On old Brandywine—about Where White’s Lots is now laid ou… And the old crick narries down To the ditch that splits the town—… Kingry’s Mill stood. Hardly see

The audience entire seemed pleased… _Extremely_ pleased. And little M… From her task of instructing, ran… Her wondrous colored picture to an… Among the company.

In its color, shade and shine, ‘T was a summer warm as wine, With an effervescent flavoring of… And a fragrance and a taste Of ripe roses gone to waste,

Say farewell, and let me go; Shatter every vow! All the future can bestow Will be welcome now! And if this fair hand I touch

While _any_ day was notable and de… That gave the children Noey, hist… Records his advent emphasized inde… With sharp italics, as he came to… The stock one special morning, fai…

To William Morris Pierson [1868-1870] Of the wealth of facts and fancies That our memories may recall, The old school-day romances

O The South Wind and the Sun! How each loved the other one Full of fancy—- full folly— Full of jollity and fun! How they romped and ran about,

Her heart knew naught of sorrow, Nor the vaguest taint of sin— 'Twas an ever-blooming blossom Of the purity within: And her hands knew only touches

Right here at home, boys, in old… Where strangers allus joke us when… And brag o’ _their_ old States an… Yit _settle_ here; and 'fore they… They’re 'hoosier’ as the rest of u…

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

Tell you what I like the best— ‘Long about knee-deep in June, ’Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine,—some afternoon Like to jes’ git out and rest,

When frost’s all on our winder, an… All out-o’-doors, our 'Old-Kriss’… A-drivin’ round, ist purt’-nigh fr… With his old white mustache froze… But when it’s summer an’ all warm…

I’ve thought a power on men and th… As my uncle ust to say,— And ef folks don’t work as they pr… W’y, they ain’t no use to pray! Ef you want somepin’, and jes dead…

Who would be A merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid’s knee,

By her white bed I muse a little… She fell asleep—not very long ago,… And yet the grass was here and not… The leaf, the bud, the blossom, an… Midsummer’s heaven above us, and t…