When Willie was a little boy, No more than five or six, Right constantly he did annoy His mother with his tricks. Yet not a picayune cared I

Us two wuz boys when we fell out,— Nigh to the age uv my youngest now… Don’t rec’lect what’t wuz about, Some small deeff’rence, I’ll allo… Lived next neighbors twenty years,

I’m a beautiful red, red drum, And I train with the soldier boys… As up the street we come, Wonderful is our noise! There’s Tom, and Jim, and Phil,

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When birds are on the wing, When bee and bud and babbling floo… Bespeak the birth of spring, Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart

There, there, poor dog, my faithfu… Pay you no heed unto my sorrow: But feast to-day while yet you may… Who knows but we shall starve to-m… “Give us a tune,” the foemen cried…

Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner her… Just as we used to, long ago. Playing so, we lovers two

Her nature is the sea’s, that smil… A radiant maiden in the moon’s sof… The unsuspecting seaman sets his s… Forgetful of the fury of her gales… To-morrow, mad with storms, the oc…

What perfumed, posie-dizened sirra… With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless… On the quiet? For whom do you bind up your tress…

I ‘m going to write a letter to ou… Out West last spring to practise… I ’ll tell him all the gossip I g… For he has n’t seen the home-folks… Most generally it ‘s Marthy does…

The Greeks had genius,—'t was a g… The Muse vouchsafed in glorious m… The boon of Fame they made their… And prized above all worldly treas… But _we_,—how do we train _our_ yo…

When I was broke in London in the… I chanced to spy in Oxford Street… ‘A Splendid Horace cheap for Cas… Upon the vaunted bargain, and it w… A finer one I ‘ve never seen, nor…

A tortuous double iron track; a st… A locomotive, tender, tanks; a coa… Some postal cars, and baggage, too… With buffers, duffers, switches, a… This is the Orient’s novel pride,…

TO MISS GRACE KING Down in the old French quarter, Just out of Rampart street, I wend my way At close of day

Fair is the castle up on the hill— Hushaby, sweet my own! The night is fair, and the waves a… And the wind is singing to you and… In this lowly home beside the sea—

The year has been a tedious one— A weary round of toil and sorrow, And, since it now at last is gone, We say farewell and hail the morro… Yet o’er the wreck which time has…