,,poems ,,teachers ,,ask ,,for ,selected by ,,readers ,,of ,,normal ,,instructor-,,primary ,,plans ,,comprising ,,the ,,poems ,,most ,,frequently ,,requested ,,for ,,publication ,,in ,,that ,,magazine ,,on ,,the ,,page ,,poems ,,our ,,readers ,,have ,,asked ,,for ,,index ,abou ,ben ,adhem ,hunt #cj ,abraham ,lincoln ,t4 ,taylor #af ,all ,things ,bright and ,beautiful ,alexander #da ,american ,flag1 ,the ,drake #acc ,answer to ,rock ,me to ,sleep #ajc ,arrow and the ,song1 ,the ,longfellow #gd ,asleep at the ,switch ,hoey #ef ,at ,school-,close ,whittier #fe ,aunt ,tabitha #de ,autumn ,woods ,bryant #dh ,baby1 ,the ,macdonald #bb ,barbara ,frietchie ,whittier #ga ,barefoot ,boy1 ,the ,whittier #agf ,bay ,billy ,gassaway #ajd ,be ,strong ,babcock #agd ,better ,than ,gold ,smart #adc ,bingen on the ,rhine ,norton #aba ,blue and the ,gray1 ,the ,finch #ahc ,bluebird's ,song1 ,the ,e4,h4 ,miller #gc ,bobby ,shaftoe #h ,boy and ,his ,stomach1 ,a #ic ,boy's ,song1 ,a ,hogg #agb ,breathes ,there the ,man ,scott #ahe ,brier-,rose ,boyesen #add ,brook1 ,the ,tennyson #afb ,brown ,thrush1 ,the ,larcom #aha ,bugle ,song1 ,the ,tennyson #ahc ,builders1 ,the ,longfellow #aha ,building of the ,ship1 ,the ,longfellow #fc ,burial of ,sir ,john ,moore1 ,the ,wolfe #aij ,calf ,path1 ,the ,foss #aaj ,casey at the ,bat ,thayer #ajj ,casey's ,revenge ,wilson #aja ,chambered ,nautilus1 ,the ,holmes #afi ,character of the ,happy ,warrior ,wordsworth #afe ,charge of the ,light ,brigade1 ,the ,tennyson #aff ,children's ,hour1 ,the ,longfellow #gj ,children1 ,the ,dickinson #ec ,child's ,thought of ,god1 ,a ,e4,b4 ,browning #ahc ,christ in ,flanders #ah ,christmas ,everywhere ,brooks #aeh ,cloud1 ,the ,shelley #aei ,college ,oil ,cans ,mc,guire #abb ,columbus ,joaquin ,miller #hc ,concord ,hymn1 ,the ,emerson #ii ,corn ,song1 ,the ,whittier #aga ,crossing the ,bar ,tennyson #ahf ,curfew ,must ,not ,ring ,to-night ,thorpe #bd ,custer's ,last ,charge ,whittaker #ia ,daffodils ,wordsworth #agi ,darius ,green and ,his ,flying ,machine ,trowbridge #aec ,day ,well ,spent1 ,a #ch ,dead ,pussy ,cat1 ,the ,short #fd ,diffidence #bc ,don't ,give ,up ,p4 ,cary #ahb ,driving ,home the ,cows ,osgood #hh ,drummer ,boy of ,mission ,ridge #di ,each in ,his ,own ,tongue ,carruth #eh ,echo ,saxe #bj ,engineers ,making ,love ,burdette #ba ,eternal ,goodness1 ,the ,whittier #hg ,fable1 ,a ,emerson #agg ,face ,upon the ,floor1 ,the ,d',arcy #ajh ,fairies1 ,the ,allingham #agc ,fence or an ,ambulance1 ,a ,malins #abg ,first ,settler's ,story1 ,the ,carleton #aig ,first ,snow-fall1 ,the ,lowell #ii ,flag ,goes ,by1 ,the ,bennett #de ,fountain1 ,the ,lowell #ahf ,four-leaf ,clover1 ,the ,higginson #acd ,frost1 ,the ,gould #aga ,give ,us ,men ,holland #cc ,god's ,judgment on a ,wicked ,bishop ,southey #abd ,golden ,keys #acd ,good ,night and ,good ,morning ,houghton #ahd ,gradatim ,holland #if ,green ,mountain ,justice1 ,the ,reeves #gd ,guilty or ,not ,guilty #bb ,hand ,that ,rules the ,world1 ,the ,wallace #aac ,house by the ,side of the ,road1 ,the ,foss #ef ,how ,cyrus ,laid the ,cable ,saxe #eh ,how ,he ,saved ,st4 ,michael's ,stansbury #aai ,huskers1 ,the ,whittier #aeb ,if-- ,kipling #ea ,i ,like ,little ,pussy ,j4 ,taylor #agh ,incident of the ,french ,camp ,r4 ,browning #ahb ,in ,flanders ,fields ,mc,crae #aie ,in ,flanders ,fields3 ,an ,answer ,galbreath #aie ,in ,school-,days ,whittier #ca ,inventor's ,wife1 ,an ,ewing #ac ,invictus ,henley #bi ,is ,it ,worth ,while8 ,joachim ,miller #cf ,i ,want to ,go to ,morrow #gb ,jane ,conquest ,milne #gf ,jane ,jones ,king #ei ,johnny's ,hist'ry ,lesson ,waterman #fb ,june ,lowell #afc ,kate ,ketchem ,p4 ,cary #ha ,kate ,shelly ,hall #be ,katie ,lee and ,willie ,grey #cj ,kentucky ,belle ,woolson #aj ,kentucky ,philosophy ,robertson #cb ,kid ,has ,gone to the ,colors1 ,the ,herschell #i ,king ,robert of ,sicily ,longfellow #adg ,lady ,moon ,houghton #ahe ,landing of the ,pilgrims1 ,the ,hemans #h ,lasca ,desprez #abi ,last ,hymn1 ,the ,faringham #abf ,leak in the ,dike1 ,the ,p4 ,cary #ahg ,leap for ,life1 ,a ,morris #gd ,leap of ,roushan ,beg1 ,the ,longfellow #fj ,leedle ,yawcob ,strauss ,adams #ce ,legend of ,bregenz1 ,a ,procter #ada ,legend of the ,organ-,builder1 ,the ,dorr #ajf ,l',envoi ,kipling #fg ,life's ,mirror ,bridges #cg ,lips ,that ,touch ,liquor1 ,the ,young #gi ,little ,birdie ,tennyson #agc ,little ,black-,eyed ,rebel1 ,the ,carleton #cg ,little ,boy ,blue ,field #aie ,little ,brown ,hands ,krout #ga ,little ,plant1 ,the ,brown #aib ,lost ,chord1 ,the ,procter #fi ,love of ,country ,scott #ahe 7,breathes ,there the ,man7 ,main ,truck1 ,the ,morris #gd ,mandalay ,kipling #hb ,man ,with the ,hoe1 ,the ,markham #aae ,maud ,muller ,whittier #bje ,miller of the ,dee1 ,the ,mackay #ci ,moo ,cow ,moo1 ,the ,cooke #dj ,mother's ,fool #ca ,mothers of ,men ,joaquin ,miller #dc ,mount ,vernon's ,bells ,slade #ie ,mr4 ,finney's ,turnip #if ,my ,love ,ship ,wilcox #aad ,my ,mother #ach ,nathan ,hale ,finch #gh ,never ,trouble ,trouble ,windsor #cc ,nobility ,a4 ,cary #afi ,not ,understood #acf ,november ,a4 ,cary #agc ,o ,captain6 ,my ,captain ,whitman #g ,october's ,bright ,blue ,weather ,jackson #add ,old ,clock on the ,stairs1 ,the ,longfellow #ag ,old ,ironsides ,holmes #fa ,old ,red ,cradle1 ,the ,grannies #ci ,o ,little ,town of ,bethlehem ,brooks #afh ,on ,his ,blindness ,milton #agb ,on the ,shores of ,tennessee ,beers #ic ,opportunity ,ingalls #age ,opportunity ,malone #age ,order for a ,picture1 ,an ,a4 ,cary #da ,our ,folks ,beers #ajg ,out in the ,fields ,e4,b4 ,browning #gc ,over the ,hill to the ,poorhouse ,carleton #aca ,overworked ,elocutionist1 ,the #i ,owl and the ,pussy-,cat1 ,the ,lear #agj ,owl ,critic1 ,the ,fields #fd ,paul ,revere's ,ride ,longfellow #aic ,penny ,ye ,mean to ,gie1 ,the #cd ,perfect ,day1 ,a ,bond #hj ,pippa's ,song ,r4 ,browning #ahe ,plain ,bob and a ,job ,foley #dd ,planting of the ,apple-,tree ,bryant #afd ,poet's ,prophecy1 ,a ,tennyson #g ,polonius' ,advice to ,laertes ,shakespeare #agg ,poorhouse ,nan ,blinn #aaf ,psalm of ,life1 ,a ,longfellow #fa ,quality of ,mercy1 ,the ,shakespeare #aha ,raggedy ,man1 ,the ,riley #bjc ,recessional1 ,the ,kipling #hf ,ride of ,jennie ,m',neal1 ,the ,carleton #aaa ,riding on the ,rail ,saxe #fb ,rivers of ,france1 ,the #df ,robert of ,lincoln ,bryant #ahi ,robert ,reese 7,the ,overworked ,elocutionist7 #i ,rock ,me to ,sleep ,allen #ajb ,say ,not the ,struggle ,nought ,availeth ,clough #ci ,second ,table ,waterman #eb ,seein' ,things ,field #bjc ,seven ,times ,one ,ingelow #df ,seven ,times ,two ,ingelow #dg ,seven ,times ,three ,ingelow #dg ,seven ,times ,four ,ingelow #dh ,sheridan's ,ride ,read #afg ,she ,walks in ,beauty ,byron #ahj ,sister and ,i #bjg ,sister's ,best ,feller ,lincoln #hd ,sleep1 ,baby1 ,sleep ,elizabeth ,prentiss #fi ,smack in ,school1 ,the ,palmer #abh ,somebody's ,mother ,brine #acf ,song of ,our ,flag1 ,a ,nesbit #hi ,song of the ,camp1 ,the ,b4 ,taylor #ahj ,song of the ,sea ,cornwall #bc ,song of the ,shirt ,hood #aeg ,song3 ,the ,owl ,tennyson #agd ,so ,was ,i ,smiley #cf ,suppose ,p4 ,cary #agh ,sweet and ,low ,tennyson #age ,tapestry ,weavers1 ,the ,chester #he ,teacher's ,dream1 ,the ,venable #adj ,telling the ,bees ,whittier #ace ,thanatopsis ,bryant #aif ,thanksgiving-,day ,child #agh ,there's ,but ,one ,pair of ,stockings #bg ,to a ,butterfly ,wordsworth #agi ,to a ,skylark ,shelley #afj ,to a ,waterfowl ,bryant #acg ,to-day ,carlyle #aia ,to-day ,waterman #ce ,to the ,fringed ,gentian ,bryant #agi ,tree1 ,the ,bjornson #ahf ,twinkle1 ,twinkle1 ,little ,star ,j4 ,taylor #ahe ,two ,glasses1 ,the ,wilcox #ae ,village ,blacksmith1 ,the ,longfellow #ig ,visit from ,st4 ,nicholas1 ,a ,moore #ed ,walrus and the ,carpenter1 ,the ,carroll #ach ,we ,are ,seven ,wordsworth #ai ,what ,i ,live ,for ,banks #aad ,what is ,good ,o',reilly #cd ,when the ,cows ,come ,home ,mitchell #ij ,when the ,minister ,comes to ,tea ,lincoln #hi ,when the ,teacher ,gets ,cross #hf ,where the ,west ,begins ,chapman #he ,whistling in ,heaven #fg ,white-,footed ,deer1 ,the ,bryant #id ,who ,won the ,war8 ,pulsifer #dc ,why ,should the ,spirit of ,mortal ,be ,proud6 ,knox #aah ,wild ,white ,rose1 ,the ,willis #ff ,wind and the ,moon1 ,the ,macdonald #aia ,wind1 ,the ,rossetti #agj ,wishing ,allingham #aij ,woman's ,question1 ,a ,lathrop #abi ,wonderful ,world1 ,the ,rands #agd ,woodman1 ,spare ,that ,tree ,morris #gj ,you and ,you ,wharton #ig ,young ,man ,waited1 ,the ,cooke #bh ,your ,mission ,gates #ee ,,preface ,seldom does a book of poems appear that is definitely a response to demand and a reflection of readers' preferences4 ,of this collection that can properly be claimed4 ,for a decade ,,normal ,,instructor-,,primary ,,plans has carried monthly a page entitled ,poems ,our ,readers ,have ,asked ,for4 ,the interest in this page has been1 and is1 phenomenal4 ,occasionally space considerations or copyright restrictions have prevented compliance with requests1 but so far as practicable poems asked for have been printed4 ,because it has become impossible to furnish many of the earlier issues of the magazine1 the publishers decided to select the poems most often requested and1 carefully revising these for possible errors1 to include them in the present collection4 ,in some cases the desired poems are old favorite dramatic recitations1 but many of them are poems that are required or recommended for memorizing in state courses of study4 ,this latter feature will of itself make the book extremely valuable to teachers throughout the country4 ,we are glad to offer here certain poems1 often requested1 but too long for insertion on our magazine ,poetry ,page4 ,we are pleased also to be able to include a number of popular copyright poems4 ,special permission to use these has been granted through arrangement with the authorized publishers1 whose courtesy is acknowledged below in detail3 ,,the ,,bobbs-,,merrill ,,company--,the ,raggedy ,man1 from ,the ,biographical ,edition of the ,complete ,works of ,james ,whitcomb ,riley1 copyright #aiah4 ,,charles ,,scribner',s ,,sons--,seein' ,things and ,little ,boy ,blue1 by ,eugene ,field2 ,gradatim and ,give ,us ,men1 from ,the ,poetical ,works of ,j4,g4 ,holland2 and ,you and ,you1 by ,edith ,wharton1 copyright #aiai4 ,,harper ,,and ,,brothers--,over the ,hill to the ,poor-,house1 ,the ,ride of ,jennie ,m',neal1 ,the ,little ,black-,eyed ,rebel1 and ,the ,first ,settler's ,story1 by ,will ,carleton4 ,,the ,,dodge ,,publishing ,,company--,the ,moo ,cow ,moo and ,the ,young ,man ,waited1 by ,edmund ,vance ,cooke4 ,,lothrop1 ,,lee ,,and ,,shepard ,,company--,the ,house by the ,side of the ,road and ,the ,calf ,path1 by ,sam ,walter ,foss4 ,,little1 ,,brown ,,and ,,company--,october's ,bright ,blue ,weather1 by ,helen ,hunt ,jackson4 ,,houghton ,,mifflin ,,company--,poems by ,john ,g4 ,whittier1 ,alice ,cary1 ,phoebe ,cary1 ,james ,t4 ,fields1 and ,lucy ,larcom4 ,,the ,,publishers4 ,,poems ,,teachers ,,ask ,,for 99 99 99 99 99 ,o ,captain6 ,my ,captain6 7,this poem was written in memory of ,abraham ,lincoln47 ,o ,captain6 ,my ,captain6 our fearful trip is done1 ,the ship has weathered every rack1 the prize we sought is won2 ,the port is near1 the bells ,i hear1 the people all exulting1 ,while follow eyes the steady keel1 the vessel grim and daring2 ,but1 ,o heart6 heart6 heart6 ,o the bleeding drops of red1 ,where on the deck my ,captain lies1 ,fallen1 cold and dead4 ,o ,captain6 ,my ,captain6 rise up and hear the bells2 ,rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills1 ,for you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding1 ,for you they call1 the swaying mass1 their eager faces turning2 ,here ,captain6 dear father6 ,this arm beneath your head6 ,it is some dream that on the deck ,you've fallen cold and dead4 ,my ,captain does not answer1 his lips are pale and still2 ,my father does not feel my arm1 he has no pulse or will2 ,the ship is anchored safe and sound1 its voyage closed and done2 ,from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won2 ,exult1 ,o shores6 and ring1 ,o bells6 ,but ,i1 with mournful tread1 ,walk the deck my ,captain lies1 ,fallen1 cold and dead4 ,walt ,whitman4 ,a ,poet's ,prophecy ,for ,i dipt into the future1 far as human eye could see1 ,saw the ,vision of the world1 and all the wonder that would be2 ,saw the heavens fill with commerce1 argosies of magic sails1 ,pilots of the purple twilight1 