A lilt and a swing, And a ditty to sing, Or ever the night grow old; The wine is within, And I’m sure t’were a sin

PHYLLIS, ah, Phyllis, my life… Few are my years, but my griefs ar… Ever to youth should each day be a… Warm wind and rose—breath and diam… Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is…

'Twas the apple that in Eden Caused our father’s primal fall; And the Trojan War, remember — 'Twas an apple caused it all. So for weeks I’ve hesitated,

MY cot was down by a cypress grov… And I sat by my window the whole… And heard well up from the deep da… A mocking—bird’s passionate song. And I thought of myself so sad an…

I Found you and I lost you, All on a gleaming day. The day was filled with sunshine, And the land was full of May. A golden bird was singing

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…

Ah me, it is cold and chill And the fire sobs low in the grate… While the wind rides by on the hil… And the logs crack sharp with hate… And she, she is cold and sad

'Tis an old deserted homestead On the outskirts of the town, Where the roof is all moss—covered… And the walls are tumbling down; But around that little cottage

How’s a man to write a sonnet, can… How’s he going to weave the dim, p… When a—toddling on the floor Is the muse he must adore, And this muse he loves, not wisely…

Oh, awful Power whose works repel The marvel of the earth’s designs,… I 'll hie me otherwhere to dwell, Arcadia has trolley lines.

VILLAIN shows his indiscretion, Villain’s partner makes confession… Juvenile, with golden tresses, Finds her pa and dons long dresses… Scapegrace comes home money—laden,

LET me close the eyes of my soul That I may not see What stands between thee and me. Let me shut the ears of my heart That I may not hear

De win’ is hollahin’ 'Daih you’ t… De snow’s a—sayin’ 'Got you’ to d… Fu’ de wintah weathah 's come wido… An’ he 's laughin’ in his sleeve a… Fu’ dey ain’t nobody ready wid dey…

When I come in f’om de co’n—fiel’… It 's amazin’ nice to fin’ my supp… An’ it 's nice to smell de coffee… An’ it 's fine to see de meat a—si… But when suppah—time is ovah, an’…

Whose little lady is you, chile, Whose little gal is you? What’s de use o’ kiver’n up yo’ fa… Chile, dat ain’t de way to do. Lemme see yo’ little eyes,