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This page provides a simple browsing interface for finding entities described by a property and a named value. Other available search interfaces include the page property search, and the ask query builder.

List of results

Clean Curtains + (<div class="poem"> <p>One way was an oyster pail factory, one way they made candy, one way paper boxes, strawboard cartons. </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>Opportunities once flew thick and fast,<br /> In years far in the distant past,<br /> You'll know they are here today, instead,<br /> If you read the lives of men that are dead. </p> </div>)
Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide + (<div class="poem"> <p>Or even thought of standing there<br /> Until the January thaw<br /> Should take the polish off the crust.<br /> He bowed with grace to natural law, </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Or, in friendly fireside circle, sit and listen for the crash <br /> Meaning that the mob has realized something’s up, and start to smash; </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Or, in friendly fireside circle, sit and listen for the crash <br /> Meaning that the mob has realized something’s up, and start to smash; </p> </div>)
Indignation and Jubilation + (<div class="poem"> <p>Our friend, to us he did confide<br /> That motor cops would have to ride.<br /> No more hiding by the road,<br /> No more chance our friend to goad. </p> </div>)
Our Support + (<div class="poem"> <p>Our labor should always be well directed,<br /> No slighting for cause to be rejected.<br /> Genius may all great works begin,<br /> Labor’s the thing that makes them win. </p> </div>)
The Bridge: VII The Tunnel + (<div class="poem"> <p>Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes.<br /> This answer lives like verdigris, like hair<br /> Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone;<br /> And repetition freezes—“What </p> </div>)
In a Breath + (<div class="poem"> <p>Outside in the street is the murmur and singing of life in the sun—horses, motors, women trapsing along in flimsy clothes, play of sun-fire in their blood. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>Over the downs where feed the scattered sheep,<br /> Across the barren uplands, sere and brown,<br /> Through woodlands where the western shades lie deep,<br /> And so at last we turn again toward town. </p> </div>)
Spring in California + (<div class="poem"> <p>O’er the ribboned line of the Great Highway,<br /> Where the wildflower carpet's laid,<br /> Where the poppy opens her golden cup<br /> As a symbol of Spring arrayed. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE. COMPLIMENTS TO PLUCKY MRS. TRINKLE. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>PIKE'S PEAK CLIMB POSSIBLE FOR WE ARE AT THE SUMMIT. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>PIKES PEAK OR BUST . . . IN A BRUSH </p> </div>)
Automobiling in the West + (<div class="poem"> <p>Passed the night comfortably, and when the road was taken next morning (May 29) at 6 o'clock, the sun was shining and Mr. Gates predicted no rain for the day. </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Perfect pater. Marvellous mater. Knock the critic down who dares — <br /> Very well, believe it, copy; till your hair is white as theirs. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Perfect pater. Marvellous mater. Knock the critic down who dares — <br /> Very well, believe it, copy; till your hair is white as theirs. </p> </div>)
The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>Pictures of those long passed away,<br /> Hung on the walls and watched our play,<br /> They shared with us in all our glee,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Power-stations locked, deserted, since they drew the boiler fires; <br /> Pylons fallen or subsiding, trailing dead high-tension wires; </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Power-stations locked, deserted, since they drew the boiler fires; <br /> Pylons fallen or subsiding, trailing dead high-tension wires; </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>Read Abraham Lincoln, American,<br /> Enshrined in the heart of every man.<br /> He was born honest in humble obscurity,<br /> He made for himself his opportunity. </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>Read Horace Greeley, in poverty born,<br /> His name does history's page adorn,<br /> Benjamin Franklin's life and deeds,<br /> Give inspiration for youthful needs. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>Roaring up hills and winding through ravines,<br /> Gliding past meadows where the grass grows lush,<br /> How else can one grasp half so many scenes?<br /> So let us dawdle though we well might rush. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Run the whole night through in gumboots, stumble on and gasp for breath, <br /> Terrors drawing close and closer, winter landscape, fox’s death; </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Run the whole night through in gumboots, stumble on and gasp for breath, <br /> Terrors drawing close and closer, winter landscape, fox’s death; </p> </div>)

Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>SUNNY CALIFORNIA-THE END IN THE WEST </p> </div>)

XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Shut up talking, charming in the best suits to be had in town, <br /> Lecturing on navigation while the ship is going down. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Shut up talking, charming in the best suits to be had in town, <br /> Lecturing on navigation while the ship is going down. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>Singing and spinning with joy of power,<br /> Roaring up hills and winding through ravines<br /> Is surely to be happy for an hour;<br /> How else can one grasp half so many scenes? </p> </div>)
Washington Square + (<div class="poem"> <p>Sleep-walking city!<br /> Who are the wide-eyed prowlers in the night?<br /> What nightmare-ridden cars move through their own far thunder?<br /> What living death of the wind rises, crackling the drowsy twigs? </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Smokeless chimneys, damaged bridges, rotting wharves and choked canals, <br /> Tramlines buckled, smashed trucks lying on their side across the rails; </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Smokeless chimneys, damaged bridges, rotting wharves and choked canals, <br /> Tramlines buckled, smashed trucks lying on their side across the rails; </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>So Fred accepted Briscoe's proposition and persuaded me to go along as observer, wiring Briscoe to that effect. The answer was, </p> </div>)
Knutsford Park Races + (<div class="poem"> <p>Soldier ban', formed in a ring,<br /> Strike up "God save our king";<br /> Gub'nor come now by God's grace<br /> To de Knutsford Park big race:<br /> High faces among low faces<br /> At de Knutsford Park big races. </p> </div>)
The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>Some day again we will see the place,<br /> And, too, in our memory each one's face,<br /> In a Six Studebaker so easy and free,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
Who Lies? + (<div class="poem"> <p>Somebody croaked it can't be done,<br /> Service by night without the sun.<br /> Expenses great will bring you ruin,<br /> We heard them not with all their wooin'.<br /> We have done the thing that couldn't be done. </p> </div>)
Who Lies? + (<div class="poem"> <p>Somebody mocked it can't be done,<br /> Back with you name the cars that 'ave run.<br /> Your profits will in them surely go,<br /> The public be d—d so take them low.<br /> We have done the thing that couldn't be done. </p> </div>)
Who Lies? + (<div class="poem"> <p>Somebody said it can't be done,<br /> Salaries to all and commissions none.<br /> We smiled till tears were in our eyes,<br /> For can't is a word we do despise.<br /> We have done the thing that couldn't be done. </p> </div>)
Who Lies? + (<div class="poem"> <p>Somebody scoffed it can't be done,<br /> Seven per cent to every last one.<br /> No compound rate or broker's fee,<br /> Will send you sure into bankruptcy.<br /> We have done the thing that couldn't be done. </p> </div>)
Who Lies? + (<div class="poem"> <p>Somebody sneered it can't be done,<br /> Carry your paper for each mother's son.<br /> You can't collect, your loss run high,<br /> Let broker and banker cut the pie.<br /> We have done the thing that couldn't be done. </p> </div>)
Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide + (<div class="poem"> <p>Sometimes as an authority<br /> On motor-cars, I’m asked if I<br /> Should say our stock was petered out,<br /> And this is my sincere reply: </p> </div>)
Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide + (<div class="poem"> <p>Sometimes he came with arms outspread<br /> Like wings, revolving in the scene<br /> Upon his longer axis, and<br /> With no small dignity of mien. </p> </div>)
Sung by the Choir + (<div class="poem"> <p>Soprano had a holy time,<br /> The alto wasn’t far behind,<br /> Each had tried their vocal range,<br /> Still, from holy not a change. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Squeeze into the works through broken windows or through damp-sprung doors; <br /> See the rotted shafting, see holes gaping in the upper floors; </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Squeeze into the works through broken windows or through damp-sprung doors; <br /> See the rotted shafting, see holes gaping in the upper floors; </p> </div>)
Washington Square + (<div class="poem"> <p>Starless and still...<br /> Who stopped this heart?<br /> Who bound this city in a trance? </p> </div>)
The Poplar + (<div class="poem"> <p>Stir from your roots, walk, poplar!<br /> You are more beautiful than they are. </p> </div>)
As to Being Alone + (<div class="poem"> <p>Such the question, and this the answer: </p> </div>)
Florida Road Workers + (<div class="poem"> <p>Sure, <br /> A road helps everybody. <br /> Rich folks ride — <br /> And I get to see 'em ride. <br /> I ain't never seen nobody <br /> Ride so fine before. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>Taught us at the annual camps arranged by the big business men <br /> ‘Sunbathe, pretty till you’re twenty. You shall be our servants then.’ </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>Taught us at the annual camps arranged by the big business men <br /> ‘Sunbathe, pretty till you’re twenty. You shall be our servants then.’ </p> </div>)