Across the hills and down the narr… And up the valley where the free w… The earth is folded in an ermined… That mocks the melting mirth of my… Departed her disheartening duns an…

A YOUTH went faring up and down… Alack and well—a—day. He fared him to the market town, Alack and well—a—day. And there he met a maiden fair,

AN old worn harp that had been pl… Till all its strings were loose an… Joy, Hate and Fear, each one essa… To play. But each in turn had fou… No sweet responsiveness of sound

DE sun hit shine an’ de win’ hit… Ol’ Brer Rabbit be a—layin’ low, He know dat de wintah time a—comin… De huntah man he walk an’ wait, He walk right by Brer Rabbit’s ga…

A LOVER whom duty called over t… With himself communed: ‘Will my l… If left to herself? Had I better… Some friend to watch over her, goo… But my friend might fail in my nee…

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…

Oh, awful Power whose works repel The marvel of the earth’s designs,… I 'll hie me otherwhere to dwell, Arcadia has trolley lines.

AS a quiet little seedling Lay within its darksome bed, To itself it fell a—talking, And this is what it said: 'I am not so very robust,

Wen I git up in de mo’nin’ an’ de… Dey’s a kin’ o’ wa’nin’ shivah goe… Den I says to my ol’ ooman ez I w… 'Don’t you so’t o’ reckon, Lizy,… ‘Go on, man,’ my Lizy answah, 'yo…

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…

By rugged ways and thro’ the night We struggle blindly toward the lig… And groping, stumbling, ever pray For sight of long delaying day. The cruel thorns beside the road

MY soul, lost in the music’s mist… Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amet… The cheerless streets grew summer… The Son of Phœbus spurred his ste… And, wand’ring down the mazy tune,

De axes has been ringin’ in de woo… An’ de chips has been a—fallin’ fa… Dey has cut de bigges’ hick’ry dat… An’ dey’s laid hit down and soaked… Den dey tuk hit to de big house an…

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.

FOUR hundred years ago a tangled… Lay sleeping on the west Atlantic… Their devious ways the Old World’… Content, and loved, and labored, d… While students still believed the…