On old Brandywine—about Where White’s Lots is now laid ou… And the old crick narries down To the ditch that splits the town—… Kingry’s Mill stood. Hardly see

Last Thanksgivin’-dinner we Et at Granny’s house, an’ she Had—ist like she alluz does— Most an’ best pies ever wuz. Canned _black_ burry-pie an’ _goos…

For the sake of guilty conscience,… time Of the clockworks of my nature, I… A weak and sinful creature, as reg… The last five years and better. I…

To all the little children:—The h… The sober and the silent ones; the… The good ones—Yes, the good ones,… Little Orphant Annie’s come to ou… An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up,…

When little Dickie Swope’s a man, He’s go’ to be a Sailor; An’ little Hamey Tincher, he’s A-go’ to be a Tailor: Bud Mitchell, he’s a-go’ to be

What intuition named thee?—Throug… Of the awed soul came the command… Into the mother-heart, foretelling… Should palpitate with his whose ra… Sing on while daisies bloom and la…

Years did I vainly seek the good… Prayed, fasted, and did penance di… Did kneel, with bleeding knees and… And mouth the dust, with ashes on… Yea, still with knotted scourge th…

O soul of mine, look out and see My bride, my bride that is to be! Reach out with mad, impatient hand… And draw aside futurity As one might draw a veil aside—

W’y, one time wuz a little-weenty… An’ she wuz named Red Riding Hoo… Her _Ma_ she maked a little red c… 'At turnt up over her head—An’ it… Ist one piece o’ red cardinal ‘at…

I quarrel not with destiny, But make the best of everything– The best is good enough for me. Leave discontent alone, and she Will shut her mouth and let you si…

Thou drowsy god, whose blurred eye… Muse on me—, drifting out upon thy… I lave my soul as in enchanted str… Where revelling satyrs pipe along… And tipsy with the melody they dri…

How tired I am! I sink down all a… Here by the wayside of the Presen… Even as a child I hide my face an… A little girl that may no farther… The path above me only seems to gr…

Neglected now is the old guitar And moldering into decay; Fretted with many a rift and scar That the dull dust hides away, While the spider spins a silver st…

I have sipped, with drooping lashe… Dreamy draughts of Verzenay; I have flourished brandy-smashes In the wildest sort of way; I have joked with 'Tom and Jerry’

‘How did you rest, last night?’— I’ve heard my gran’pap say Them words a thousand times—that’s… Jes them words thataway! As punctchul-like as morning dast