dropping down with costly bales2 ,heard the heavens fill with shouting1 and there rained a ghastly dew ,from the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue2 ,far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm1 ,with the standards of the peoples plunging through the thunderstorm2 ,till the war-drum throbb'd no longer1 and the battleflags were furl'd ,in the ,parliament of man1 the ,federation of the world4 ,there the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe1 ,and the kindly earth shall slumber1 lapt in universal law4 ,tennyson1 ,locksley ,hall1 #ahdb4 ,the ,landing of the ,pilgrims ,the breaking waves dashed high ,on a stern and rock-bound coast1 ,and the woods against a stormy sky ,their giant branches tossed2 ,and the heavy night hung dark ,the hills and waters o'er1 ,when a band of exiles moored their bark ,on the wild ,new ,england shore4 ,not as the conqueror comes1 ,they1 the true-hearted1 came1-- ,not with the roll of the stirring drums1 ,and the trumpet that sings of fame2 ,not as the flying come1 ,in silence and in fear2 ,they shook the depths of the desert's gloom ,with their hymns of lofty cheer4 ,amidst the storms they sang2 ,and the stars heard1 and the sea2 ,and the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang ,to the anthem of the free4 ,the ocean eagle soared ,from his nest by the white wave's foam2 ,and the rocking pines of the forest roared-- ,this was their welcome home6 ,there were men with hoary hair ,amidst that pilgrim band3 ,why had they come to wither there ,away from their childhood's land8 ,there was woman's fearless eye1 ,lit by her deep love's truth2 ,there was manhood's brow serenely high1 ,and the fiery heart of youth4 ,what sought they thus afar8 ,bright jewels of the mine8 ,the wealth of seas1 the spoils of war8-- ,they sought a faith's pure shrine4 ,ay1 call it holy ground1-- ,the soil where first they trod6 ,they have left unstained what there they found-- ,freedom to worship ,god6 ,felicia ,hemans4 ,bobby ,shaftoe ,marie1 will you marry me8 ,for you know how ,i love thee6 ,tell me1 darling1 will you be ,the wife of ,bobby ,shaftoe8 ,bobby1 pray don't ask me more1 ,for you've asked me twice before2 ,let us be good friends1 no more1 ,no more1 ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,if you will not marry me1 ,i will go away to sea2 ,and you ne'er again shall be ,a friend of ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,oh1 you will not go away ,for you've said so twice to-day4 ,stop6 ,he's gone6 ,dear ,bobby1 stay6 ,dearest ,bobby ,shaftoe6 ,bobby ,shaftoe's gone to sea1 ,silver buckles on his knee1 ,but he'll come back and marry me1 ,pretty ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,he will soon come back to me1 ,and how happy ,i shall be1 ,he'll come back and marry me1 ,dearest ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,bobby ,shaftoe's lost at sea1 ,he cannot come back to thee4 ,and you ne'er again will see ,your dear ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,oh1 we sadly mourn for thee1 ,and regret we ne'er shall see ,our friend ,bobby1 true and free1 ,dearest ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,bobby ,shaftoe's lost at sea4 ,and can ne'er come back to me1 ,but ,i'll ever faithful be1 ,true to ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,darling1 ,i've come home from sea1 ,i've come back to marry thee1 ,for ,i know you're true to me1 ,true to ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,yes1 ,i always cared for thee1 ,and now you've come back to me1 ,and we will always happy be1 ,dearest ,bobby ,shaftoe4 ,bobby ,shaftoe's come from sea1 ,and we will united be1 ,heart and hand in unity1 ,mr4 and ,mrs4 ,shaftoe4 ,the ,overworked ,elocutionist 7,or ,,robert ,,reese7 ,once there was a little boy ,whose name was ,robert ,reese1 ,and every ,friday afternoon ,he had to speak a piece4 ,so many poems thus he learned ,that soon he had a store ,of recitations in his head ,and still kept learning more4 ,now this it is what happened3 ,he was called upon one week ,and totally forgot the piece ,he was about to speak4 ,his brain he vainly cudgeled ,but no word was in his head1 ,and so he spoke at random1 ,and this is what he said2 ,my beautiful1 my beautiful1 ,who standest proudly by1 ,it was the schooner ,hesperus ,the breaking waves dashed high4 ,why is the ,forum crowded8 ,what means this stir in ,rome8 ,under a spreading chestnut tree ,there is no place like home4 ,when ,freedom from her mountain height ,cried1 ,twinkle1 little star1 ,shoot if you must this old gray head1 ,king ,henry of ,navarre4 ,if you're waking1 call me early ,to be or not to be1 ,curfew must not ring to-night1 ,oh1 woodman1 spare that tree4 ,charge1 ,chester1 ,charge6 ,on1 ,stanley1 on6 ,and let who will be clever1 ,the boy stood on the burning deck ,but ,i go on for ever4 ,the ,kid ,has ,gone to the ,colors ,the ,kid has gone to the ,colors ,and we don't know what to say2 ,the ,kid we have loved and cuddled ,stepped out for the ,flag to-day4 ,we thought him a child1 a baby ,with never a care at all1 ,but his country called him man-size ,and the ,kid has heard the call4 ,he paused to watch the recruiting1 ,where1 fired by the fife and drum1 ,he bowed his head to ,old ,glory ,and thought that it whispered3 ,come6 ,the ,kid1 not being a slacker1 ,stood forth with patriot-joy ,to add his name to the roster-- ,and ,god1 we're proud of the boy6 ,the ,kid has gone to the ,colors2 ,it seems but a little while ,since he drilled a schoolboy army ,in a truly martial style1 ,but now he's a man1 a soldier1 ,and we lend him a listening ear1 ,for his heart is a heart all loyal1 ,unscourged by the curse of fear4 ,his dad1 when he told him1 shuddered1 ,his mother--,god bless her6--cried2 ,yet1 blest with a mother-nature1 ,she wept with a mother-pride1 ,but he whose old shoulders straightened ,was ,granddad--for memory ran ,to years when he1 too1 a youngster1 ,was changed by the ,flag to a man6 ,w4,m4 ,herschell4 ,kentucky ,belle ,summer of 'sixty-three1 sir1 and ,conrad was gone away-- ,gone to the county-town1 sir1 to sell our first load of hay-- ,we lived in the log house yonder1 poor as ever you've seen2 ,roschen there was