Head-dibs

‘Twas gilbert. The kchesterton Did locke and bennett in the reed. All meredith was the nicholson, And harrison outqueed. Beware the see-enn-william, son, The londonjack with call that’s wild. Beware the gertroo datherton And richardwashburnchild. He took his brady blade in hand; Long time the partridge foe he sought. Then stood a time by the oppenheim In deep mcnaughton thought. In warwick deeping thought he stood– He poised on edithwharton brink; He cried, “Ohbernardshaw! I could If basilking would kink.” Rexbeach! rexbeach!–and each on each O. Henry’s mantles ferber fell. It was the same’s if henryjames Had wally eaton well. “And hast thou writ the greatest book! Come to thy birmingham, my boy! Oh, beresford way! Oh, holman day!” He kiplinged in his joy. ‘Twas gilbert. The kchesterton Did locke and bennett in the reed. All meredith was the nicholson, And harrison outqueed. – Harry Persons Taber, in Carolyn Wells, The Book of Humorous Verse ,

"A soldier of the Russians Lay japanned at Tschrtzvkjskivitch, There was lack of woman’s nursing And other comforts which Might add to his last moments And smooth the final way;– But a comrade stood beside him To hear what he might say. The japanned Russian faltered As he took that comrade’s hand, And he said: 'I never more shall see My own, my native land; Take a message and a token To some distant friends of mine For I was born at Smnlxzrskgqrxzski, Fair Smnlxzrskgqrxzski on the Irkztrvzkimnov.'” – W.J. Lampton

Columbia International University's Chancellor, Dr. George Murray , encourages with this timely and  insightful message from Joshua 6-8: " Don't Presume! Don't Despair! " Like to hike? Planning a trip to The Holy Land? You can help archeologists find more Sabbath markers ! A concise explaination of the Theology of Satan, Angels and Demons . Get out of your afternoon slump with three " Easy Afternoon Energizers ."

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrighten'd, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live.