secret hid

Under Cheops' pyramid

Was that the contractor did

Cheops out of several millions?

Or that Joseph's sudden rise

To Comptroller of Supplies

Was a fraud of monstrous size

On King Pharaoh's swart Civilians?

Thus, the artless songs I sing
Do not deal with anything

New or never said before.
As it was in the beginning,
Is to-day official sinning,

And shall be for evermore.
Rudyard Kipling [1865-

THE MIMICS

AN OMAR FOR LADIES

I

ONE for her Club and her own Latch-key fights,
Another wastes in Study her good Nights.

Ah, take the Clothes and let the Culture go, Nor heed the grumble of the Women's Rights!

-"Lo,

Look at the Shop-girl all about us--"
The Wages of a month," she says, "I blow

Into a Hat, and when my hair is waved, Doubtless my Friend will take me to the Show."

And she who saved her coin for Flannels red,
And she who caught Pneumonia instead,

Will both be Underground in Fifty Years,
And Prudence pays no Premium to the dead.

Th' exclusive Style you set your heart upon
Gets to the Bargain counters and anon,

Like monograms on a Saleslady's tie,
Cheers but a moment-soon for you 'tis gone.

Think, in the sad Four Hundred's gilded halls,
Whose endless Leisure ev'n themselves appalls,

How Ping-pong raged so high-then faded out To those far Suburbs that still chase its Balls.

They say Sixth Avenue and the Bowery keep : The dernier cri that once was far from cheap;

Green veils, one season chic-Department stores Mark down in vain-no profit shall they reap.

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