Mark Twain

O Lord, our father,
Our young patriots, idols of our hearts,
Go forth to battle - be Thou near them
With them, in spirit, we also go

And did young Stephen sicken, And did young Stephen die
And did the sad hearts thicken, And did the mourners cry
No; such was not the fate of Young Stephen Dowling Bots;
Though sad hearts round him thickened, 'Twas not from sickness...

Genius, like gold and precious stones, is chiefly prized because of its rarity
Geniuses are people who dash off weird, wild, incomprehensible poems with astonishing facility, and get booming drunk and sleep in the gutter
Genius elevates ...

Good-bye
a kind good-bye,
I bid you now, my friend,
And though 'tis sad to speak the word,

On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my
Far away to Albany

These annual bills
these annual bills
How many a song their discord
Of "truck" consumed, enjoyed, forgot,

The Bombola faints in the hot Bowral tree,
Where fierce Mullengudgery's smothering fires Far from the breezes of Coolgardie Burn ghastly and blue as the day expires;
And Murriwillumba complaineth in song For the garlanded bowers of Wooll...