THE sand—man he’s a jolly old fel… His face is kind and his voice is… But he makes your eyelids as heavy… And then you got to go off to bed; I don’t think I like the sand—man…

October is the treasurer of the ye… And all the months pay bounty to h… The fields and orchards still thei… And fill her brimming coffers more… But she, with youthful lavishness,

OH, dere’s lots o’ keer an’ troub… In dis world to swaller down; An’ ol’ Sorrer’s purty lively In her way o’ gittin’ roun’. Yet dere’s times when I furgit 'e…

'T is better to sit here beside th… Here on the spray—kissed beach, In silence, that between such frie… Is full of deepest speech.

Just whistle a bit, if the day be… And the sky be overcast: If mute be the voice of the piping… Why, pipe your own small blast. And it’s wonderful how o’er the gr…

Who say my hea’t ain’t true to you… Dey bettah heish dey mouf. I knows I loves you thoo an’ thoo In watah time er drouf. I wush dese people 'd stop dey tal…

Lucy done gone back on me, Dat’s de way wif life. Evaht’ing was movin’ free, T’ought I had my wife. Den some dahky comes along,

De times is mighty stirrin’ ‘mong… Dey ’sputin’ an’ dey argyin’ an’ f… An’ all dis monst’ous trouble dat… Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was… She was de preachah’s favoured, an…

A life was mine full of the close… Of many—voiced affairs. The world… Behind me, ever rolled a pregnant… A present came equipped with lore… Art, science, letters, in their tu…

Summah 's nice, wif sun a—shinin’, Spring is good wif greens and gras… An’ dey 's some t’ings nice 'bout… Dough hit brings de freezin’ blas; But de time dat is de fines’,

Love me. I care not what the circ… To me may do. If, but in spite of time and tears… You prove but true. Love me—albeit grief shall dim min…

THE little bird sits in the nest… A shy, soft song to the morning li… And it flutters a little and prune… The song is halting and poor and b… And the fluttering wings scarce st…

VILLAIN shows his indiscretion, Villain’s partner makes confession… Juvenile, with golden tresses, Finds her pa and dons long dresses… Scapegrace comes home money—laden,

Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah, Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’; Jes’ 'bout fall—time o’ de yeah W’en de leaves is dry an brown; Tek a dog an’ tek a axe,

The November sun invites me, And although the chill wind smites… I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await; And with loud and joyful singing