In this sombre garden close What has come and passed, who know… What red passion, what white pain Haunted this dim walk in vain? Underneath the ivied wall,

I don’t believe in 'ristercrats An’ never did, you see; The plain ol’ homelike sorter folk… Is good enough fur me. O’ course, I don’t desire a man

DE dog go howlin’ 'long de road, De night come shiverin’ down; My back is tiahed of its load, I cain’t be fu’ f’om town. No mattah ef de way is long,

Pray, what can dreams avail To make love or to mar? The child within the cradle rail Lies dreaming of the star. But is the star by this beguiled

SINCE I left the city’s heat For this sylvan, cool retreat, High upon the hill—side here Where the air is clean and clear, I have lost the urban ways.

Oh for the breath of the briny dee… And the tug of the bellying sail, With the sea—gull’s cry across the… And a passing boatman’s hail. For, be she fierce or be she gay,

It’s hot to—day. The bees is buzz… Kinder don’t—keer—like aroun’ An’ fur off the warm air dances O’er the parchin’ roofs in town. In the brook the cows is standin’;

This is the debt I pay Just for one riotous day, Years of regret and grief, Sorrow without relief. Pay it I will to the end —

Belated wanderer of the ways of sp… Lost in the chill of grim Novembe… Would I could read the message th… And find in it the antidote for pa… Does some sad spirit out beyond th…

I DID not know that life could b… I did not know the hours could spe… Till I knew you, and life was swe… The days grew brief with love and… I was a slave a few short days ago…

ON a summer’s day as I sat by a s… A dainty maid came by, And she blessed my sight like a ro… And left me there to sigh, to sigh… And left me there to sigh, to sigh…

‘Twixt a smile and a tear, ’Twixt a song and a sigh, 'Twixt the day and the dark, When the night draweth nigh. Ah, sunshine may fade

TO F. N. Like sea—washed sand upon the shor… So fine and clean the tale, So clear and bright I almost see, The flashing of a sail.

With what thou gavest me, O Maste… I have wrought. Such chances, such abilities, To see the end was not for my poor… Thine was the impulse, thine the f…

Dear Miss Lucy: I been t’inkin’… But dis writin’ 's mighty tejous,… But I 's got a little lesure, so… Fu’ to let you know my feelin’s si… I ‘s right well, I ’s glad to tel…