'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…

Me an’ Bert an’ Minnie-Belle Knows a joke, an’ we won’t tell! No, we don’t—'cause we don’t know _Why_ we got to laughin’ so; But we got to laughin’ so,

Of all the doctors I could cite y… Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes’ t… Count in the Bethel Neighberhood,… And Sifers’ standin’s jes’ as goo… There’s old Doc Wick, and Glenn,…

Say farewell, and let me go; Shatter every vow! All the future can bestow Will be welcome now! And if this fair hand I touch

So lone I stood, the very trees s… In conference with themselves.—In… Seemed everything;—the summer sple… The sight,—magnificence! A babe’s life might not lighter fa…

Let us be thankful—not only becaus… Since last our universal thanks we… We have grown greater in the world… And fortune’s newer smiles surpass… But thankful for all things that c…

A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly—sing it low— Sing it softly—like the lisping of… When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled

I know all about the Sphinx— I know even what she thinks, Staring with her stony eyes Up forever at the skies. For last night I dreamed that she

Time is so long when a man is dead… Some one sews; and the room is mad… Very clean; and the light is shed Soft through the window-shade. Yesterday I thought: ‘I know

When we hear Uncle Sidney tell About the long-ago An’ old, old friends he loved so w… When _he_ was young—My-oh!— Us childern all wish _we’d 'a’_ bi…

Take a feller 'at’s sick and laid… All shaky, and ga’nted, and pore— Jes all so knocked out he can’t ha… With a stiff upper-lip any more; Shet him up all alone in the gloom…

The old days—the far days— The overdear and fair!— The old days—the lost days— How lovely they were! The old days of Morning,

In some strange place Of long-lost lands he finds her wa… Comes marveling upon it, unaware, Set moonwise in the midnight of he…

‘The voice of One hath spoken, And the bended reed is bruised— The golden bowl is broken, And the silver cord is loosed.’ Over the eyes of gladness

Herr Weiser—! Three-score-years-a… A hale white rose of his country-m… Transplanted here in the Hoosier… And blossomy as his German home— As blossomy and as pure and sweet