F. W. Hohenzollern

In things like this I've always tried
To look upon the Brighter Side;
And when I see the Prince, I say
"The Crown's worth something anyway."

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

The Peter Pan Alphabet

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

Medusa

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

A Thought

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

To Our Sweethearts

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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The Unicorn

The Unicorn 's a first-rate sort.
He helps the Lion to support
The royal arms of England's King
And keep the Throne from tottering.
I wonder what the King would do
If his supporters all withdrew?
Perhaps he'd try the Stage; a Throne
Should be an easy stepping-stone
To histrionic Heights, and who
Knows till he tries what he can do?
The King, with diligence and care,
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Oliver Herford

To Prince Edward Of York

    (On the Return of the "Ophir")

    Most well-behaved little Prince, -
    As the small boy
    Who will one day be the Sovereign Lord
    Of certain other small boys
    In whom I am interested
    I hasten to assure you
    Of my loyalty to the Imperial House
    Of which you are the joy and hope,
    And of my respect for your own podgy little person.
    To-day, I need scarcely tell you, my dear little Prince,
    Is a very big day for you,
    Inasmuch as
    To-day your excellent parents -
    Their Royal Highnesses
    The Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York, KG. -
    Return from their wanderings,
    Laden, I am given to understand,
    With presents for his Royal Highness
    Prince Edward of York,
    Who, I am ...

Thomas William Hodgson Crosland

King Goodheart.

There lived a King, as I've been told,
In the wonder-working days of old,
When hearts were twice as good as gold,
And twenty times as mellow.
Good temper triumphed in his face,
And in his heart he found a place
For all the erring human race
And every wretched fellow.
When he had Rhenish wine to drink
It made him very sad to think
That some, at junket or at jink,
Must be content with toddy.
He wished all men as rich as he
(And he was rich as rich could be),
So to the top of every tree
Promoted everybody.

Ambassadors cropped up like hay,
Prime Ministers and such as they
Grew like asparagus in May,
And Dukes were three a penny.
Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats.
And Bishops in their shovel hats
Were plentiful as tabby cats<...

William Schwenck Gilbert

From The Lord Of Potsdam

We, William, Kaiser, planted on Our throne
By heaven's grace, but chiefly by Our own,
Do deign to speak. Then let the earth be dumb,
And other nations cease their senseless hum!
    Seldom, if ever, does a chance arise
For Us to pose before Our people's eyes;
But this is one of them, this natal day
Whereon Our Ancient and Imperial sway,
Which to the battle's death-defying trump
Welded the States in one confounded lump,
(As many tasty meats are blent within
The German sausage's encircling skin)
By Our decree is twenty-five precisely,
And, under Us (and God) still doing nicely.
    Therefore ye Princelings, Plenipotentates,
And Representatives of various States,
A cool Imperial pint your Kaiser drains,
Both to Our 'more immediate' domains,
And to Our l...

Owen Seaman

Cromwell And The Crown.

("Ah! je le tiens enfin.")

[CROMWELL, Act II., October, 1827.]


THURLOW communicates the intention of Parliament to
offer CROMWELL the crown.

CROMWELL. And is it mine? And have my feet at length
Attained the summit of the rock i' the sand?

THURLOW. And yet, my lord, you have long reigned.

CROM.        Nay, nay!
Power I have 'joyed, in sooth, but not the name.
Thou smilest, Thurlow. Ah, thou little know'st
What hole it is Ambition digs i' th' heart
What end, most seeming empty, is the mark
For which we fret and toil and dare! How hard
With an unrounded fortune to sit down!
Then, what a lustre from most ancient times
Heaven has flung o'er the sacred head of kings!
King - Majesty - what names of power! No ki...

Victor-Marie Hugo

To Henry the Fifth

My youth was passing, Sire, whilst you among
The cradle-wrappings slept; my morning-song
Sung oer your pillow. Winds of heaven have thrown
Us both, since then, on heights apart and lone.
Heights! For misfortune drear, our destined land,
So thunder-scarred, a-nigh to heaven must stand!
The north and south are nearer than our ways
Are near to one another; and Fate lays
The purple round you, and has not withheld
Our Frances sceptre-dazzlements of eld.
I, crowned with silver hairs, say, praising you,
Well done! That man is to his manhood true
Who bravely, at his own behest, will do
High deeds of self -undoing; will forego
All, all, save immemorial Honour; though
She seem to earthlier eyes a phantom, more
Will follow her (as erst in Elsinore
One faithful h...

Mary Hannay Foott