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…

How breaks my heart to hear you sa… You feel the shadows fall about yo… The gods forefend That fate, O friend! I would not, I could not live wit…

I was just a little thing When a fairy came and kissed me; Floating in upon the light Of a haunted summer night, Lo, the fairies came to sing

Dear, noble friend! a virgin cask Of wine solicits your attention; And roses fair, to deck your hair, And things too numerous to mention… So tear yourself awhile away

Her nature is the sea’s, that smil… A radiant maiden in the moon’s sof… The unsuspecting seaman sets his s… Forgetful of the fury of her gales… To-morrow, mad with storms, the oc…

To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl… Strays o’er the meads where daisie… Or, ling’ring where the brooklets… Laves in the cool, refreshing flow… To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host

Prate, ye who will, of so-called c… The land of stoves and sunshine is… I’ve done the grand for fourteen m… And I’ve learned a heap of learni… And the biggest bit of wisdom I’v…

When I was a boy at college, Filling up with classic knowledge, Frequently I wondered why Old Professor Demas Bently Used to praise so eloquently

There is a certain Yankee phrase I always have revered, Yet, somehow, in these modern days… It’s almost disappeared; It was the usage years ago,

When baby wakes of mornings, Then it’s wake, ye people all! For another day Of song and play Has come at our darling’s call!

‘Sweetheart, take this,’ a soldier… 'And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne’er shall wed, But love can never die. Be steadfast in thy troth to me,

Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow - It’s off for a sailor thy father w… And it’s here in the harbor, in si… He hath left his wee babe with my…

Achievin’ sech distinction with hi… Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain… Our old friend Casey innovated so… In hopes he would ameliorate the s… 'Nd uv the many features Casey ma…

One asketh: “Tell me, Myrson, tell me true: What’s the season pleaseth you? Is it summer suits you best, When from harvest toil we rest?

To the willows of the brookside The mill wheel sings to-day— Sings and weeps, As the brooklet creeps Wondering on its way;