Being his mother—when he goes away I would not hold him overlong, and… Sometimes my yielding sight of him… So quick of tears, I joy he did n… To catch the faintest rumor of the…

On old Brandywine—about Where White’s Lots is now laid ou… And the old crick narries down To the ditch that splits the town—… Kingry’s Mill stood. Hardly see

Just drifting on together— He and I— As through the balmy weather Of July Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded

To hear her sing—to hear her sing— It is to hear the birds of Spring In dewy groves on blooming sprays Pour out their blithest roundelays… It is to hear the robin trill

A quite convincing axiom Is, 'Life is like a play’; For, turning back its pages some Few dog-eared years away, I find where I

Back from a two-years’ sentence! And though it had been ten, You think, I were scarred no deep… In the eyes of my fellow-men. ‘My fellow-men—?’ Sounds like a s…

All seemed delighted, though the e… Of course, than were the children.… Much interchange of mirthful compl… The story-teller said _his_ storie… (Like a bad candle) _best_ when th…

Written In Madison Caweln’s ‘Lyr… Herein are blown from out the Sou… Songs blithe as those of Pan’s pu… As sweet in voice as, in perfume, The night-breath of magnolia-bloom…

Bud, come here to your uncle a spe… And I’ll tell you something you m… For it’s a secret and shore-'nuf t… And maybe I oughtn’t to tell it t… But out in the garden, under the s…

There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I kno… And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago;

I’ve ben thinkin’ back, of late, S’prisin’!—And I’m here to state I’m suspicious it’s a sign Of _age_, maybe, or decline Of my faculties,—and yit

And there, in that ripe Summer-ni… A wintry coolness through the open… And window seemed to touch each gl… Refreshingly; and, for a fleeting… The quickened fancy, through the f…

Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and… path but as wild adventure led him… horse, and took off his saddle and… unlaced his helm, and ungirdled hi… his shield before the cross.—Age o…

‘O Printerman of sallow face, And look of absent guile, Is it the ’copy’ on your 'case’ That causes you to smile? Or is it some old treasure scrap