Society

There was a young person called Smarty,
Who sent out his cards for a party;
    So exclusive and few
    Were the friends that he knew
That no one was present but Smarty.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CLXXVIII. Songs.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. XXXIX. Literal

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. LXXI. Tales.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. DXCVII. Accumulative Stories.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Etiquet

There was a young man so benighted,
He never knew when he was slighted;
    He would go to a party,
    And eat just as hearty,
As if he'd been really invited.

Unknown

Mistaken Identity

There was a young fellow named Paul,
Who went to a fancy dress ball;
    They say, just for fun
    He dressed up like a bun,
And was "et" by a dog in the hall.

Unknown

In The Crowd

How happy they are, in all seeming,
    How gay, or how smilingly proud,
How brightly their faces are beaming,
    These people who make up the crowd!
How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
    How they look at each other and smile,
How they glow, and what bon mots they utter!
    But a strange thought has found me the while!

It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
    These people who now play a part,
All forced by some strange necromancy
    To speak, and to act, from the heart.
What a hush would come over the laughter!
    What a silence would fall on the mirth!
And then what a wail would sweep after,
    As the night-wind sweeps over the earth!

If the secrets held under and hidden
    In the intricate hearts of the crowd
Were su...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Lament

How she would have loved
A party to-day! -
Bright-hatted and gloved,
With table and tray
And chairs on the lawn
Her smiles would have shone
With welcomings . . . But
She is shut, she is shut
    From friendship's spell
    In the jailing shell
    Of her tiny cell.

Or she would have reigned
At a dinner to-night
With ardours unfeigned,
And a generous delight;
All in her abode
She'd have freely bestowed
On her guests . . . But alas,
She is shut under grass
    Where no cups flow,
    Powerless to know
    That it might be so.

And she would have sought
With a child's eager glance
The shy snowdrops brought
By the new year's advance,
And peered in the rime
Of Candlemas-time
For crocuses . . . c...

Thomas Hardy

In The Crowd.

How happy they are, in all seeming,
    How gay, or how smilingly proud,
How brightly their faces are beaming,
    These people who make up the crowd.
How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
    How they look at each other and smile,
How they glow, and what bon mots they utter!
    But a strange thought has found me the while!

It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
    These people who now play a part,
All forced by some strange necromancy
    To speak, and to act, from the heart.
What a hush would come over the laughter!
    What a silence would fall on the mirth!
And then what a wail would sweep after,
    As the night-wind sweeps over the earth.

If the secrets held under and hidden
    In the intricate hearts of the crowd,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Blunders

There was a young man from the city,
Who met what he thought was a kitty;
    He gave it a pat,
    And said, "Nice little cat!"
And they buried his clothes out of pity.

Unknown