We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs, In dis howlin’ wildaness, Fu’ to speak some words of comfo’t To each othah in distress. An’ we chooses fu’ ouah subjic’

Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah, Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’; Jes’ 'bout fall—time o’ de yeah W’en de leaves is dry an brown; Tek a dog an’ tek a axe,

LOVE used to carry a bow, you kn… But now he carries a taper; It is either a length of wax aglow… Or a twist of lighted paper. I pondered a little about the scam…

YOUR spoken words are roses fine… The songs you sing are perfect pea… How lavish nature is about your fe… To scatter flowers and jewels both… Blushing the stream of petal beaut…

AIN’T it nice to have a mammy W’en you kin’ o’ tiahed out Wid a—playin’ in de meddah, An’ a—runnin’ roun’ about Till hit’s made you mighty hongry,

'TWAS three an’ thirty year ago, I When I was ruther young, you kn… I had my last an’ only fight About a gal one summer night. 'Twas me an’ Zekel Johnson; Zeke

'Tis an old deserted homestead On the outskirts of the town, Where the roof is all moss—covered… And the walls are tumbling down; But around that little cottage

WHAT if the wind do howl without… And turn the creaking weather—vane… What if the arrows of the rain Do beat against the window—pane? Art thou not armored strong and fa…

Oh to have you in May, To talk with you under the trees, Dreaming throughout the day, Drinking the wine—like breeze, Oh it were sweet to think

See dis pictyah in my han’? Dat’s my gal; Ain’t she purty? goodness lan’! Huh name Sal. Dat’s de very way she be—

ALL de night long twell de moon g… Lovin’ I set at huh feet, Den fu’ de long jou’ney back f’om… Ha’d, but de dreams mek it sweet. All de night long twell de break o…

How’s a man to write a sonnet, can… How’s he going to weave the dim, p… When a—toddling on the floor Is the muse he must adore, And this muse he loves, not wisely…

THE rain streams down like harp—s… The wind, that world—old harpist,… And ever as he sings his low refra… He plays upon the harp—strings of…

It may be misery not to sing at al… And to go silent through the brimm… It may be misery never to be loved… But deeper griefs than these beset… To sing the perfect song,

HOME agin, an’ home to stay — Yes, it’s nice to be away. Plenty things to do an’ see, But the old place seems to me Jest about the proper thing.