Search by property

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

The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>The fires were burning the coals were glowing,<br /> From all of our hearts affection was flowing,<br /> In honor of Him was our Christmas tree,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
Kisses by the Roadside + (<div class="poem"> <p>The fragrancy of flowers of spring,<br /> While she to him did tightly cling,<br /> Came to us from the little Miss,<br /> Each time her lips he gave a kiss. </p> </div>)
Chaplinesque + (<div class="poem"> <p>The game enforces smirks; but we have seen<br /> The moon in lonely alleys make<br /> A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,<br /> And through all sound of gaiety and quest<br /> Have heard a kitten in the wilderness. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The garage attendant looked at her and yawned. </p> </div>)
Dawn + (<div class="poem"> <p>The grim dawn lightens thin bleak clouds;<br /> In the hills beyond the flooded meadows<br /> Lies death-pale, death-still mist. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The harness broke, with a flying mess of straps and rope, and the car plumped with perfect exactness back into its bed. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>The last night of the voyage, when the clear bright green of the Gulf of Mexico gave place to the turbulent coffee color of the Mississippi, our stewardess knocked. </p> </div>)
Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway + (<div class="poem"> <p>The lofty peaks of the Rockies have towered before us in a long, unbroken chain as we have looked at them from the alfalfa fields of Colorado. </p> </div>)
Clean Curtains + (<div class="poem"> <p>The look of their clean white curtains was the same as the rim of a nun's bonnet. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The man at the desk got in only one cynical question, "Driving far?" before Claire seized her father's arm and started him upstairs. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The man was storming—with a very meek ending: "I'm tellin' you! I can make money anywhere! I'm a crack machinist.... Give me two-bits for a meal, anyway." </p> </div>)
The Value of Thrift + (<div class="poem"> <p>The man who says no use at all,<br /> Because his pay is only small,<br /> Will say the same when multiplied,<br /> For saving he has never tried. </p> </div>)
Our Support + (<div class="poem"> <p>The mind of man has been so made,<br /> That happiness in him will quickly fade,<br /> If slothful habits he does acquire,<br /> And industry is not his chief desire. </p> </div>)
The Mountains + (<div class="poem"> <p>The mountains grim forever stand,<br /> While men will roam about the land.<br /> Men are fond of other men to greet,<br /> Mountains never have been known to meet. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>The night after the sale and delivery of the car, we were in a Pullman returning to Denver. We spent a day in Salt Lake City and reached home December 1, having been gone a little over two months. </p> </div>)
A Hundred Collars + (<div class="poem"> <p>The night clerk blinked his eyes and dared him on.<br /> “Who’s that man sleeping in the office chair?<br /> Has he had the refusal of my chance?” </p> </div>)
A Hundred Collars + (<div class="poem"> <p>The night clerk led him up three flights of stairs<br /> And down a narrow passage full of doors,<br /> At the last one of which he knocked and entered.<br /> “Lafe, here’s a fellow wants to share your room.” </p> </div>)
The Young Housewife + (<div class="poem"> <p>The noiseless wheels of my car<br /> rush with a crackling sound over<br /> dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>The old road had been abandoned for years, a cog road and burro trail having taken its place, and the present boulevard was not built until eight or nine years later. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>The open road’s a pleasure to the heart,<br /> When underneath the hood is sixty horse;<br /> I wait the moment when I may depart,<br /> To roll along the smooth and level course. </p> </div>)
The Poplar + (<div class="poem"> <p>The people pass through the dust<br /> On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars;<br /> The waggoners go by at dawn;<br /> The lovers walk on the grass path at night. </p> </div>)
The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>The place to us was one of splendor,<br /> And cherished yet in our memory tender,<br /> And the glory of that first Christmas tree,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
The Road to Glory + (<div class="poem"> <p>The preacher replied, "My siste' host,<br /> You's get on de side o' de Holy Ghost.<br /> He'll look down deep in yo' po' ol' heart,<br /> You'll sho' beat de dev'l if yo' do yo' part." </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The rainy road was bleakly empty without him. </p> </div>)
The Steering Wheel + (<div class="poem"> <p>The rushing of racing motor boats,<br /> Our mind no longer on them dotes.<br /> Flying through water has not the appeal,<br /> Of a Six Studebaker steering wheel. </p> </div>)

Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>The sheriff took my name and address. </p> </div>)

May Day + (<div class="poem"> <p>The shining line of motors,<br /> The swaying motor-bus,<br /> The prancing dancing horses<br /> Are passing by for us. </p> </div>)
The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>The smile and song and the merry laughter,<br /> That rang from the cellar clear to the rafter,<br /> Each loved one's face we yet can see,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
The Road to Glory + (<div class="poem"> <p>The snow outside the church was deep,<br /> Inside were shouts while some did weep.<br /> The preacher's voice above the din,<br /> Proclaimed to all their awful sin. </p> </div>)
May Day + (<div class="poem"> <p>The sunlight on the steeple,<br /> The toys we stop to see,<br /> The smiling passing people<br /> Are all for you and me. </p> </div>)
XI (The Right of Way) + (<div class="poem"> <p>The supreme importance<br /> of this nameless spectacle </p> </div>)
The Steering Wheel + (<div class="poem"> <p>The swift and silent pedal machine,<br /> We once considered no wise mean.<br /> O’er us its magic has ceased to steal,<br /> Since turning a Six Studebaker wheel. </p> </div>)
Sung by the Choir + (<div class="poem"> <p>The tenor holy, holy, holy, said,<br /> Until he seemed as nearly dead,<br /> Then holy, holy, sang the base,<br /> With holiness upon his face. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The tough was storming, "Your friend's a crack shot—with his mouth!" </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The tough's grip was torn from the steering wheel. He was yanked from the running-board. He crunched down on the road. </p> </div>)
Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway + (<div class="poem"> <p>The town of Palo Alto is a pretty little settlement, depending upon the University for its life. </p> </div>)
Indignation and Jubilation + (<div class="poem"> <p>The trap was some few hundred feet,<br /> The cop was on his motor, fleet.<br /> With watch in hand he felt so nifty<br /> And made our friend out doing fifty. </p> </div>)
On a Tree Fallen Across The Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>The tree the tempest with a crash of wood<br /> Throws down in front of us is not to bar<br /> Our passage to our journey's end for good,<br /> But just to ask us who we think we are </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The unwelcome guest looked puzzled. For the first time his china eyes ceased twinkling; and he answered dubiously: "Just gettin' a lift." He sped up the car with the hand-throttle. Milt accelerated equally. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The waiter-cook, whose apron was gravy-patterned, with a border and stomacher of plain gray dirt, grumbled, "Whadyuhwant?" </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The waitress repeated. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>The young man turned with vicious quickness, and for the first time Claire heard pidgin German—German as it is spoken between Americans who have never learned it, and Germans who have forgotten it: </p> </div>)
Kisses by the Roadside + (<div class="poem"> <p>Their kisses did not sound so loud,<br /> As thunder from the stormy cloud,<br /> But the echoes will much longer last,<br /> From those he planted hard and fast. </p> </div>)
The Young Housewife + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then again she comes to the curb<br /> to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands<br /> shy, uncorseted, tucking in<br /> stray ends of hair, and I compare her<br /> to a fallen leaf. </p> </div>)
The Spirit of Transportation + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then came the horse as the slave of man,<br /> Carriage and coach and four,<br /> And the years flashed by<br /> And the time was nigh,<br /> To reveal what the future bore. </p> </div>)
The Spirit of Transportation + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then came the quickening urge of Trade,<br /> Commerce must travel far,<br /> And my wings I gave<br /> To this earth-born slave<br /> With the joys of the motor car. </p> </div>)
Spring in California + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then o'er hill and dale to the realm of snow,<br /> To the mirrored lakes and rills,<br /> While the skylark's call from the meadows green<br /> Can be heard on a thousand hills. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then was the rough relieved in his uneasy tender little heart, and his eyes flickered again as he shouted back, not looking at Milt, "Thanks, bub, I'll stick by me friends." </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Then, while freedom and the distant Pacific seemed to rush at him over the hood, he whirled out of town. It was two minutes to one—forty-seven minutes since Claire Boltwood had entered Schoenstrom. </p> </div>)
The Poplar + (<div class="poem"> <p>There are beautiful beeches down beyond the hill.<br /> Will you always stand there shivering? </p> </div>)
Rabbit Elusiveness + (<div class="poem"> <p>There came to us a vision of life’s perpetual dream,<br /> We made our decision to follow up the gleam.<br /> We could build a fortune big and doubly sure,<br /> Raising market rabbits if the breed was pure. </p> </div>)