O her eyes are amber-fine— Dark and deep as wells of wine, While her smile is like the noon Splendor of a day of June. If she sorrow—lo! her face

The Crankadox leaned o’er the edg… And wistfully gazed on the sea Where the Gryxabodill madly whist… To the air of ‘Ti-fol-de-ding-dee… The quavering shriek of the Fly-u…

I got to thinkin’ of her—both her… And all her sisters married off, a… A-livin’ all alone there in that l… And him a blame old bachelor, conf… I’d knowed 'em all from childern,…

Let me come in where you sit weepi… Let me, who have not any child to… Weep with you for the little one w… I have known nothing of. The little arms that slowly, slowl…

The old days—the far days— The overdear and fair!— The old days—the lost days— How lovely they were! The old days of Morning,

When snow is here, and the trees l… And the knuckled twigs are gloved… When the breath congeals in the dr… And the old pathway to the barn is… When the rooster’s crow is sad to…

Of the North I wove a dream, All bespangled with the gleam Of the glancing wings of swallows Dipping ripples in a stream, That, like a tide of wine,

The maple strews the embers of its… O’er the laggard swallows nestled… And the moody cricket falters in h… And the lid of night is falling o’… The lid of night is falling o’er t…

I saw a man—and envied him beside— Because of this world’s goods he h… But even as I envied him, he died… And left me envious of him no more… I saw another man—and envied still…

Tommy’s alluz playin’ jokes, An’ actin’ up, an’ foolin’ folks; An’ wunst one time he creep In Pa’s big chair, he did, one ni… An’ squint an’ shut his eyes bofe…

O the old trundle-bed where I sle… What canopied king might not covet… The glory and peace of that slumbe… Like a long, gracious rest in the… The quaint, homely couch, hidden c…

Sence I tuk holt o’ Gibbses’ Chu… And be’n a-handlin’ the concern, I’ve travelled round the grand old… Of Indiany, lots, o’ late—! I’ve canvassed Crawferdsville and…

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breez… With labored respiration, moves th… From distant reaches, till the gol… Break in crisp whispers at my feet… My book, neglected of an idle mind…

Of all the doctors I could cite y… Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes’ t… Count in the Bethel Neighberhood,… And Sifers’ standin’s jes’ as goo… There’s old Doc Wick, and Glenn,…

A day of torpor in the sullen heat Of Summer’s passion: In the slugg… The panting cattle lave their lazy… With drowsy eyes, and dream. Long since the winds have died, an…