There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
  Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
  And when she was bad she was horrid.

One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
  ...

There was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
  When they said. “Are you friz?”
  He replied, “Yes, I is—
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec.”

( A Émile Le Brun)

"Angels" ! seul coin luisant dans ce Londres du soir,
Où flambe un peu de gaz et jase quelque foule,
C'est drôle que, semblable à tel très dur espoir,
Tout souvenir m'obsède et puissamment enroule
Autour de mon esprit un regret rouge et noir :...