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

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>)
The Steering Wheel + (<div class="poem"> <p>There is joy in a limited fast express,<br /> If a first class ticket you possess.<br /> But you'll better enjoy an evening meal,<br /> From holding a Six Studebaker wheel. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>There was only one thing more for Claire—to jump. And that meant death. </p> </div>)
Spring in California + (<div class="poem"> <p>There's a strident call in the Open Road<br /> Where the Spring's glad message lies,<br /> And the motor sings me a joyous song<br /> With a lilt of the azure skies. </p> </div>)
Quatrains + (<div class="poem"> <p>There's no haphazard in this world of ours.<br /> Cause and effect are grim, relentless powers.<br /> They rule the world. (A king was shot last night;<br /> Last night I held the joker and both bowers.) </p> </div>)
The Traffic of Life + (<div class="poem"> <p>There’s a pleasure here that our fathers knew<br /> At the pull of the dappled greys,<br /> Or the Roman lord with his Arab steed<br /> As he basked in the public gaze. </p> </div>)
The Traffic of Life + (<div class="poem"> <p>There’s a subtle lure in the summer air,<br /> Wherever the road may lead,<br /> And a power that throbs with the pulsing gears—<br /> What a joy in the Age of Speed! </p> </div>)
The Value of Thrift + (<div class="poem"> <p>There’s not a man who doesn’t know,<br /> To pay is better as you go.<br /> You'll find if you do not keep up,<br /> You'll be forever on the jump. </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>These men did not lament and say,<br /> No opportunities are there today,<br /> By grit and ambition, pluck and skill,<br /> They made opportunity through, "I Will." </p> </div>)
XXII + (<div class="poem"> <p>These were boon companions who devised the legends for our tombs, <br /> These who have betrayed us nicely while we took them to our rooms. </p> </div>)
Get there if you can and see the land you were once proud to own + (<div class="poem"> <p>These were boon companions who devised the legends for our tombs, <br /> These who have betrayed us nicely while we took them to our rooms. </p> </div>)
Sung by the Choir + (<div class="poem"> <p>They call this music very fine,<br /> Sung by the choir in perfect time,<br /> Here’s the music we prefer,<br /> A Studebaker engine’s purr. </p> </div>)
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>)