The Old Swimmin'-Hole
OH! the old swimmin’-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below Sounded like the
Granny
Granny’s come to our house, And ho! my lawzy-daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, And fetched a pie fer Nanny, And fetched a
A Life-Lesson
There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; But childish troubles will soon pass by. There!
Nine Little Goblins
THEY all climbed up on a high board-fence – Nine little Goblins, with green-glass eyes – Nine little Goblins that had no sense, And couldn’t tell coppers from cold mince pies; And they all
The Old Guitar
Neglected now is the old guitar And moldering into decay; Fretted with many a rift and scar That the dull dust hides away, While the spider spins a silver star In its silent lips
To a Boy Whistling
The smiling face of a happy boy With its enchanted key Is now unlocking in memory My store of heartiest joy. And my lost life again to-day, In pleasant colors all aglow, From rainbow
Who Bides His Time
Who bides his time, and day by day Faces defeat full patiently, And lifts a mirthful roundelay, However poor his fortunes be, He will not fail in any qualm Of poverty the paltry dime
A Noon Interval
A deep, delicious hush in earth and sky A gracious lull since, from its wakening, The morn has been a feverish, restless thing In which the pulse of Summer ran too high And riotous,
When the Frost is on the Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock, And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of
Unless
Who has not wanted, does not guess What plenty is. Who has not groped In depths of doubt and hopelessness, Has never truly hoped. Unless, sometimes, a shaow falls Upon his mirth, and veils
Wet-weather Talk
It hain’t no use to grumble and complane; It’s jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, W’y rain’s my choice. Men ginerly, to all intents
A Parting Guest
What delightful hosts are they Life and Love! Lingeringly I turn away, This late hour, yet glad enough They have not withheld from me Their high hospitality. So, with face lit with delight And
The Rapture of the Year
While skies glint bright with bluest light Through clouds that race o’er fields and town, And leaves go dancing left and right, And orchard apples tumble down; While school-girls sweet, in lane or street,
The Harper
Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the strings of his harp In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and drip! Ah! but the
A Poet's Wooing
I woo’d a woman once, But she was sharper than an eastern wind. Tennyson “What may I do to make you glad, To make you glad and free, Till your light smiles glance And