The whispering water rocks the reeds, And, murmuring softly, laps the weeds; And nurses there the falsest bloom That ever wrought a lover's doom. Forget me not! Forget me not! Ah! would I could forget!...
When I go to tea with the little Smiths, there are eight of them there, but there's only one of me, Which makes it not so easy to have a fancy tea-party as if there were two or three....
Our home used to be in a hut in the dear old Camp, with lots of bands and trumpets and bugles and Dead Marches, and three times a day there was a gun,...
Some Homes are where flowers for ever blow, The sun shining hotly the whole year round; But our Home glistens with six months of snow, Where frost without wind heightens every sound....
Oh, happy Christmas, full of blessings, come! Now bid our discords cease; Here give the weary ease; Let the long-parted meet again in peace; Bring back the far-away;...
Long, long ago, with vows too much forgotten, The Cross of Christ was seal'd on every brow, Ah! slow of heart, that shun the Christian conflict; Rise up at last! The accepted time is now....
Hold my hand, little Sister, and nurse my head, whilst I try to remember the word, What was it?--that the doctor says is now fairly established both in me and my bird....
They've taken the cosy bed away That I made myself with the Shetland shawl, And set me a hamper of scratchy hay, By that great black stove in the entrance-hall. ...