I have sipped, with drooping lashe… Dreamy draughts of Verzenay; I have flourished brandy-smashes In the wildest sort of way; I have joked with 'Tom and Jerry’

Take a feller 'at’s sick and laid… All shaky, and ga’nted, and pore— Jes all so knocked out he can’t ha… With a stiff upper-lip any more; Shet him up all alone in the gloom…

When we hear Uncle Sidney tell About the long-ago An’ old, old friends he loved so w… When _he_ was young—My-oh!— Us childern all wish _we’d 'a’_ bi…

It was just a very Merry fairy dream!— All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam; Crickets in the clover

Donn Piatt—of Mac-o-chee,— Not the one of History, Who, with flaming tongue and pen, Scathes the vanities of men; Not the one whose biting wit

‘The voice of One hath spoken, And the bended reed is bruised— The golden bowl is broken, And the silver cord is loosed.’ Over the eyes of gladness

I hold your trembling hand to-nigh… I may not know what wealth of blis… My heart is such a curious design Of trust and jealousy! Your eyes… So must I think they jewel some r…

I hain’t no hand at tellin’ tales, Er spinnin’ yarns, as the sailors… Someway o’ 'nother, language fails To slide fer me in the oily way That LAWYERS has; and I wisht…

‘Twas a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over ripe; And the brightest little twinkle

_(Grandfather, musing.)_ In childish days! O memory, You bring such curious things to m… Laughs to the lip—tears to the eye… In looking on the gifts that lie

What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'a… And ripples up my backbone tel I’… Kindo’ like that sweet-sick feelin… The first you ever swung in, with… Yer first picnic—yer first ice-cre…

A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly—sing it low— Sing it softly—like the lisping of… When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled

‘Hey, Bud! O Bud!’ rang out a gl… '_The Loehrs is come to your hous… But very much elated little chap, In snowy linen-suit and tasseled c… Leaped from the back-fence just ac…

An afternoon as ripe with heat As might the golden pippin be With mellowness if at my feet It dropped now from the apple-tree My hammock swings in lazily.

Who shall sing a simple ditty abou… Dainty-fine and delicate as any be… That dandles high the dainty bird… Tremulously tender song of greetin… Bravest, too, of all the trees!—no…