human
Captain Hazard wins a bet, Or Beaulieu spoils a curry
gpt
Red Fisherman,
human
Once you come to Forty Year, or the lines on the Venice Love-lamp, or the
gpt
Cane-bottomed Chair ? Of living English writers of verse in the
human
as Cowper has it, I prefer Mr. Locker when he is tender and not untouched with melancholy, as in
gpt
The Portrait of a Lady, and Mr. Austin Dobson, when he is not flirting, but in earnest, as in the
human
Song of Four Seasons and
gpt
The Dead Letter. He has ingenuity, pathos, mastery of his art, and, though the least pedantic of poets, is
human
Heathen Chinee, as tender as the lay of the ship with its crew of children that slipped its moorings in the fog. To me it seems that Mr. Bret Harte's poems have never (at least in this country) been sufficiently esteemed. Mr. Lowell has written (
gpt
The Biglow Papers apart) but little in this vein. Mr. Wendell Holmes, your delightful godfather, Gifted, has written much with perhaps some loss from the very quantity. A little of _vers de societe_, my dear Gifted, goes a long way, as you will think, if ever you sit down steadily to read right through any collection of poems in this manner. So do not add too rapidly to your own store; let them be
human
Sir Charles Grandison,