‘In the fight at Brandywine, Blac… a scythe, sweeps his way through t… '_Myths and Legends of Our Own L… Gray are the pages of record, Dim are the volumes of eld;

A song for the unsung heroes who r… When the life of the land was thre… For the men who came from the corn… Who rallied round when they heard… They laid them down in the valleys…

Dey 's a so’t o’ threatenin’ feeli… An’ I 's feelin’ kin’ o’ squeamis… I 's a—walkin’ 'roun’ a—lookin’ at… An’ a—measurin’ dey thickness an’… Fu’ dey 's somep’n mighty 'spiciou…

He was a poet who wrote clever ver… And folks said he had a fine poeti… But his father, a practical farmer… Of letting the strength of his arm… He called on his sweetheart each…

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,

UNDERNEATH the autumn sky, Haltingly, the lines go by. Ah, would steps were blithe and ga… As when first they marched away, Smile on lip and curl on brow,

BEYOND the years the answer lie… Beyond where brood the grieving sk… And Night drops tears. Where Faith rod—chastened smiles… And doff its fears,

There is a heaven, for ever, day b… The upward longing of my soul doth… There is a hell, I’m quite as sur… If there were not, where would my…

Who say my hea’t ain’t true to you… Dey bettah heish dey mouf. I knows I loves you thoo an’ thoo In watah time er drouf. I wush dese people 'd stop dey tal…

With sombre mien, the Evening gra… Comes nagging at the heels of Day… And driven faster and still faster Before the dusky—mantled Master, The light fades from her fearful e…

When de fiddle gits to singin’ out… An’ you 'mence to feel a ticklin’… Ef you t’ink you got 'uligion an’… You jes’ bettah tek a hint an’ git… Case de time is mighty temptin’ wh…

Lucy done gone back on me, Dat’s de way wif life. Evaht’ing was movin’ free, T’ought I had my wife. Den some dahky comes along,

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.

In the tents of Akbar Are dole and grief to—day, For the flower of all the Indies Has gone the silent way. In the tents of Akbar

W’EN de clouds is hangin’ heavy i… An’ de win’s 's a—taihin’ moughty… I don’ go a—sighin’ all erlong de… I des’ wo’k a—waitin’ fu’ de close… Case I knows w’en evenin’ draps h…