The little toy dog is covered with… But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red… And his musket molds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog w…

Accept, dear girl, this little tok… And if between the lines you seek, You’ll find the love I’ve often s… The love my dying lips shall speak… Our little ones are making merry

Many a beauteous flower doth sprin… From the tears that flood my eyes, And the nightingale doth sing In the burthen of my sighs. If, O child, thou lovest me,

The hero of Affairs of love By far too numerous to be mentione… And scarred as I’m, It seemeth time

In Mrs. Potter’s latest play The costuming is fine; Her waist is made decollete— Her skirt is new design.

I’m a beautiful red, red drum, And I train with the soldier boys… As up the street we come, Wonderful is our noise! There’s Tom, and Jim, and Phil,

Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mounta… When the money flowed like likker,… When the nights wuz crisp ’nd balm… With the joints all throwed wide o… Oh, them times on Red Hoss Mount…

On afternoons, when baby boy has h… And sits, like any monarch on his… In some such wise my handkerchief… And cautiously and quietly I move… Then, with a cry, I suddenly expo…

In the market of Clare, so cheery… Of the shops and the booths of the… That I take a delight on a Saturd… In walking that way and in viewing… For it’s here that one sees all th…

Bambino in his cradle slept; And by his side his grandam grim Bent down and smiled upon the chil… And sung this lullaby to him,— This 'ninna and anninia’:

Prudence Mears hath an old blue p… Hid away in an oaken chest, And a Franklin platter of ancient… Beareth Amandy Baker’s crest; What times soever I’ve been their…

TO MISS GRACE KING Down in the old French quarter, Just out of Rampart street, I wend my way At close of day

(FOR THE FELLOWSHIP CLU Lyman and Frederick and Jim, one… Set out in a great big ship— Steamed to the ocean adown the bay Out of a New York slip.

Hush, bonnie, dinna greit; Moder will rocke her sweete,- Balow, my boy! When that his toile ben done, Daddie will come anone,-

Dear wife, last midnight, whilst… The tomes you so despise, A spectre rose beside the bed, And spake in this true wise: 'From Canaan’s beatific coast