When all is done, and my last word… And ye who loved me murmur, ‘He i… Let no one weep, for fear that I… And sorrow too that ye should sorr… When all is done and in the oozing…

She told her beads with down—cast… Within the ancient chapel dim; And ever as her fingers slim Slipt o’er th’ insensate ivories, My rapt soul followed, spaniel—wis…

A DOWN the west a golden glow Sinks burning in the sea, And all the dreams of long ago Come flooding back to me. The past has writ a story strange

Ain’t nobody nevah tol’ you not a… 'Bout de time dat all de critters… Some folks tell it in a sto’y, som… ‘Peahs to me you ought to hyeahed… Well, de critters all was p’osp’ou…

DO’ a—stan’in’ on a jar, fiah a—s… thoo, Ol’ folks drowsin’ 'roun’ de place… wide awake is Lou, W’en I tap, she answah, an’ I see

The world is a snob, and the man w… Is the chap for its money’s worth: And the lust for success causes ha… That are cursing this brave old ea… For it 's fine to go up, and the w…

THERE’S a fabulous story Full of splendor and glory, That Arabian legends transcends; Of the wealth without measure, The coffers of treasure,

STEP me now a bridal measure, Work give way to love and leisure, Hearts be free and hearts be gay — Doctor Dan doth wed to—day. Diagnosis, cease your squalling —

YOU kin talk about yer anthems An’ yer arias an’ sich, An’ yer modern choir—singin’ That you think so awful rich; But you orter heerd us youngsters

Ther’ ain’t no use in all this str… An’ hurryin’, pell—mell, right thr… I don’t believe in goin’ too fast To see what kind o’ road you’ve pa… It ain’t no mortal kind o’ good,

At the golden gate of song Stood I, knocking all day long, But the Angel, calm and cold, Still refused and bade me, ‘Hold.… Then a breath of soft perfume,

THEN He loved her, and through many yea… Had paid his fair devoted court, Until she wearied, and with sneers Turned all his ardent love to spor…

This poem must be done to—day; Then, I 'll e’en to it. I must not dream my time away,— I ‘m sure to rue it. The day is rather bright, I know

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.

Slow de night 's a—fallin’, An’ I hyeah de callin, Out erpon de lonesome hill; Soun’ is moughty dreary, Solemn—lak an’ skeery,