a baby1 and ,i was only nineteen4 ,conrad1 he took the oxen1 but he left ,kentucky ,belle4 ,how much we thought of ,kentuck1 ,i couldn't begin to tell-- ,came from the ,blue-,grass country2 my father gave her to me ,when ,i rode north with ,conrad1 away from the ,tennessee4 ,conrad lived in ,ohio--a ,german he is1 you know-- ,the house stood in broad cornfields1 stretching on1 row after row4 ,the old folks made me welcome2 they were kind as kind could be2 ,but ,i kept longing1 longing1 for the hills of the ,tennessee4 ,oh1 for a sight of water1 the shadowed slope of a hill6 ,clouds that hang on the summit1 a wind that never is still6 ,but the level land went stretching away to meet the sky-- ,never a rise1 from north to south1 to rest the weary eye6 ,from east to west1 no river to shine out under the moon1 ,nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon3 ,only the breathless sunshine1 as ,i looked out1 all forlorn2 ,only the rustle1 rustle1 as ,i walked among the corn4 ,when ,i fell sick with pining1 we didn't wait any more1 ,but moved away from the cornlands1 out to this river shore-- ,the ,tuscarawas it's called1 sir--off there's a hill1 you see-- ,and now ,i've grown to like it next best to the ,tennessee4 ,i was at work that morning4 ,some one came riding like mad ,over the bridge and up the road--,farmer ,rouf's little lad4 ,bareback he rode2 he had no hat2 he hardly stopped to say1 ,morgan's men are coming1 ,frau2 they're galloping on this way4 ,i'm sent to warn the neighbors4 ,he isn't a mile behind2 ,he sweeps up all the horses--every horse that he can find4 ,morgan1 ,morgan the raider1 and ,morgan's terrible men1 ,with bowie knives and pistols1 are galloping up the glen6 ,the lad rode down the valley1 and ,i stood still at the door2 ,the baby laughed and prattled1 playing with spools on the floor2 ,kentuck was out in the pasture2 ,conrad1 my man1 was gone4 ,nearer1 nearer1 ,morgan's men were galloping1 galloping on6 ,sudden ,i picked up baby1 and ran to the pasture bar4 ,kentuck6 ,i called--,kentucky6 ,she knew me ever so far6 ,i led her down the gully that turns off there to the right1 ,and tied her to the bushes2 her head was just out of sight4 ,as ,i ran back to the log house1 at once there came a sound-- ,the ring of hoofs1 galloping hoofs1 trembling over the ground-- ,coming into the turnpike out from the ,white ,woman ,glen-- ,morgan1 ,morgan the raider1 and ,morgan's terrible men4 ,as near they drew and nearer1 my heart beat fast in alarm2 ,but still ,i stood in the doorway with baby on my arm4 ,they came1 they passed2 with spur and whip in haste they sped along-- ,morgan1 ,morgan the raider1 and his band1 six hundred strong4 ,weary they looked and jaded1 riding through night and through day2 ,pushing on east to the river1 many long miles away1 ,to the border strip where ,virginia runs up into the ,west1 ,and fording the ,upper ,ohio before they could stop to rest4 ,on like the wind they hurried1 and ,morgan rode in advance2 ,bright were his eyes like live coals1 as he gave me a sideways glance4 ,and ,i was just breathing freely1 after my choking pain1 ,when the last one of the troopers suddenly drew his rein4 ,frightened ,i was to death1 sir2 ,i scarce dared look in his face1 ,as he asked for a drink of water1 and glanced around the place4 ,i gave him a cup1 and he smiled--'twas only a boy1 you see2 ,faint and worn1 with dim blue eyes2 and he'd sailed on the ,tennessee4 ,only sixteen he was1 sir--a fond mother's only son-- ,off and away with ,morgan before his life had begun6 ,the damp drops stood on his temples2 drawn was the boyish mouth2 ,and ,i thought me of the mother waiting down in the ,south4 ,oh6 pluck was he to the backbone1 and clear grit through and through2 ,boasted and bragged like a trooper2 but the big words wouldn't do2-- ,the boy was dying1 sir1 dying as plain as plain could be1 ,worn out by his ride with ,morgan up from the ,tennessee4 ,but when ,i told the laddie that ,i too was from the ,south1 ,water came in his dim eyes1 and quivers around his mouth4 ,do you know the ,blue-,grass country8 he wistful began to say2 ,then swayed like a willow sapling1 and fainted dead away4 ,i had him into the log house1 and worked and brought him to2 ,i fed him1 and ,i coaxed him1 as ,i thought his mother'd do2 ,and when the lad got better1 and the noise in his head was gone1 ,morgan's men--were miles2 away1 galloping1 galloping on4 ,oh1 ,i must go1 he muttered2 ,i must be up and away6 ,morgan--,morgan is waiting for me2 ,oh1 what will ,morgan say8 ,but ,i heard a sound of tramping and kept him back from the door-- ,the ringing sound of horses' hoofs that ,i had heard before4 ,and on1 on1 came the soldiers--the ,michigan cavalry-- ,and fast they rode1 and black they looked1 galloping rapidly1-- ,they had followed hard on ,morgan's track2 they had followed day and night2 ,but of ,morgan and ,morgan's raiders they had never caught a sight4 ,and rich ,ohio sat startled through all those summer days2 ,for strange1 wild men were galloping over her broad highways-- ,now here1 now there1 now seen1 now gone1 now north1 now east1 now west1 ,through river-valleys and cornland farms1 sweeping away her best4 ,a bold ride and a long ride2 but they were taken at last4 ,they almost reached the river by galloping hard and fast2 ,but the boys in blue were upon them ere ever they gained the ford1 ,and ,morgan1 ,morgan the raider1 laid down his terrible sword4 ,well1 ,i kept the boy till evening--kept him against his will-- ,but he was too weak to follow1 and sat there pale and still4 ,when it was cool and dusky--you'll wonder to hear me tell-- ,but ,i stole down to that gully1 and brought up ,kentucky ,belle4 ,i kissed the star on her forehead--my pretty gentle lass-- ,but ,i knew that she'd be happy back in the old ,blue-,grass4 ,a suit of clothes of ,conrad's1 with all the money ,i had1 ,and ,kentuck1 pretty ,kentuck1 ,i gave to the worn-out lad4 ,i guided him to the southward as well as ,i know how2 ,the boy rode off with many thanks1 and many a backward bow2 ,and then the glow it faded1 and my heart began to swell1 ,as down the glen away she went1 my lost ,kentucky ,belle6 ,when ,conrad came in the evening1 the moon was