Nobody on the old farm here but M… Except, of course, the extry he’p… And then, I want to say to you, w… As you’d admit, ef you’d a-seen th… A better quarter-section, ner a ri…

Who am I but the Frog—the Frog! My realm is the dark bayou, And my throne is the muddy and mos… That the poison-vine clings to— And the blacksnakes slide in the s…

Let us forget. What matters it th… Once reigned o’er happy realms of… And talked of love, and let our vo… And ruled for some brief sessions… What if we sung, or laughed, or we…

Thou Poet, who, like any lark, Dost whet thy beak and trill From misty morn till murky dark, Nor ever pipe thy fill: Hast thou not, in thy cheery note,

The air falls chill; The whippoorwill Pipes lonesomely behind the Hill: The dusk grows dense, The silence tense;

It’s a mystery to see me—a man o’… Who’s lived a cross old bachelor f… A-lookin’ glad and smilin’! And t… That you can guess the reason why… I must tell you all about it! But…

Here’s his ragged 'roundabout’; Turn the pockets inside out: See; his pen-knife, lost to use, Rusted shut with apple-juice; Here, with marbles, top and string…

When Old Folks they wuz young lik… An’ little as you an’ me Them wuz the best times ever wuz Er ever goin’ to be!

I grow so weary, someway, of all t… That love and loving have vouchsaf… Since now all dreamed-of sweets of… Am I possessed of: The caress tha… The lips that mix with mine with m…

Has she forgotten? On this very M… We were to meet here, with the bir… As on that Sabbath, underneath th… We strayed among the tombs, and st… The vines from these old granites,…

Ho! green fields and running brook… Knotted strings and fishing-hooks Of the truant, stealing down Weedy backways of the town. Where the sunshine overlooks,

Once, in a dream, I saw a man With haggard face and tangled hair… And eyes that nursed as wild a car… As gaunt Starvation ever can; And in his hand he held a wand

O The Little Lady’s dainty As the picture in a book, And her hands are creamy-whiter Than the water-lilies look; Her laugh’s the undrown’d music

When Little Claude was naughty wu… At dinner-time, an’ said He won’t say '_Thank you_' to his… She maked him go to bed An’ stay two hours an’ not git up,…

They’s a kind o’ _feel_ in the air… When the Chris’mas-times sets in. That’s about as much of a mystery As ever I’ve run ag’in!— Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain…