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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

The Mountains + (<div class="poem"> <p>They rise to proud and lofty height,<br /> Forbidding and dark are they at night.<br /> Their summits kiss the heavens high,<br /> They ever remind us God is nigh. </p> </div>)
Safety in Conversation + (<div class="poem"> <p>They talked of the weather careless and free,<br /> A topic on which they did all agree.<br /> When one would mention the income tax,<br /> It was an occasion to give it some whacks. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>They told us the road from Gal<i>ves</i>ton to Houston(Hewston)was good—none better. </p> </div>)
Safety in Conversation + (<div class="poem"> <p>Things they discussed to no one was vital,<br /> Subjects were chosen for safety of title<br /> Till they took up a question a million years old<br /> Of vital concern to every one’s soul. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>This last to Mr. Boltwood, who had stood up, swaying with the car, and struck at him. With a huge arm the man swept Mr. Boltwood back into the seat, but without a word to her father, he continued to Claire: </p> </div>)
Our Support + (<div class="poem"> <p>This rule is good for most every man,<br /> The more we do, the more we can.<br /> More busy we are, more leisure we have,<br /> For play to serve as our safety valve. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>This time Claire did not say "Yes!" She experimented with, "Yes, quite a ways." </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>This was a happy climax and far beyond our expectations, because we had thought of the trip only as an advertising stunt for the Brush factory and the Brush Runabout. </p> </div>)
The Old Homestead + (<div class="poem"> <p>Those hearts of the long ago we treasure,<br /> In the memory with unstinted measure,<br /> All gathered around that Christmas tree,<br /> Where the old homestead used to be. </p> </div>)
Cities + (<div class="poem"> <p>Though they sleep or wake to torment<br /> and wish to displace our old cells—<br /> thin rare gold—<br /> that their larve grow fat—<br /> is our task the less sweet? </p> </div>)
Cities + (<div class="poem"> <p>Though we wander about,<br /> find no honey of flowers in this waste,<br /> is our task the less sweet—<br /> who recall the old splendour,<br /> await the new beauty of cities? </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Through a tiny hole in the plate of the distributor he dripped two drops of oil—only two drops. "I guess maybe that's what it needed. You might try her now, and see how she runs," he said mildly. </p> </div>)
Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway + (<div class="poem"> <p>Through the clean aisles, between the green rows, run the channels for the precious water that has traveled from the mountains to the plains to turn tens of thousands of acres into a fair and fruitful garden. </p> </div>)
The Traffic of Life + (<div class="poem"> <p>Through the forest aisles to the silver sea,<br /> To the crest of the sun-kissed hills,<br /> As the motor sings on the Open Road<br /> And the heart of all nature thrills. </p> </div>)
Spring in California + (<div class="poem"> <p>Through the forests, born in an ancient day,<br /> With their banks of moss and bloom,<br /> And the bordered aisles of the canyons dim<br /> Where the giant Redwoods loom. </p> </div>)
Sung by the Choir + (<div class="poem"> <p>Through this anthem that we heard,<br /> But holy not another word,<br /> The song was just a lavish noise,<br /> To fill you with a lot of joys. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Thus Claire Boltwood's first voyage into democracy. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Thus Claire's second voyage into democracy. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>To all motorists who become "boaged," I beg to recommend the mud-hole of my friends, Mr. Poole and Mr. Sinclair, of Lissie, Texas. </p> </div>)
Where Happiness Lies + (<div class="poem"> <p>To man his married life’s a boon,<br /> If it is sweet and right in tune.<br /> But fights and scraps and family jars,<br /> Are worse than some old motor cars. </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>To the White House and the President's chair,<br /> No American boy need have despair,<br /> There is nothing a boy can't overcome,<br /> With talent and energy making the run. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>Toby, chatting about aviation with the man on her running-board, was completely taken by surprise to hear "Ah'm sahry, lady, but we'll jest have to ask you-all to come along with us." </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>Today is the golden day of days,<br /> Opportunity all around you plays,<br /> Much depends that you keep on a-trying,<br /> If you climb like Studebakers people are buying. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Two men waved at him, and one demanded, "Say, Milt, is whisky good for the toothache? What d' you think! The doc said it didn't do any good. But then, gosh, he's only just out of college." </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Two stores farther on, a bulky farmer hailed, "Say, Milt, should I get an ensilage cutter yet?" </p> </div>)

On The Road to Nowhere + (<div class="poem"> <p>Upon Returning to the Country Road </p> </div>)

Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Usually, too, her passengers waited for her to start the conversation, and talked at Mr. Boltwood rather than directly to her. But the bristly man spat at her as the car started, "Going far?" </p> </div>)
R.V. and Another + (<div class="poem"> <p>Vagabonds of beauty,<br /> Wistful, exquisite waifs<br /> From a lost, and a forgotten, and a lovely land,<br /> We cannot comfort you<br /> Though our souls yearn for you. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>WESTWARD PIONEERS-A BRUSH AND THE TRINKLES </p> </div>)
Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide + (<div class="poem"> <p>Walls were all buried, trees were few:<br /> He saw no stay unless he stove<br /> A hole in somewhere with his heel.<br /> But though repeatedly he strove </p> </div>)
Rabbit Elusiveness + (<div class="poem"> <p>We bough … <div class="poem"></br><p>We bought up all the lumber in Curran’s lumber yard,<br /></br>Built a thousand hutches, for cost had no regard.<br /></br>Faithfully with many tools we labored every day,<br /></br>Fully settled in our mind we’d make the rabbits pay.</br></p></br></div>r /> Fully settled in our mind we’d make the rabbits pay. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We decided they thought our car would get stuck in the deep sand on the steep grade and they would have some fun pulling us out, but the car had crawled along slowly and steadily, spoiling their fun. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We did not try to make fast time, because safety was our first thought. Fred went over the car carefully each morning before starting. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>We drive until the evening wind blows drear;<br /> I long for such a day to come once more.<br /> The roar of traffic beats upon the ear,<br /> I part with romance at the city’s door. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>We followed his gesture wonderingly toward the lonely cluster of houses, a warehouse, a store, an ex-saloon with the sign badly painted out, and "refreshments" painted in, and the usual group of busy loafers at the store. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We heard there were three feet of snow in Weber Canyon, which we had just come through, and were most thankful we had wasted no time on the way. </p> </div>)
The Road to Glory + (<div class="poem"> <p>We know a good old Missouri town,<br /> Where "niggers" a-plenty live all around.<br /> On a little hill down near the mill,<br /> The "nigger" church is standing still. </p> </div>)
Chaplinesque + (<div class="poem"> <p>We make our meek adjustments,<br /> Contented with such random consolations<br /> As the wind deposits<br /> In slithered and too ample pockets. </p> </div>)
Man's Idiosyncrasy + (<div class="poem"> <p>We now relate this sorry fact,<br /> He’s been a month upon his back,<br /> On both his cheeks he’ll have a scar,<br /> He stepped in front of a motor car. </p> </div>)
Kisses by the Roadside + (<div class="poem"> <p>We saw them by our headlight's glare,<br /> Through their windshield sitting there,<br /> Oblivious to the world around,<br /> They kissed and made but little sound. </p> </div>)
Washington Square + (<div class="poem"> <p>We sleep in the eternal arms of night:<br /> We give ourselves, in the heart of peril,<br /> To sheer unconsciousness:<br /> Silently sliding through space, the huge globe turns. </p> </div>)
Dawn + (<div class="poem"> <p>We trudge along wearily,<br /> Heavy with lack of sleep,<br /> Spiritless, yet with pretence of gaiety. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>We waited hopefully. But again he bit it off. </p> </div>)
Automobiling in the West + (<div class="poem"> <p>We walked back to Summit Station and stayed at the hotel that night. Next morning, aided by some kindly disposed railroad men who could handle shovels most effectively, the machine was dislodged. </p> </div>)
Chaplinesque + (<div class="poem"> <p>We will sidestep, and to the final smirk<br /> Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb<br /> That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,<br /> Facing the dull squint with what innocence<br /> And what surprise! </p> </div>)
Our California + (<div class="poem"> <p>We wrote him, "We can tell no more,<br /> But when you reach this western shore,<br /> Studebakers you'll see them everywhere."<br /> Then, he said, "Heaven is there." </p> </div>)
Our California + (<div class="poem"> <p>We wrote to a friend back east one day,<br /> And told him all we thought to say.<br /> We filled a dozen pages or more,<br /> Of the glories of this far western shore. </p> </div>)
The Steering Wheel + (<div class="poem"> <p>We'll warrant your mind will quickly fill<br /> With thoughts for a Six so full of thrill.<br /> To drive the ideal Six Automobile,<br /> Get back of a Six Studebaker wheel. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>When he was caught, when Claire informed him that he "mustn't worry about her"; when, slowly, he understood that she wasn't being neighborly and interested in his making time, he wanted to escape, never to see her again. </p> </div>)
Where Happiness Lies + (<div class="poem"> <p>When man does choose his mate for life,<br /> He would avoid so much of strife,<br /> If he would use his common sense,<br /> And not so often be so dense. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>When she had gaily marched him downstairs, she suddenly and unhappily remembered the people she would have to face, the gibing questions she would have to answer. </p> </div>)