I have sipped, with drooping lashes, Dreamy draughts of Verzenay; I have flourished brandy-smashes In the wildest sort of way; I have joked with "Tom and Jerry" Till wee hours ayont the twal' -...
I' got no patience with blues at all! And I ust to kindo talk Aginst 'em, and claim, 'tel along last Fall, They was none in the fambly stock; But a nephew of mine, from Eelinoy,...
Mellow hazes, lowly trailing Over wood and meadow, veiling Somber skies, with wildfowl sailing Sailor-like to foreign lands; And the north-wind overleaping Summer's brink, and floodlike sweeping...
Lying listless in the mosses Underneath a tree that tosses Flakes of sunshine, and embosses Its green shadow with the snow - Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber Born of fancies without number -...
I caught but a glimpse of him. Summer was here. And I strayed from the town and its dust and heat. And walked in a wood, while the noon was near, Where the shadows were cool, and the atmosphere...
I caught but a glimpse of him. Summer was here, And I strayed from the town and its dust and heat And walked in a wood, while the noon was near, Where the shadows were cool, and the atmosphere...
It was a man of many parts, Who in his coffer mind Had stored the Classics and the Arts And Sciences combined; The purest gems of poesy Came flashing from his pen - The wholesome truths of History...
Scene. - A kitchen. - Group of Children, popping corn. - The Fairy Queen of the Seasons discovered in the smoke of the corn-popper. - Waving her wand, and, with eerie, sharp, imperious ejaculations, addressing the bespelled aud...
Hey, Old Midsummer! are you here again, With all your harvest-store of olden joys, - Vast overhanging meadow-lands of rain, And drowsy dawns, and noons when golden grain Nods in the sun, and lazy truant boys...
The ordered intermingling of the real and the dream,-- The mill above the river, and the mist above the stream; The life of ceaseless labor, brave with song and cheery call--...
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known, So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,...
"I have twankled the strings of the twinkering rain; I have burnished the meteor's mail; I have bridled the wind When he whinnied and whined With a bunch of stars tied to his tail;...
How tired I am! I sink down all alone Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo, Even as a child I hide my face and moan - A little girl that may no farther go; The path above me only seems to grow...
It's the curiousest thing in creation, Whenever I hear that old song "Do They Miss Me at Home," I'm so bothered, My life seems as short as it's long! - Fer ev'rything 'pears like adzackly...
Now, Tudens, you sit on this knee - and 'scuse It having no side-saddle on; - and, Jeems, You sit on this - and don't you wobble so And chug my old shins with your coppertoes; -...
A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly - sing it low - Sing it softly - like the lisping of the lips we used to know When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled...