DINAH stan’ befo’ de glass, Lookin’ moughty neat, An’ huh purty shadder sass At huh haid an’ feet. While she sasshay 'roun’ an’ bow,

Long time ago, we two set out, My soul and I. I know not why, For all our way was dim with doubt… I know not where

DEY was oncet a awful quoil 'twix… De pot was des a—bilin’ an’ de ski… Dey slurred each othah’s colah an’… W’ile de coal—oil can des gu—gled,… De pot, hit called de skillet des…

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…

Air a—gittin’ cool an’ coolah, Frost a—comin’ in de night, Hicka’ nuts an’ wa’nuts fallin’, Possum keepin’ out o’ sight. Tu’key struttin’ in de ba’nya’d,

DE win’ is blowin’ wahmah, An hit’s blowin’ f’om de bay; Dey’s a so’t o’ mist a—risin’ All erlong de meddah way; Dey ain’t a hint o’ frostin’

TELL your love where the roses b… And the hearts of the lilies quive… Not in the city’s gleam and glow, But down by a half—sunned river. Not in the crowded ball—room’s gla…

Dey is times in life when Nature Seems to slip a cog an’ go, Jes’ a—rattlin’ down creation, Lak an ocean’s overflow; When de worl’ jes’ stahts a—spinni…

Oh, summer has clothed the earth In a cloak from the loom of the su… And a mantle, too, of the skies’ s… And a belt where the rivers run. And now for the kiss of the wind,

DEY had a gread big pahty down to… Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in m… All de folks f’om fou’ plantations… Dey come troopin’ thick ez chillun… Evahbody dressed deir fines’—Heis…

THE little bird sits in the nest… A shy, soft song to the morning li… And it flutters a little and prune… The song is halting and poor and b… And the fluttering wings scarce st…

When I was young I longed for Lo… And held his glory far above All other earthly things. I cried… ‘Come, Love, dear Love, with me a… And with my subtlest art I wooed,

I know a little country place Where still my heart doth linger, And o’er its fields is every grace Lined out by memory’s finger. Back from the lane where poplars g…

UNCLE JOHN, he makes me tired; Thinks 'at he’s jest so all—fired Smart, 'at he kin pick up, so, Ever’thing he wants to know. Tried to ketch me up last night,