Hi-spy
Strange that the city thoroughfare, Noisy and bustling all the day, Should with the night renounce its care, And lend itself to children’s play! Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys, And have
Ed
Ed was a man that played for keeps, ‘nd when he tuk the notion, You cudn’t stop him any more’n a dam ‘ud stop the ocean; For when he tackled to a thing ‘nd
Good-Children Street
There’s a dear little home in Good-Children street – My heart turneth fondly to-day Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet Make sweetest of music at play; Where the sunshine of love illumines
Horace and Lydia Reconciled
HORACE When you were mine in auld lang syne, And when none else your charms might ogle, I’ll not deny, Fair nymph, that I Was happier than a Persian mogul. LYDIA Before she came
Swing high and swing low
Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow – It’s off for a sailor thy father would go; And it’s here in the harbor, in sight of the sea, He hath left
Child and mother
O mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. We’ll walk in
The great journalist in spain
Good editor Dana God bless him, we say Will soon be afloat on the main, Will be steaming away Through the mist and the spray To the sensuous climate of Spain. Strange sights shall
With two spoons for two spoons
How trifling shall these gifts appear Among the splendid many That loving friends now send to cheer Harvey and Ellen Jenney. And yet these baubles symbolize A certain fond relation That well beseems, as
The three tailors
I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time, Three tailors tramped up to the inn Ingleheim, On the Rhine, lovely Rhine; They were broke, but the worst of it all, they
Twin idols
There are two phrases, you must know, So potent (yet so small) That wheresoe’er a man may go He needs none else at all; No servile guide to lead the way Nor lackey at
At the door
I thought myself indeed secure, So fast the door, so firm the lock; But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock. My heart were stone could it withstand The
Heine's "Widow or Daughter?"
Shall I woo the one or other? Both attract me more’s the pity! Pretty is the widowed mother, And the daughter, too, is pretty. When I see that maiden shrinking, By the gods I