Sleepy little, creepy little goblins in the gloaming,With their airy little, fairy little faces all aglow,Winking little, blinking little brownies gone a-roaming,Hear the rustling little, bustling little footfalls as they go.Laughing little, chaffing little voices sweetly singingIn the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies,Creep! Creep! Creep!Time to go to sleep!Baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes!Cricket in the thicket with the oddest little clatterSings his rattling little, prattling little, tattling little tune;Fleet the feet of tiny stars go patter, patter, patter,As they scamper from the heavens at the rising of the moon.Beaming little, gleaming little fireflies go dreamingTo the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies.Creep! Creep! Creep!Time to go to sleep!Baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes!Quaking little, shaking little voices all a-quiverIn the mushy little, rushy little, weedy, reedy bogs,Droning little, moaning little chorus by the river,In the croaking little, joking little cadence of the frogs.Eerie little, cheery little glowworms in the gloamingWhere the clover heads like fairy little nightcaps rise,Creep! Creep! Creep!Time to go to sleep!Baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes!J.W. Foley.
If we should be shipwrecked togetherAnd only had water for one,And it was the hottest of weatherRight out in the boiling sun,He'd tell me—no matter how bad heMight want it—to take a drink first;And then he would smile—oh, so glad heHad saved me!—and perish from thirst!Or, if we were lost on the prairieAnd only had food for a day,He'd come and would give me the share heHad wrapped up and hidden away;And after I ate it with sadnessHe'd smile with his very last breath,And lay himself down full of gladnessTo save me—and starve right to death.And if I was wounded in battleAnd out where great danger might be,He'd come through the roar and the rattleOf guns and of bullets to me,He'd carry me out, full of glory,No matter what trouble he had,And then he would fall down, all goryWith wounds, and would die—but be glad!We're chums—that's the reason he'd do it;And that's what a chum ought to be.And if it was fire he'd go through it,If I should call him to me.You see other fellows may know you,And friends that you have go and come;But a boy has one boy he can go to,For help all the time—that's his chum.J.W. Foley.
Jim Brady's big brother's a wonderful lad,And wonderful, wonderful muscles he had;He swung by one arm from the limb of a treeAnd hung there while Jim counted up forty-threeJust as slow as he could; and he leaped at a boundAcross a wide creek and lit square on the groundJust as light as a deer; and the things he can do,So Jimmy told us, you would hardly think true.Jim Brady's big brother could throw a fly ballFrom center to home just like nothing at all;And often while playing a game he would standAnd take a high fly with just only one hand;Jim Brady showed us where he knocked a home runAnd won the big game when it stood three to oneAgainst the home team, and Jim Brady, he showedThe place where it lit in the old wagon road!Jim Brady's big brother could bat up a flyThat you hardly could see, for it went up so high;He'd bring up his muscle and break any stringThat you tied on his arm like it wasn't a thing!He used to turn handsprings, and cartwheels, and heCould jump through his hands just as slick as could be,And circuses often would want him to goAnd be in the ring, but his mother said no.Jim Brady's big brother would often make betsWith boys that he'd turn two complete summersetsFrom off of the spring-board before he would dive,And you'd hardly think he would come up alive;And nobody else who went there to swimCould do it, but it was just easy for him;And they'd all be scared, so Jim said, when he'd stayIn under and come up a half mile away.Jim Brady's big brother, so Jim said, could runFive miles in a race just as easy as one.Right often he walked on his hands half a blockAnd could have walked more if he'd wanted to walk!And Jimmy says wait till he comes home from school,Where he is gone now, and some day, when it's cool,He'll get him to prove everything to be trueThat Jimmy told us his big brother could do!J.W. Foley.
"Oh tell me, sailor, tell me true,Is my little lad, my Elihu,A-sailing with your ship?"The sailor's eyes were dim with dew,—"Your little lad, your Elihu?"He said with trembling lip,—"What little lad? what ship?""What little lad! as if there could beAnother such a one as he!What little lad, do you say?Why, Elihu, that took to the seaThe moment I put him off my knee!It was just the other dayTheGray Swansailed away.""The other day?" the sailor's eyesStood open with a great surprise,—"The other day? theSwan?"His heart began in his throat to rise."Ay, ay, sir, here in the cupboard liesThe jacket he had on.""And so your lad is gone?""Gone with theSwan." "And did she standWith her anchor clutching hold of the sand,For a month, and never stir?""Why, to be sure! I've seen from the land,Like a lover kissing his lady's hand,The wild sea kissing her,—A sight to remember, sir.""But, my good mother, do you knowAll this was twenty years ago?I stood on theGray Swan'sdeck,And to that lad I saw you throw,Taking it off, as it might be, so,The kerchief from your neck.""Ay, and he'll bring it back!""And did the little lawless ladThat has made you sick and made you sad,Sail with theGray Swan'screw?""Lawless! the man is going mad!The best boy ever mother had,—Be sure he sailed with the crew!What would you have him do?""And he has never written line,Nor sent you word, nor made you signTo say he was alive?""Hold! if 'twas wrong, the wrong is mine;Besides, he may be in the brine,And could he write from the grave?Tut, man, what would you have?""Gone twenty years,—a long, long cruise,'Twas wicked thus your love to abuse;But if the lad still live,And come back home, think you you canForgive him?"—"Miserable man,You're mad as the sea,—you rave,—What have I to forgive?"The sailor twitched his shirt so blue,And from within his bosom drewThe kerchief. She was wild."My God! my Father! is it trueMy little lad, My Elihu?My blessed boy, my child!My dead,—my living child!"Alice Cary.
