This is 'The old Home by the Mil… Although the old mill, roof and si… The old home, though, and old folk… Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychok… Here, Marg’et, fetch the man a ti…

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

I bear dis cross dis many a mile. O de cross-bearin’ chile— De cross-bearin’ chile! I bear dis cross 'long many a road Wha’ de pink ain’t bloom’ an’ de g…

My little story, Cousin Rufus sai… Is not so much a story as a fact. It is about a certain willful boy— An aggrieved, unappreciated boy, Grown to dislike his own home very…

He faced his canvas (as a seer who… Pierces the crust of this existenc… And smiled beyond on that his geni… Ere mated with his being. Conscio… Of his high theme alone, he smiled…

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

1 Granny’s come to our house, 2 And ho! my lawzy-daisy! 3 All the childern round the p… 4 Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! 5 Fetched a cake fer little J…

Season of snows, and season of flo… Seasons of loss and gain!— Since grief and joy must alike be… Why do we still complain? Ever our failing, from sun to sun,

Sing! gangling lad, along the brin… Of wild brook-ways of shoal and de… Where killdees dip, and cattle dri… And glinting little minnows leap! Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above

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…

Jap Miller down at Martinsville’s… When _he_ starts in a-talkin’ othe… 'Pears like that mouth o’ his’n wu… But jes’ to argify 'em down and ge… He’ll talk you down on tariff; er…

Dawn, noon and dewfall! Bluebird… Up and at it airly, and the orchar… Peekin’ from the winder, half-awak… I could go to sleep agin as well a… II.

Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How t… And how the glossy horses tossed t… As the rattle and the rhyme of the… Filled all the hungry hearts of us… How the grand band-wagon shone wit…

Tomps 'ud allus haf to say Somepin’ ‘bout ’his mother’s way.'… _He_ lived hard-like—never jined Any church of any kind.— 'It was Mother’s way,' says he,