'Write me a rhyme of the present t… And the poet took his pen And wrote such lines as the miser… Hide in the hearts of men. He grew enthused, as the poets use…

O in the depths of midnight What fancies haunt the brain! When even the sigh of the sleeper Sounds like a sob of pain. A sense of awe and of wonder

Ho! it’s come, kids, come! 'With a bim! bam! bum! Here’s little Billy bangin’ on hi… He’s a-marchin’ round the room, With his feather-duster plume

There is a princess in the South About whose beauty rumors hum Like honey-bees about the mouth Of roses dewdrops falter from; And O her hair is like the fine

I’m thist a little cripple boy, an… An’ get a great big man at all!—'c… When I was thist a baby onc’t, I… An’ got 'The Curv’ture of the Sp… I never had no Mother nen—fer my…

Once, in a dream, I saw a man With haggard face and tangled hair… And eyes that nursed as wild a car… As gaunt Starvation ever can; And in his hand he held a wand

Of the North I wove a dream, All bespangled with the gleam Of the glancing wings of swallows Dipping ripples in a stream, That, like a tide of wine,

When chirping crickets fainter cry… And pale stars blossom in the sky, And twilight’s gloom has dimmed th… And blurred the butterfly: When locust-blossoms fleck the wal…

The ripest peach is highest on the… And so her love, beyond the reach… Is dearest in my sight. Sweet bre… Her heart down to me where I wors… She looms aloft where every eye ma…

Some sings of the lily, and daisy,… And the pansies and pinks that the… throws In the green grassy lap of the med… Blinkin’ up at the skyes through t…

Would that the winds might only bl… As they blew in the golden long ag… Laden with odors of Orient isles Where ever and ever the sunshine s… And the bright sands blend with th…

There was a cherry-tree. Its bloo… Cool even now the fevered sight th… No more its airy visions of pure j… As when you were a boy. There was a cherry-tree. The Blue…

A fantasy that came to me As wild and wantonly designed As ever any dream might be Unraveled from a madman’s mind,— A tangle-work of tissue, wrought

Sometimes I think 'at Parents doe… 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;

They all climbed up on a high boar… Nine little Goblins, with green-g… Nine little Goblins that had no s… And couldn’t tell coppers from col… And they all climbed up on the fen…