To The Publisher

To The Publisher! - Drink!
Let his virtue be shown
In the Good Works of others
If not in his own.

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

John D. Rockefeller

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

Hafiz

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

The Pig-Pen.

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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To A Publisher

    My dear Sir, -
    In the whole round
    Of animated nature
    I am acquainted
    With nothing or nobody
    Who is, generally speaking,
    So gay, gaudy, and interesting
    As yourself.
    From my youth up
    I have been taught to look upon a publisher
    As a very great person indeed.
    When I was young and courted him
    He it was drew from me
    (As morn from Memnon)
    Rivers of melody;
    The which, however,
    He took good care
    Not to glorify with his imprimatur.
    In those days
    I looked upon publishing as a trade
    And poetry as a profession.
    Recently I have become wise,
    And I feel in the heart of me
    That publishing is a profession
    And poetry a trade.
    In spi...

Thomas William Hodgson Crosland

Literary Advertisement.

Wanted--Authors of all-work to job for the season,
    No matter which party, so faithful to neither;
Good hacks who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason.
    Can manage, like ******, to do without either.

If in jail, all the better for out-o'-door topics;
    Your jail is for travellers a charming retreat;
They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,
    And sail round the world at their ease in the Fleet.

For a dramatist too the most useful of schools--
    He can study high life in the King's Bench community;
Aristotle could scarce keep him more within rules,
    And of place he at least must adhere to the unity.

Any lady or gentleman, come to an age
    To have good "Reminiscences" (three-score or higher)
Will meet with e...

Thomas Moore

To Our Readers

Here's to our Readers, Health! good Looks!
And Joy ad infinitum
And may they live to read our Books
As long as we may write 'em.

Oliver Herford

To The Waiter

We drink your health, O Waiter!
And may you be preserved
From old age, gout, or sudden death!--
At least till supper's served.

Oliver Herford

Epilogue To 'The Good Natur'd Man'

As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure
To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure;
Thus on the stage, our play-wrights still depend
For Epilogues and Prologues on some friend,
Who knows each art of coaxing up the town,
And make full many a bitter pill go down.
Conscious of this, our bard has gone about,
And teas'd each rhyming friend to help him out.
'An Epilogue    things can't go on without it;
It could not fail, would you but set about it.'
'Young man,' cries one    a bard laid up in clover    
'Alas, young man, my writing days are over;
Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw; not I:
Your brother Doctor there, perhaps, may try.'
'What I? dear Sir,' the Doctor interposes
'What plant my thistle, Sir, among his roses!
No, no; I've other contests t...

Oliver Goldsmith

Shiver the Goblet.

Shiver the goblet and scatter the wine!
Tempt me no more with the sight!
I care not though brightly as ruby it shine,
Like a serpent I know it will bite.
Give me the clustering fruit of the vine, -
Heap up my dish if you will, -
But banish the poison that lurks in the wine,
That dulls reason and fetters the will.

Oft has it lured me to deeds I detest, -
Filled me with passions debased;
Robbed me of all that was dearest and best,
And left scars that can ne'er be effaced.
Oh! that the generous rich would but think,
As they scatter their wealth far and wide,
Of the evil that lives in the ocean of drink,
Of the thousands that sink in its tide.

They give of their substance to help the poor wretch,
The victim of custom and laws;
But never attem...

John Hartley