SPRINGThe joys of living wreathe my face,My heart keeps time to freshet's race;Of balmy airs I drink my fill—Why, there's a yellow daffodil!Along the stream a soft green tingeGives hint of feathery willow fringe;Methinks I heard a Robin's "Cheer"—I'm glad Spring's here!SUMMERAn afternoon of buzzing flies.Heat waves that sear, and quivering rise;The long white road, the plodding team,The deep, cool grass in which to dream;The distant cawing of the crows,Tall, waving grain, long orchard rows;The peaceful cattle in the stream—Midsummer's dream!AUTUMNA cold, gray day, a lowering sky,A lonesome pigeon wheeling by;The soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades,The shivering crane that flaps and wades;Dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree,The peace the river sings to me;The chill aloofness of the Fall—I love it all!WINTERA sheet of ice, the ring of steel,The crunch of snow beneath the heel;Loud, jingling bells, the straw-lined sleigh,A restless pair that prance and neigh;The early coming of the night,Red glowing logs, a shaded light;The firelit realm of books is mine—Oh, Winter's fine!Ramona Graham.
A fellow near Kentucky's clime34A foolish little maiden bought a foolish little bonnet168'A frightful face'? Wal, yes, yer correct125A harbor in a sunny, southern city137Alone in the dreary, pitiless street46Among the legends sung or said63An old lady sat in her old arm-chair200An old man going a lone highway54April! April! are you here?59A sad-faced little fellow sits alone in deep disgrace108At Paris it was, at the opera there72A traveler on the dusty road97Away, away in the Northland131Beneath the hot midsummer sun39Between broad fields of wheat and corn147Billy's dead, and gone to glory—so is Billy's sister Nell104Break, break, break52Bring, novelist, your note-book! bring, dramatist, your pen!123By Nebo's lonely mountain45Chained in the market-place he stood145Cheeriest room, that morn, the kitchen128Cleon hath ten thousand acres37Closed eyes can't see the white roses84Come to me, O ye children!16"Corporal Green!" the orderly cried86Could we but draw back the curtains29Dear little flag in the window there127Did you tackle the trouble that came your way132Don't kill the birds, the pretty birds53Every coin of earthly treasure12Far back, in my musings, my thoughts have been cast75Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!94First on the list is Washington, Virginia's proudest name195Fling it from mast and steeple202Give me that grand old volume, the gift of a mother's love117God makes sech nights, all white an' still59God said: I am tired of kings62God send us a little home87Good Deacon Roland—"May his tribe increase!"178Go thou thy way, and I go mine162Grandma told me all about it48Great were the hearts and strong the minds37"Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!"174Han'some, stranger? Yes, she's purty an' ez peart as she kin be96Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings111Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?27He came to my desk with quivering lip202He who has the vision sees more than you or I146Hey! little evergreens203Home they brought her warrior dead74How are you hoeing your row, my boy?202Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber35I asked of Echo, t'other day65I cannot vouch my tale is true156I can't tell much about the thing, 'twas done so powerful quick182I come, I come! ye have called me long26I'd like to hunt the Injuns 't roam the boundless plain!121If all the skies were sunshine36If I had known in the morning119If I were hanged on the highest hill70If we should be shipwrecked together206If you can dress to make yourself attractive153If you can take your dreams into the classroom165If you have a friend worth loving167I have a rendezvous with Death142I love my prairies, they are mine74I'm not a chicken; I have seen137In a dark and dismal alley where the sunshine never came112In an attic bare and cheerless, Jim the newsboy dying lay52In a pioneer's cabin out West, so they say130In a valley, centuries ago36In Gettysburg at break of day122In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes90In the hush and the lonely silence65Into a ward of the whitewashed halls175I sat alone with my conscience81I saw him once before20It is Christmas day in the workhouse193It isn't the thing you do, dear116It may be that the words I spoke103It's easy to talk of the patience of Job82It takes a heap o' livin' in a houst t' make it home7It was a bright and lovely summer's morn114It was an old, old, old, old lady30It was a sergeant old and gray158It was a starry night in June, the air was soft and still102It was in the days when Claverhouse9It was kept out in the kitchen, and 'twas long and deep and wide177It was many and many a year ago25It was the pleasant harvest-time188It was the twilight hour61I've got a letter, parson, from my son away out West53I walked through the woodland meadows9I wandered lonely where the pine-trees made199I was mighty good-lookin' when I was young44I was sitting in my study40I was strolling one day down the Lawther Arcade169I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint of beer170I, who was always counted, they say42I wish there were some wonderful place32I wrote some lines once on a time14Jim Brady's big brother's a wonderful lad206King David's limbs were weary. He had fled191Laugh, and the world laughs with you139Let us be kind143Life! I know not what thou art65Like a dream, it all comes o'er me as I hear the Christmas bells47Like liquid gold the wheat field lies8Little lamb, who made thee?86Little lass of Plymouth,—gentle, shy, and sweet154Little one, come to my knee!89Marching