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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 689

Oliver Wendell Holmes. (1809–1894) (continued)
    And since, I never dare to write
  As funny as I can.
          The Height of the Ridiculous.
    Little I ask; my wants are few,
  I only want a hut of stone,
(A very plain brownstone will do,)
  That I may call my own. 1 
    When the last reader reads no more.
          The last Reader.
    The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
          Poetry, a Metrical Essay.
    And when you stick on conversation’s burrs,
Don’t strew your pathway with those dreadful urs.
          A rhymed Lesson. Urania.
    Wake in our breast the living fires,
The holy faith that warmed our sires;
Thy hand hath made our nation free;
To die for her is serving Thee.
          Army Hymn.
    Thine eye was on the censer,
  And not the hand that bore it.
          Lines by a Clerk.
    Where go the poet’s lines?
  Answer, ye evening tapers!
Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls,
  Speak from your folded papers!
          The Poet’s Lot.
    A few can touch the magic string,
  And noisy Fame is proud to win them;
Alas for those that never sing,
  But die with all their music in them!
          The Voiceless.
Note 1.
Goldsmith: The Hermit.
“Man wants but little here below

  Nor wants that little long”;
’T is not with me exactly so
  But ’t is so in the song. [back]