If Death should claim me for her own to-day, And softly I should falter from your side, Oh, tell me, loved one, would my memory stay, And would my image in your heart abide?...
Love hath the wings of the butterfly, Oh, clasp him but gently, Pausing and dipping and fluttering by Inconsequently. Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh; Love hath the wings of the butterfly....
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine And the summer days are in their bloom, Then my love is deepest, oh, dearest heart of mine, When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine. ...
Love is the light of the world, my dear, Heigho, but the world is gloomy; The light has failed and the lamp down hurled, Leaves only darkness to me. ...
Darling, my darling, my heart is on the wing, It flies to thee this morning like a bird, Like happy birds in springtime my spirits soar and sing, The same sweet song thine ears have often heard. ...
I don't believe in 'ristercrats An' never did, you see; The plain ol' homelike sorter folks Is good enough fur me. O' course, I don't desire a man To be too tarnal rough,...
W'en de clouds is hangin' heavy in de sky, An' de win's 's a-taihin' moughty vig'rous by, I don' go a-sighin' all erlong de way; I des' wo'k a-waitin' fu' de close o' day. ...
Ah, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away, While Night like a spirit steals up o'er the hills; The thrush from his tree where he chanted all day, No longer his music in ecstasy trills....
Not they who soar, but they who plod Their rugged way, unhelped, to God Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the sod....
The November sun invites me, And although the chill wind smites me, I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await; And with loud and joyful singing I will set the forest ringing,...
I sit upon the old sea wall, And watch the shimmering sea, Where soft and white the moonbeams fall, Till, in a fantasy, Some pure white maiden's funeral pall The strange light seems to me. ...
The rain streams down like harp-strings from the sky; The wind, that world-old harpist sitteth by; And ever as he sings his low refrain, He plays upon the harp-strings of the rain.
What if the wind do howl without, And turn the creaking weather-vane; What if the arrows of the rain Do beat against the window-pane? Art thou not armored strong and fast...
Why was it that the thunder voice of Fate Should call thee, studious, from the classic groves, Where calm-eyed Pallas with still footstep roves, And charge thee seek the turmoil of the state?...
Ain't it nice to have a mammy W'en you kin' o' tiahed out Wid a-playin' in de meddah, An' a-runnin' roun' about Till hit's made you mighty hongry, An' yo' nose hit gits to know...
She gave a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. I love her, she knows, And my action confessed it. She gave me a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it.
She told her beads with down-cast eyes, Within the ancient chapel dim; And ever as her fingers slim Slipt o'er th' insensate ivories, My rapt soul followed, spaniel-wise....
Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; I look far out into the pregnant night, Where I can hear a solemn booming gun And catch the gleaming of a random light,...
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah, Frost a-comin' in de night, Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin', Possum keepin' out o' sight. Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd, Nary step so proud ez his;...