shining high2 ,baby and ,i were both crying--,i couldn't tell him why-- ,but a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall1 ,and a thin old horse1 with drooping head1 stood in ,kentucky's stall4 ,well1 he was kind1 and never once said a hard word to me2 ,he knew ,i couldn't help it--'twas all for the ,tennessee1 ,but1 after the war was over1 just think what came to pass-- ,a letter1 sir2 and the two were safe back in the old ,blue-,grass4 ,the lad had got across the border1 riding ,kentucky ,belle2 ,and ,kentuck1 she was thriving1 and fat1 and hearty1 and well2 ,he cared for her1 and kept her1 nor touched her with whip or spur4 ,ah6 we've had many horses since1 but never a horse like her6 ,constance ,f4 ,woolson4 ,an ,inventor's ,wife ,i remember it all so very well1 the first of my married life1 ,that ,i can't believe it was years ago--it doesn't seem true at all2 ,why1 ,i just can see the little church where they made us man and wife1 ,and the merry glow of the first wood-fire that danced on our cottage wall4 ,we were happy8 ,yes2 and we prospered1 too2 the house belonged to ,joe1 ,and then1 he worked in the planing mill1 and drew the best of pay2 ,and our cup was full when ,joey came1--our baby-boy1 you know2 ,so1 all went well till that mill burned down and the owner moved away4 ,it wasn't long till ,joe found work1 but 'twas never quite the same1-- ,never steady1 with smaller pay2 so to make the two ends meet ,he fell to inventin' some machine--,i don't recall the name1 ,but he'd sit for hours in his little shop that opens toward the street1-- ,sit for hours1 bent over his work1 his tools all strewn about4 ,i used to want to go in there to dust and sweep the floor1 ,but 'twas just as if 'twas the parson there1 writing his sermon out2 ,even the baby--bless the child6--learned never to slam that door6 ,people called him a clever man1 and folks from the city came ,to look at his new invention and wish my ,joe success2 ,and ,joe would say1 ,little woman1--for that was my old pet-name1-- ,if my plan succeeds1 you shall have a coach and pair1 and a fine silk dress6 ,i didn't want 'em1 the grand new things1 but it made the big tears start ,to see my ,joe with his restless eyes1 his fingers worn away ,to the skin and bone1 for he wouldn't eat2 and it almost broke my heart ,when he tossed at night from side to side1 till the dawning of the day4 ,of course1 with it all he lost his place4 ,i couldn't blame the man1 ,the foreman there at the factory1 for losing faith in ,joe1 ,for his mind was never upon his work1 but on some invention-plan1 ,as with folded arms and his head bent down he wandered to and fro4 ,yet1 he kept on workin' at various things1 till our little money went ,for wheels and screws and metal casts and things ,i had never seen2 ,and ,i ceased to ask1 ,any pay1 my dear8 with the answer1 ,not a cent6 ,when his lock and his patent-saw had failed1 he clung to that great machine4 ,i remember one special thing that year4 ,he had bought some costly tool1 ,when we wanted our boy to learn to read--he was five years old1 you know2 ,he went to his class with cold1 bare feet1 till at last he came from school ,and gravely said1 ,don't send me back2 the children tease me so6 ,i hadn't the heart to cross the child1 so1 while ,i sat and sewed ,he would rock his little sister in the cradle at my side2 ,and when the struggle was hardest and ,i felt keen hunger's goad ,driving me almost to despair--the little baby died4 ,her father came to the cradle-side1 as she lay1 so small and white2 ,maggie1 he said1 ,i have killed this child1 and now ,i am killing you6 ,i swear by heaven1 ,i will give it up6 ,yet1 like a thief1 that night ,he stole to the shop and worked2 his brow all wet with a clammy dew4 ,i cannot tell how ,i lived that week1 my little boy and ,i1 ,too proud to beg2 too weak to work2 and the weather cold and wild4 ,i can only think of one dark night when the rain poured from the sky1 ,and the wind went wailing round the house1 like the ghost of my buried child4 ,joe still toiled in the little shop4 ,somebody clicked the gate2 ,a neighbor-lad brought in the mail and laid it on the floor1 ,but ,i sat half-stunned by my heavy grief crouched over the empty grate1 ,till ,i heard--the crack of a pistol-shot2 and ,i sprang to the workshop door4 ,that door was locked and the bolt shut fast4 ,i could not cry1 nor speak1 ,but ,i snatched my boy from the corner there1 sick with a sudden dread1 ,and carried him out through the garden plot1 forgetting my arms were weak1 ,forgetting the rainy torrent that beat on my bare young head2 ,the front door yielded to my touch4 ,i staggered faintly in1 ,fearing--what8 ,he stood unharmed1 though the wall showed a jagged hole4 ,in his trembling hand1 his aim had failed1 and the great and deadly sin ,of his own life's blood was not yet laid on the poor man's tortured soul4 ,but the pistol held another charge1 ,i knew2 and like something mad ,i shook my fist in my poor man's face1 and shrieked at him1 fierce and wild1 ,how can you dare to rob us so8--and ,i seized the little lad2 ,how can you dare to rob your wife and your little helpless child8 ,all of a sudden1 he bowed his head1 while from his nerveless hand ,that hung so limp1 ,i almost feared to see the pistol fall4 ,maggie1 he said in a low1 low voice1 you see me as ,i stand ,a hopeless man4 ,my plan has failed4 ,that letter tells you all4 ,then for a moment the house was still as ever the house of death2 ,only the drip of the rain outside1 for the storm was almost o'er2 ,but no2--there followed another sound1 and ,i started1 caught my breath2 ,as a stalwart man with a heavy step came in at the open door4 ,i shall always think him an angel sent from heaven in a human guise2 ,he must have guessed our awful state2 he couldn't help but see ,there was something wrong2 but never a word1 never a look in his eyes ,told what he thought1 as in kindly way he talked to ,joe and me4 ,he was come from a thriving city firm1 and they'd sent him here to say ,that one of ,joe's inventions was a great1 successful thing2 ,and which do you think8 ,his window-catch that he'd tinkered up one day2 ,and we were to have a good per cent on the sum that each would bring4 ,and then the pleasant stranger went1 and we wakened as from a dream4 ,my man bent down his head and said1 ,little woman1 you've saved my life6 ,the worn look gone from his dear gray eyes1 and in its place1 a gleam ,from the sun that has shone so brightly since1 on ,joe and his happy wife6 ,jeannie ,pendleton ,ewing4 ,the ,two ,glasses ,there sat two glasses filled to the brim ,on a rich man's table1 rim to rim1 ,one was ruddy and red as blood1 ,and one was clear as the crystal flood4 ,said the ,glass of ,wine to his paler brother3 ,let us tell tales of the past to each other2 ,i can tell of banquet and revel and mirth1 ,where ,i was king1 for ,i ruled in might2 ,for the proudest and grandest souls of earth ,fell under my touch1 as though struck with blight4 ,from the heads of kings ,i have torn the crown2 ,from the heights of fame ,i have hurled men down4 ,i have blasted many an honored name2 ,i have taken virtue and given shame2 ,i have tempted youth with a sip1 a taste1 ,that has made his future a barren waste4 ,far greater than any king am ,i1 ,or than any army beneath the sky4 ,i have made the arm of the driver fail1 ,and sent the train from the iron rail4 ,i have made good ships go down at sea4 ,and the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me4 ,fame1 strength1 wealth1 genius before me fall2 ,and my might and power are over all6 ,ho1 ho1 pale brother1 said the ,wine1 ,can you boast of deeds as great as mine8 ,said the ,water ,glass3 ,i cannot boast ,of a king dethroned1 or a murdered host2 ,but ,i can tell of hearts that were sad1 ,by my crystal drops made bright and glad2 ,of thirsts ,i have quenched and brows ,i have laved1 ,of hands ,i have cooled1 and souls ,i have saved4 ,i have leaped through the valley1 dashed down the mountain1 ,slipped from the sunshine1 and dripped from the fountain1 ,i have burst my cloud-fetters1 and dropped from the sky1 ,and everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye2 ,i have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain1 ,i have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain4 ,i can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill1 ,that ground out the flour1 and turned at my will4 ,i can tell of manhood debased by you ,that ,i have uplifted and crowned anew2 ,i cheer1 ,i help1 ,i strengthen and aid1 ,i gladden the heart of man and maid2 ,i set the wine-chained captive free1 ,and all are better for knowing me4 ,these are the tales they told each other1 ,the ,glass of ,wine1 and its paler brother1 ,as they sat together1 filled to the brim1 ,on a rich man's table1 rim to rim4 ,ella ,wheeler ,wilcox4 ,abraham ,lincoln 7,written after ,lincoln's death by ,tom ,taylor1 famous cartoonist of the ,london ,punch47 ,you lay a wreath on murdered ,lincoln's bier6 ,you1 who with mocking pencil wont to trace1 ,broad for the self-complacent ,british sneer1 ,his length of shambling limb1 his furrowed face1 ,his gaunt1 gnarled hands1 his unkempt1 bristling hair1 ,his garb uncouth1 his bearing ill at ease1 ,his lack of all we prize as debonair1 ,of power or will to shine1 of art to please6 ,you1 whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh1 ,judging each step1 as though the way were plain2 ,reckless1 so it could point its paragraph1 ,of chief's perplexity1 or people's pain6 ,beside this corpse1 that bears for winding-sheet ,the ,stars and ,stripes he lived to rear anew1 ,between the mourners at his head and feet-- ,say1 scurril jester1 is there room for you8 ,yes1 he had lived to shame me from my sneer-- ,to lame my pencil and confute my pen-- ,to make me own this hind1 of princes peer1 ,this rail-splitter1 a true-born king of men4 ,my shallow judgment ,i had learned to rue1 ,noting how to occasion's height he rose2 ,how his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true1 ,how1 iron-like1 his temper grew by blows2 ,how humble1 yet how hopeful he could be2 ,how in good fortune and in ill the same2 ,nor bitter in success1 nor boastful he1 ,thirsty for gold1 nor feverish for fame4 ,he went about his work--such work as few ,ever had laid on head1 and heart1 and hand-- ,as one who knows where there's a task to do1 ,man's honest will must ,heaven's good grace command2 ,who trusts the strength will with the burden grow1 ,that ,god makes instruments to work ,his will1 ,if but that will we can arrive to know1 ,nor tamper with the weights of good and ill4 ,so he went forth to battle1 on the side ,that he felt clear was ,liberty's and ,right's1 ,as in his peasant boyhood he had plied ,his warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights2-- ,the uncleared forest1 the unbroken soil1 ,the iron bark that turns the lumberer's axe1 ,the rapid1 that o'erbears the boatman's toil1 ,the prairie1 hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks1 ,the ambushed ,indian and the prowling bear-- ,such were the needs that helped his youth to train3 ,rough culture--but such trees large fruit may bear1 ,if but their stocks be of right girth and grain4 ,so he grew up1 a destined work to do1 ,and lived to do it3 four long1 suffering years ,ill-fate1 ill-feeling1 ill-report1 lived through1 ,and then he heard the hisses change to cheers1 ,the taunts to tribute1 the abuse to praise1 ,and took both with the same unwavering mood2 ,till1 as he came on light1 from darkling days1 ,and seemed to touch the goal from where he stood1 ,a felon hand1 between the goal and him1 ,beached from behind his back1 a trigger prest-- ,and those perplexed and patient eyes were dim1 ,those gaunt1 long-laboring limbs were laid to rest6 ,the words of mercy were upon his lips1 ,forgiveness in his heart and on his pen1 ,when this vile murderer brought swift eclipse ,to thoughts of peace on earth1 goodwill to men4 ,the ,old ,world and the ,new1 from sea to sea1 ,utter one voice of sympathy and shame6 ,sore heart1 so stopped when it at last beat high2 ,sad life1 cut short as its triumph came6 ,the ,old ,clock on the ,stairs ,somewhat back from the village street ,stands the old-fashioned country-seat2 ,across its antique portico ,tall poplar trees their shadows throw2 ,and1 from its station in the hall1 ,an ancient timepiece says to all1 ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,half-way