A was an elegant Ape Who tied up his ears with red tape… And wore a long veil Half revealing his tail Which was trimmed with jet bugles…

'Write me a rhyme of the present t… And the poet took his pen And wrote such lines as the miser… Hide in the hearts of men. He grew enthused, as the poets use…

Only a dream! Her head is bent Over the keys of the instrument, While her trembling fingers go ast… In the foolish tune she tries to p…

The landscape, like the awed face… Grew curiously blurred; a hush of… Fell on the fields, and in the dar… The zephyr held its breath. No wavering glamour-work of light…

_You who to the rounded prime_ _Of a life of toil and stress_, _Still have kept the morning-time_ _Of glad youth in heart and spirit… _So your laugh, as children hear i…

Where do you go when you go to sle… Little Boy! Little Boy! where? ‘Way—’way in where’s Little Bo-P… And Little Boy Blue, and the Cow… A-wandering ‘way in there;—in ther…

They called him Mr. What’s-his-na… From where he was, or why he came, Or when, or what he found to do, Nobody in the city knew. He lived, it seemed, shut up alone

The old sea captain has sailed the… So long, that the waves at mirth, Or the waves gone wild, and the cr… Were as near playmates from birth: He has loved both the storm and th…

DEAD! my wayward boy—_my own_— Not _the Law’s!_ but _mine_—the g… God’s free gift to me alone, Sanctified by motherhood. ‘Bad,’ you say: Well, who is not?

Owned a pair o’ skates onc’t.—Tra… Fer ‘em,—stropped ’em on and waded Up and down the crick, a-waitin’ Tel she’d freeze up fit fer skatin… Mildest winter I remember—

He leant against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were… He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put

Our three cats is Maltese cats, An’ they’s two that’s white,— An’ bofe of 'em’s _deef_—an’ that’… 'Cause their _eyes_ ain’t right.— Uncle say that _Huxley_ say

Oh! the old swimmin’-hole! whare t… Looked like a baby-river that was… And the gurgle of the worter round… Sounded like the laugh of somethin… Before we could remember anything…

An afternoon as ripe with heat As might the golden pippin be With mellowness if at my feet It dropped now from the apple-tree My hammock swings in lazily.

The Hired Man Talks There’s old man Willards; an’ his… An’ Marg’et—S’repty’s sister—; an… There’s me—an’ I’m the hired man; An’ Tomps McClure, you better ye…