Low hidden in among the forest tre… An artist’s tilted easel, ankle-de… In tousled ferns and mosses, and i… A fluffy water-spaniel, half aslee… Beside a sketch-book and a fallen…

O touch me with your hands— For pity’s sake! My brow throbs ever on with such a… As only your cool touch may take a… And so, I pray

Grand Haven is in Michigan, and i… Of as many rare attractions as our… The fine hotel, the landlord, and… And the dainty-neat completeness o… The touch on the piano in the parl…

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breez… With labored respiration, moves th… From distant reaches, till the gol… Break in crisp whispers at my feet… My book, neglected of an idle mind…

SONG [W.S.] With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho… O the shepherd lad He is ne’er so glad

A goddess, with a siren’s grace,— A sun-haired girl on a craggy plac… Above a bay where fish-boats lay Drifting about like birds of prey. Wrought was she of a painter’s dre…

I’ got no patience with blues at a… And I ust to kindo talk Aginst ‘em, and claim, ’tel along… They was none in the fambly stock; But a nephew of mine, from Eelino…

Had a hare-lip—Joney had: Spiled his looks, and Joney knowe… Fellers tried to bore him, bad— But ef ever he got mad, He kep’ still and never showed it.

Your hands– they are strangely fai… O Fair—for the jewels that sparkl… Fair– for the witchery of the spel… That ivory keys alone can tell; But when their delicate touches re…

A barefoot boy! I mark him at his… For May is here once more, and so… His dusty trousers, rolled half to… And his bare ankles grimy, too, as… Cross-hatchings of the nettle, in…

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 maple strews the embers of its… O’er the laggard swallows nestled… And the moody cricket falters in h… And the lid of night is falling o’… The lid of night is falling o’er t…

O heart of mine, we shouldn’t Worry so! What we’ve missed of calm we could… Have, you know! What we’ve met of stormy pain,

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

John McKeen, in his rusty dress, His loosened collar, and swarthy t… His face unshaven, and none the le… His hearty laugh and his wholesome… And the wealth of a workman’s vote…