DAYS git wa’m and wa’mah, School gits mighty dull, Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs Mus’ feel mussiful. Hookey’s wrong, I know it

THE little bird sits in the nest… A shy, soft song to the morning li… And it flutters a little and prune… The song is halting and poor and b… And the fluttering wings scarce st…

I’VE always been a faithful man An’ tried to live for duty, But the stringent mode of life Has somewhat lost its beauty. The story of the generous bread

You bid me hold my peace And dry my fruitless tears, Forgetting that I bear A pain beyond my years. You say that I should smile

Not they who soar, but they who pl… Their rugged way, unhelped, to Go… Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the so…

SWING yo’ lady roun’ an’ roun’, Do de bes’ you know; Mek yo’ bow an’ p’omenade Up an’ down de flo’; Mek dat banjo hump huhse’f,

WHAT’S the use o’ folks a—frowni… When the way’s a little rough? Frowns lay out the road fur smilin… You’ll be wrinkled soon enough. What’s the use?

Say a mass for my soul’s repose, m… Say a mass for my soul’s repose,… Lovingly lived we, the sons of one… Mine was the sin, but I pray you… Dark were her eyes as the sloe and…

WHO dat knockin’ at de do’? Why, Ike Johnson, —yes, fu’ sho! Come in, Ike. I’s mighty glad You come down. I t’ought you’s mad

She sang, and I listened the whol… (It was sweet, so sweet, the singi… The stars were out and the moon it… From a wee soft glimmer way out in… To a bird thro’ the heavens wingin…

Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah, Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’; Jes’ 'bout fall—time o’ de yeah W’en de leaves is dry an brown; Tek a dog an’ tek a axe,

'T is better to sit here beside th… Here on the spray—kissed beach, In silence, that between such frie… Is full of deepest speech.

SINCE I left the city’s heat For this sylvan, cool retreat, High upon the hill—side here Where the air is clean and clear, I have lost the urban ways.

THE wind is out in its rage to—ni… And your father is far at sea. The rime on the window is hard and… But dear, you are near to me. Heave ho, weave low,

THOU art the soul of a summer’s… Thou art the breath of the rose. But the summer is fled And the rose is dead Where are they gone, who knows, wh…