up the stairs it stands1 ,and points and beckons with its hands1 ,from its case of massive oak1 ,like a monk who1 under his cloak1 ,crosses himself1 and sighs1 alas6 ,with sorrowful voice to all who pass1 ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,by day its voice is low and light2 ,but in the silent dead of night1 ,distinct as a passing footstep's fall1 ,it echoes along the vacant hall1 ,along the ceiling1 along the floor1 ,and seems to say at each chamber door1 ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,through days of sorrow and of mirth1 ,through days of death and days of birth1 ,through every swift vicissitude ,of changeful time1 unchanged it has stood1 ,and as if1 like ,god1 it all things saw1 ,it calmly repeats those words of awe1 ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,in that mansion used to be ,free-hearted ,hospitality2 ,his great fires up the chimney roared2 ,the stranger feasted at his board2 ,but1 like the skeleton at the feast1 ,that warning timepiece never ceased1-- ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,there groups of merry children played2 ,there youths and maidens dreaming strayed2 ,oh1 precious hours6 oh1 golden prime ,and affluence of love and time6 ,even as a miser counts his gold1 ,those hours the ancient timepiece told1-- ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,from that chamber1 clothed in white1 ,the bride came forth on her wedding night2 ,there1 in that silent room below1 ,the dead lay1 in his shroud of snow2 ,and1 in the hush that followed the prayer1 ,was heard the old clock on the stair1-- ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,all are scattered1 now1 and fled1-- ,some are married1 some are dead2 ,and when ,i ask1 with throbs of pain1 ,ah6 when shall they all meet again8 ,as in the days long since gone by1 ,the ancient timepiece makes reply1-- ,forever--never6 ,never-forever6 ,never here1 forever there1 ,where all parting1 pain1 and care1 ,and death1 and time1 shall disappear1-- ,forever there1 but never here6 ,the horologe of ,eternity ,sayeth this incessantly1-- ,forever--never6 ,never--forever6 ,h4,w4 ,longfellow4 ,christ in ,flanders ,we had forgotten ,you1 or very nearly-- ,you did not seem to touch us very nearly-- ,of course we thought about ,you now and then2 ,especially in any time of trouble-- ,we knew that you were good in time of trouble-- ,but we were very ordinary men4 ,and there were always other things to think of-- ,there's lots of things a man has got to think of-- ,his work1 his home1 his pleasure1 and his wife2 ,and so we only thought of ,you on ,sunday-- ,sometimes1 perhaps1 not even on a ,sunday-- ,because there's always lots to fill one's life4 ,and1 all the while1 in street or lane or byway-- ,in country lane1 in city street1 or byway-- ,you walked among us1 and we did not see4 ,your feet were bleeding as ,you walked our pavements-- ,how did we miss ,your footprints on our pavements8-- ,can there be other folk as blind as we8 ,now we remember2 over here in ,flanders-- 7,it isn't strange to think of ,you in ,flanders7-- ,this hideous warfare seems to make things clear4 ,we never thought about ,you much in ,england-- ,but now that we are far away from ,england-- ,we have no doubts1 we know that ,you are here4 ,you helped us pass the jest along the trenches-- ,where1 in cold blood1 we waited in the trenches-- ,you touched its ribaldry and made it fine4 ,you stood beside us in our pain and weakness-- ,we're glad to think ,you understand our weakness-- ,somehow it seems to help us not to whine4 ,we think about ,you kneeling in the ,garden-- ,ah1 ,god1 the agony of that dread ,garden-- ,we know ,you prayed for us upon the cross4 ,if anything could make us glad to bear it-- ',twould be the knowledge that ,you willed to bear it-- ,pain--death--the uttermost of human loss4 ,though we forgot ,you--,you will not forget us-- ,we feel so sure that ,you will not forget us-- ,but stay with us until this dream is past4 ,and so we ask for courage1 strength1 and pardon-- ,especially1 ,i think1 we ask for pardon-- ,and that ,you'll stand beside us to the last4 ,l4,w4 in ,london ,spectator4 ,we ,are ,seven --,a simple ,child1 ,that lightly draws its breath1 ,and feels its life in every limb1 ,what should it know of death8 ,i met a little cottage ,girl3 ,she was eight years old1 she said2 ,her hair was thick with many a curl ,that clustered round her head4 ,she had a rustic1 woodland air1 ,and she was wildly clad3 ,her eyes were fair1 and very fair2 --,her beauty made me glad4 ,sisters and brothers1 little ,maid1 ,how many may you be8 ,how many8 ,seven in all1 she said1 ,and wondering looked at me4 ,and where are they8 ,i pray you tell4 ,she answered1 ,seven are we2 ,and two of us at ,conway dwell1 ,and two are gone to sea4 ,two of us in the church-yard lie1 ,my sister and my brother2 ,and1 in the church-yard cottage1 ,i ,dwell near them with my mother4 ,you say that two at ,conway dwell1 ,and two are gone to sea1 ,yet ye are seven6--,i pray you tell1 ,sweet ,maid1 how this may be4 ,then did the little ,maid reply1 ,seven boys and girls are we2 ,two of us in the church-yard lie1 ,beneath the church-yard tree4 ,you run about1 my little ,maid1 ,your limbs they are alive2 ,if two are in the church-yard laid1 ,then ye are only five4 ,their graves are green1 they may be seen1 ,the little ,maid replied1 ,twelve steps or more from my mother's door1 ,and they are side by side4 ,my stockings there ,i often knit1 ,my kerchief there ,i hem2 ,and there upon the ground ,i sit1 ,and sing a song to them4 ,and often after sunset1 ,sir1 ,when it is light and fair1 ,i take my little porringer1 ,and eat my supper there4 ,the first that died was sister ,jane2 ,in bed she moaning lay1 ,till ,god released her of her pain2 ,and then she went away4 ,so in the church-yard she was laid2 ,and1 when the grass was dry1 ,together round her grave we played1 ,my brother ,john and ,i4 ,and when the ground was white with snow1 ,and ,i could run and slide1 ,my brother ,john was forced to go1 ,and he lies by her side4 ,how many are you1 then1 said ,i1 ,if they two are in heaven8 ,quick was the little ,maid's reply1 ,o ,master6 we are