THE draft of love was cool and sw… You gave me in the cup, But, ah, love’s fire is keen and f… And I am burning up. Unless the tears I shed for you

Break me my bounds, and let me fly To regions vast of boundless sky; Nor I, like piteous Daphne, be Root—bound. Ah, no! I would be fr… As yon same bird that in its fligh…

HAIN’T you see my Mandy Lou, Is it true? Whaih you been f’om day to day, Whaih, I say? Dat you say you nevah seen

GOOD hunting! —aye, good hunting… Wherever the forests call; But ever a heart beats hot with fe… And what of the birds that fall? Good hunting! —aye, good hunting,

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.

Lay me down beneaf de willers in d… Whah de branch 'll go a—singin’ as… An’ w’en I’s a—layin’ low, I kin hyeah it as it go Singin’, 'Sleep, my honey, tek yo…

AH, Nora, my Nora, the light fad… While Night like a spirit steals… The thrash from his tree where he… No longer his music in ecstasy tri… Then, Nora, be near me; thy prese…

A cloud fell down from the heavens… And broke on the mountain’s brow; It scattered the dusky fragments All over the vale below. The moon and the stars were anxiou…

Not they who soar, but they who pl… Their rugged way, unhelped, to Go… Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the so…

He was a poet who wrote clever ver… And folks said he had a fine poeti… But his father, a practical farmer… Of letting the strength of his arm… He called on his sweetheart each…

Gray is the palace where she dwell… Grimly the poplars stand There by the window where she sits… My Lady of Castle Grand. There does she bide the livelong d…

HE scribbles some in prose and ve… And now and then he prints it; He paints a little, —gathers some Of Nature’s gold and mints it. He plays a little, sings a song,

Pray why are you so bare, so bare, Oh, bough of the old oak—tree; And why, when I go through the sh… Runs a shudder over me? My leaves were green as the best,…

THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS… Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile, You 's enough to dribe me wile. Want a sto’y; jes’ hyeah dat! Whah’ 'll I git a sto’y at?