Works

I come upon it suddenly, alone -
A little pathway winding in the weeds
That fringe the roadside; and with dreams my own,
I wander as it leads.

Full wistfully along the slender way,...

The afternoon of summer folds
Its warm arms round the marigolds,

And with its gleaming fingers, pets
The watered pinks and violets

That from the casement vases spill,...

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...

In words like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
- TENNYSON.
...

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...

Sometimes I think 'at Parents does
Things ist about as bad as us -


Wite 'fore our vurry eyes, at that!
Fer one time Pa he scold' my Ma
'Cause he can't find his hat;...

I woo'd a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind.
- TENNYSON.

"What may I do to make you glad,
To make you glad and free,
Till your light smiles glance...

While any day was notable and dear
That gave the children Noey, history here
Records his advent emphasized indeed
With sharp italics, as he came to feed
The stock one special morning, fair and bright,...

TO HOMER DAVENPORT

Wess he says, and sort o' grins,
"Art and Poetry is twins!

"Yit, if I'd my pick, I'd shake
Poetry, and no mistake!

"Pictures, allus, 'peared to me,...

A daring prince, of the realm Rangg Dhune,
Once went up in a big balloon

That caught and stuck on the horns of the moon,
And he hung up there till next day noon -...

Welladay!
Here I lay
You at rest - all worn away,
O my pencil, to the tip
Of our old companionship!

Memory
Sighs to see
What you are, and used to be,
Looking backward to the time...

Old friend of mine, whose chiming name
Has been the burthen of a rhyme
Within my heart since first I came
To know thee in thy mellow prime;
With warm emotions in my breast...

Donn Piatt - of Mac-o-chee, -
Not the one of History,
Who, with flaming tongue and pen,
Scathes the vanities of men;
Not the one whose biting wit
Cuts pretense and etches it...

A troth, and a grief, and a blessing,
Disguised them and came this way,
And one was a promise, and one was a doubt,
And one was a rainy day.

And they met betimes with this maiden,...

If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of raindrops turned to snow,...

I crave, dear Lord,
No boundless hoard
Of gold and gear,
Nor jewels fine,
Nor lands, nor kine,
Nor treasure-heaps of anything.
Let but a little hut be mine
Where at the hearthstone I may hear...

Picnics is fun 'at's purty hard to beat.
I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than eat.
I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than go
With our Charlotty to the Trick-Dog Show.

I can't extend to every friend
In need a helping hand -
No matter though I wish it so,
'Tis not as Fortune planned;
But haply may I fancy they
Are men of different stripe...