#Americans
I’d like a stocking made for a gia… And a meeting house full of toys, Then I’d go out in a happy hunt For the poor little girls and boys… Up the street and down the street,
See, Thaliarch mine, how, white w… Soracte mocks the sullen sky; How, groaning loud, the woods are… And chained with frost the rivers… Pile, pile the logs upon the heart…
Sleep, little pigeon, and fold you… Little blue pigeon with velvet eye… Sleep to the singing of mother-bir… Swinging the nest where her little… Away out yonder I see a star,—
If our own life is the life of a f… (And that’s what some sages are th… We should moisten the bud with a h… And 'twill bloom all the sweeter— Yes, life’s the completer
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray; For though you pine your life away With dull complaining breath, Or speed with song and wine each d… Still, still your doom is death.
Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner her… Just as we used to, long ago. Playing so, we lovers two
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill With his bonnie wife an’ his littl… 'T wuz “Blow, ye winds, as blow y… Naught we reck of your cold and no… For happy and warm were he an’ his…
Since Chloe is so monstrous fair, With such an eye and such an air, What wonder that the world complai… When she each am’rous suit disdain… Close to her mother’s side she cli…
(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.
Sweet, bide with me and let my lov… Be an enduring tether; Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, But let us dwell together. You’ve come each morn to sip the s…
Last night, whiles that the curfew… I heard a moder to her dearie sing… “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby.” And presently that chylde did ceas… And on his moder’s breast did fall…
Come, Phyllis, I’ve a cask of win… That fairly reeks with precious ju… And in your tresses you shall twin… The loveliest flowers this vale pr… My cottage wears a gracious smile,…
Up yonder in Buena Park There is a famous spot, In legend and in history Yclept the Waller Lot. There children play in daytime
All day long they come and go— Pittypat and Tippytoe; Footprints up and down the hall, Playthings scattered on the floor, Finger-marks along the wall,
The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet… To my dear little boy at play - Merrily singeth all day long, As it spinneth and spinneth away. And my dear little boy