#1916 #AHeapO'Livin' #EnglishWriters
I can’t help thinkin’ o’ the lad! Here’s summer bringin’ trees to fr… An’ every bush with roses clad, An’ nature in her finest suit, An’ all things as they used to be
AGE is calling to me, with his fi… It is urging me to wander down the… It has lined my cheeks with furrow… And is ever whispering to me that… But the heart of me keeps saying,…
It’s September, and the orchards… And the nights with dew are heavy,… Now the garden’s at its gayest wit… And the good old-fashioned asters… Once again in shoes and stockings…
He wears a long and solemn face And drives the children from his p… He doesn’t like to hear them shout Or race and run and romp about, And if they chance to climb his tr…
You may delve down to rock for you… You may go with your steel to the… You may purchase the best of the t… And the finest of workmanship buy. You may line with the rarest of ma…
OTHERS may laugh at my feeble e… To capture life’s prizes, and othe… The whole world may loudly declare… Be worthy the gunpowder to blow me… It may be I ‘m punk as a parlor r…
Men talk too much of gold and fame… And not enough about a name; And yet a good name’s better far Than all earth’s glistening jewels… Who holds his name above all price
I wonder have you ever known Or heard of such a thing As paperhangers in the house Who didn’t try to sing?
When a cake is nicely frosted and… And it looks as trim and proper as… Would it puzzle you at evening as… To find the chocolate missing from… As you viewed the cake in sorrow w…
A man must earn his hour of peace, Must pay for it with hours of stri… Must win by toil the evening’s swe… The rest that may be portioned for… The idler never knows it, never ca…
Search history, my boy, and see What petty selfishness has done. Find if you can one victory That little minds have ever won. There is no record there to read
The job will not make you, my boy; The job will not bring you to fame Or riches or honor or joy Or add any weight to your name. You may fail or succeed where you…
THE little old-fashioned church,… Where the sunbeams to worship came… And the choir was composed of the… The little old-fashioned church th… With its plain, wooden cross on th…
Some folks leave home for money And some leave home for fame, Some seek skies always sunny, And some depart in shame. I care not what the reason
We do not build our monuments in s… The records of our life aren’t cas… We are forgot, if when the spirit’… No human hearts our finger prints… If we have lived and died and left…