Caught Susanner whistlin’; well, It’s most nigh too good to tell. ‘Twould ’a’ b’en too good to see Ef it had n’t b’en fur me, Comin’ up so soft an’ sly

Pray why are you so bare, so bare, Oh, bough of the old oak—tree; And why, when I go through the sh… Runs a shudder over me? My leaves were green as the best,…

They please me not—these solemn so… That hint of sermons covered up. 'T is true the world should heed i… But in a poem let me sup, Not simples brewed to cure or ease

SWEETEST of the flowers a—bloo… In the fragrant vernal days Is the Lily of the Valley With its soft, retiring ways. Well, you chose this humble blosso…

Oh, summer has clothed the earth In a cloak from the loom of the su… And a mantle, too, of the skies’ s… And a belt where the rivers run. And now for the kiss of the wind,

A LITTLE bird, with plumage bro… Beside my window flutters down, A moment chirps its little strain, Then taps upon my window—pane, And chirps again, and hops along,

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…

Temples he built and palaces of ai… And, with the artist’s parent—prid… His fancy saw his vague ideals gro… Into creations marvellously fair; He set his foot upon Fame’s nethe…

AS a quiet little seedling Lay within its darksome bed, To itself it fell a—talking, And this is what it said: 'I am not so very robust,

GRASS commence a—comin’ Thoo de thawin’ groun’, Evah bird dat whistles Keepin’ noise erroun’; Cain’t sleep in de mo’nin’,

Ring out, ye bells! All Nature swells With gladness at the wondrous stor… The world was at lorn, But Christ is born

DONE are the toils and the weari… Done is the summons of bugle and d… Softly and sweetly the sky overarc… Shelt’ring a land where Rebellion… Dark were the days of the country’…

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…

‘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;

WHAT are the things that make li… A star gleam in the night. What hearts us for the coming fray… The dawn tints of the day. What helps to speed the weary mile…