down to Armageddon157Mine is a wild, strange story,—the strangest you ever heard106My grandfather's clock was too tall for the shelf35Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes131Never mind me, Uncle Jared, never mind my bleeding breast11Never yet was a springtime93No, comrades, I thank you—not any for me87No gilt or tinsel taints the dress204No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end140Not far advanced was morning day95Not who you are, but what you are66O for one hour of youthful joy!58O'Grady lived in Shanty row44Oh, a wonderful stream is the river of Time51Oh, East is East, and West is West23Oh! listen to the water mill through all the livelong day143Oh, such a commotion under the ground59"Oh tell me, sailor, tell me true"207O Liberty, thou child of Law39O month of fairer, rarer days153Once in Persia reigned a king159One sweetly solemn thought48On the top of the Crumpetty Tree91O Thou eternal One! whose presence bright162Our band is few, but true and tried54Our old brown homestead reared its walls55Out of the hills of Habersham66Piller fights is fun, I tell you80Prop yer eyes wide open, Joey32Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky63Saint Augustine! well hast thou said33She sat on the sliding cushion29She's up there—Old Glory—where lightnings are sped21She was a Phantom of delight89Silent he watched them—the soldiers and dog122Sleepy little, creepy little goblins in the gloaming205Slow the Kansas sun was setting37Some die too late and some too soon84Sometimes w'en I am playin' with some fellers 'at I knows127Somewhere, out on the blue sea sailing138South mountain towered upon our right, far off the river lay176Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!99Sweet is the voice that called75Talking of sects quite late one eve180The autumn is old186The bells of Mount Vernon are ringing to-day58The boy stood on the burning deck164The bravest battle that ever was fought64The children kept coming one by one146The coppenter man said a wicked word139The day is cold, and dark, and dreary28The district school-master was sitting behind his great book-laden desk68The feast is o'er! Now brimming wine57The gate was thrown open, I rode out alone120The gret big church wuz crowded full uv broadcloath an' of silk149The harp that once through Tara's halls71The joys of living wreathe my face208The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year21The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone55The muffled drum's sad roll has beat15The night was dark when Sam set out76The old mayor climbed the belfry tower150There are two kinds of people on earth to-day116There fell an April shower, one night26There lay upon the ocean's shore150There's a dandy little fellow82There was a Boy; you knew him well, ye cliffs90There was a sound of revelry by night17There were ninety and nine166The rich man's son inherits lands22The rosy clouds float overhead62These are the things I hold divine64The shades of night were falling fast15The snow and the silence came down together83The sunlight shone on walls of stone134The sun's heat will give out in ten million years more203The sweetest lives are those to duty wed20The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire160The weaver at this loom is sitting171They grew in beauty, side by side130They said, "The Master is coming"30This is the land where hate should die18Tho' yer lamp o' life is burnin' with a clear and steady light199Three little words you often see201'Tis a cold, bleak night! with angry roar77'Tis a lesson you should heed135'Tis gone at last, and I am glad; it stayed a fearful while173'Tis only a half truth the poet has sung28"To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!"41Turn back the leaves of history. On yon Pacific shore183'Twas a stylish congregation, that of Theophrastus Brown18'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse78'Twas the eve before Christmas; "Good-night" had been said196Two angels, one of Life and one of Death187Two little stockings hung side by side141Want any papers, Mister?94We all look on with anxious eyes40We are two travellers, Roger and I49Well, wife, I found themodelchurch! I worshipped there to-day148W'en you see a man in woe123We squander health in search of wealth103We were crowded in the cabin56We were not many,—we who stood165"What fairings will ye that I bring?"92What flower is this that greets the morn85What makes the dog's nose always cold?144Whence come those shrieks so wild and shrill12Whene'er a noble deed is wrought56Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track8When I compare34When Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule daown thar on Injun Bay67When papa was a little boy you really couldn't find100When the humid showers gather over all the starry spheres97When the lessons and tasks are all ended133When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour118Whichever way the wind doth blow67"Which shall it be? which shall it be?"101Who comes dancing over the snow153Who dat knockin' at de do'?71Why dost thou wildly rush and roar100Why, yes, dear, we can put it by. It does seem out of place186With sable-draped banners and slow measured tread140Work! Thank God for the might of it154Work thou for pleasure; paint or sing or carve169Ye banks, and braes, and streams around88Ye say that all have passed away—that noble race and brave135Yes, it's a quiet station, but it suits me well enough109You bad leetle boy, not moche you care80You may talk o' gin an' beer98You're going to leave the homestead, John159Your letter, lady, came too late136You sail and you seek for the Fortunate Isles168You say I have asked for the costliest thing155