When first of wise old Johnson ta… My youthful mind its homage brough… And made the pond’rous crusty sage The object of a noble rage. Nor did I think (How dense we are…

The word is writ that he who runs… What is the passing breath of eart… But to snatch glory from the hands… That is to be, to live, to strive… A poor Virginia cabin gave the se…

PLACE this bunch of mignonette In her cold, dead hand; When the golden sun is set, Where the poplars stand, Bury her from sun and day,

DEY had a gread big pahty down to… Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in m… All de folks f’om fou’ plantations… Dey come troopin’ thick ez chillun… Evahbody dressed deir fines’—Heis…

DEAR heart, good—night! Nay, list awhile that sweet voice… When the world is all so bright, And the sound of song sets the hea… Oh, love, it is not right—

GOOD hunting! —aye, good hunting… Wherever the forests call; But ever a heart beats hot with fe… And what of the birds that fall? Good hunting! —aye, good hunting,

Little Miss Margaret sits in a po… She and her Dolly have just falle… Dolly is gazing with sorest stare, Fitted dejectedly back in her chai… Angry at Margaret, tearful and gr…

STEP wid de banjo an’ glide wid… Dis ain’ no time fu’ to pottah an’… Fu’ Christmas is comin’, it’s rig… An’ dey’s houahs to dance 'fo’ de… What if de win’ is taihin’ an’ whi…

'Tis fine to play In the fragrant hay, And romp on the golden load; To ride old Jack To the barn and back,

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…

HE scribbles some in prose and ve… And now and then he prints it; He paints a little, —gathers some Of Nature’s gold and mints it. He plays a little, sings a song,

I has hyeahd o’ people dancin’ an’… An’ I ‘s been ’roun’ lots of otha… But of all de whistlin’ da’kies da… De whistlin’est I evah seed was o… In de kitchen er de stable, in de…

MY soul, lost in the music’s mist… Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amet… The cheerless streets grew summer… The Son of Phœbus spurred his ste… And, wand’ring down the mazy tune,

Our good knight, Ted, girds his b… (And he wields it well, I ween); He 's on his steed, and away has g… To the fight for king and queen. What tho’ no edge the broadsword h…