seven4 ,but they are dead2 those two are dead6 ,their spirits are in heaven6 ',t was throwing words away2 for still ,the little ,maid would have her will1 ,and said1 ,nay1 we are seven6 ,william ,wordsworth4 ,echo ,i asked of ,echo1 t'other day 7,whose words are often few and funny71 ,what to a novice she could say ,of courtship1 love and matrimony4 ,quoth ,echo plainly1--',matter-o'-money6' ,whom should ,i marry8 ,should it be ,a dashing damsel1 gay and pert1 ,a pattern of inconstancy2 ,or selfish1 mercenary flirt8 ,quoth ,echo1 sharply1--',nary flirt6' ,what if1 aweary of the strife ,that long has lured the dear deceiver1 ,she promise to amend her life1 ,and sin no more2 can ,i believe her8 ,quoth ,echo1 very promptly1--',leave her6' ,but if some maiden with a heart ,on me should venture to bestow it1 ,pray should ,i act the wiser part ,to take the treasure or forego it8 ,quoth ,echo1 with decision1--',go it6' ,but what if1 seemingly afraid ,to bind her fate in ,hymen's fetter1 ,she vow she means to die a maid1 ,in answer to my loving letter8 ,quoth ,echo1 rather coolly1-',let her6' ,what if1 in spite of her disdain1 ,i find my heart entwined about ,with ,cupid's dear1 delicious chain ,so closely that ,i can't get out8 ,quoth ,echo1 laughingly1--',get out6' ,but if some maid with beauty blest1 ,as pure and fair as ,heaven can make her1 ,will share my labor and my rest ,till envious ,death shall overtake her8 ,quoth ,echo 7sotto voce71--',take her6' ,john ,g4 ,saxe4 ,engineers ,making ,love ,it's noon when ,thirty-five is due1 ,an' she comes on time like a flash of light1 ,an' you hear her whistle ,too-tee-too6 ,long 'fore the pilot swings in sight4 ,bill ,madden's drivin' her in to-day1 ,an' he's calling his sweetheart far away-- ,gertrude ,hurd lives down by the mill2 ,you might see her blushin'2 she knows it's ,bill4 ,tudie1 tudie6 ,toot-ee6 ,tudie1 tudie6 ,tu6 ,six-five1 ,a4,m4 there's a local comes1 ,makes up at ,bristol1 runnin' east2 ,an' the way her whistle sings and hums ,is a livin' caution to man and beast4 ,every one knows who ,jack ,white calls1-- ,little ,lou ,woodbury1 down by the falls2 ,summer or ,winter1 always the same1 ,she hears her lover callin' her name-- ,lou-ie6 ,lou-ie6 ,lou-iee6 ,but at one fifty-one1 old ,sixty-four-- ,boston express1 runs east1 clear through-- ,drowns her rattle and rumble and roar ,with the softest whistle that ever blew4 ,an' away on the furthest edge of town ,sweet ,sue ,winthrop's eyes of brown ,shine like the starlight1 bright and clear1 ,when she hears the whistle of ,abel ,gear1 ,you-oo6 ,su-u-u-u-u-e6 ,along at midnight a freight comes in1 ,leaves ,berlin sometime--,i don't know when2 ,but it rumbles along with a fearful din ,till it reaches the ,y-switch there and then ,the clearest notes of the softest bell ,that out of a brazen goblet fell ,wake ,nellie ,minton out of her dreams2 ,to her like a wedding-bell it seems-- ,nell1 ,nell1 ,nell6 ,nell1 ,nell1 ,nell6 ,tom ,willson rides on the right-hand side1 ,givin' her steam at every stride2 ,an' he touches the whistle1 low an' clear1 ,for ,lulu ,gray on the hill1 to hear-- ,lu-,lu6 ,loo-,loo6 ,loo-oo6 ,so it goes all day an' all night ,till the old folks have voted the thing a bore2 ,old maids and bachelors say it ain't right ,for folks to do courtin' with such a roar4 ,but the engineers their kisses will blow ,from a whistle valve to the girls they know1 ,an' stokers the name of their sweethearts tell2 ,with the ,too-too-too and the swinging bell4 ,r4,j4 ,burdette4 ,guilty or ,not ,guilty ,she stood at the bar of justice1 ,a creature wan and wild1 ,in form too small for a woman1 ,in features too old for a child2 ,for a look so worn and pathetic ,was stamped on her pale young face1 ,it seemed long years of suffering ,must have left that silent trace4 ,your name8 said the judge1 as he eyed her ,with kindly look yet keen1-- ,is ,mary ,mc,guire1 if you please1 sir4 ,and your age8--,i am turned fifteen4 ,well1 ,mary1 and then from a paper ,he slowly and gravely read1 ,you are charged here--,i'm sorry to say it-- ,with stealing three loaves of bread4 ,you look not like an offender1 ,and ,i hope that you can show ,the charge to be false4 ,now1 tell me1 ,are you guilty of this1 or no8 ,a passionate burst of weeping ,was at first her sole reply4 ,but she dried her eyes in a moment1 ,and looked in the judge's eye4 ,i will tell you just how it was1 sir3 ,my father and mother are dead1 ,and my little brothers and sisters ,were hungry and asked me for bread4 ,at first ,i earned it for them ,by working hard all day1 ,but somehow1 times were bad1 sir1 ,and the work all fell away4 ,i could get no more employment4 ,the weather was bitter cold1 ,the young ones cried and shivered-- 7,little ,johnny's but four years old7-- ,so what was ,i to do1 sir8 ,i am guilty1 but do not condemn4 ,i took--oh1 was it stealing8-- ,the bread to give to them4 ,every man in the court-room-- ,gray-beard and thoughtless youth-- ,knew1 as he looked upon her1 ,that the prisoner spake the truth2 ,out from their pockets came kerchiefs1 ,out from their eyes sprung tears1 ,and out from their old faded wallets ,treasures hoarded for years4 ,the judge's face was a study1 ,the strangest you ever saw1 ,as he cleared his throat and murmured ,something about the law2 ,for one so learned in such matters1 ,so wise in dealing with men1 ,he seemed1 on a simple question1 ,sorely puzzled1 just then4 ,but no one blamed him or wondered1 ,when at last these words he heard1 ,the sentence of this young prisoner ,is1 for the present1 deferred4 ,and no one blamed him or wondered ,when he went to her and smiled ,and tenderly led from the court-room1 ,himself1 the guilty child4 ,the ,baby ,where did you come from1 baby dear8 ,out of the everywhere into the here4 ,where did you get your eyes so blue8 ,out of the sky as ,i came through4 ,what makes the light in them sparkle and spin8 ,some of the starry spikes left in4 ,where did you get that little tear8 ,i found it waiting when ,i got here4 ,what makes your forehead so smooth and high8 ,a soft hand stroked it as ,i went by4 ,what makes your cheek like a warm white rose8 ,something better than anyone knows4 ,whence that three-cornered smile of bliss8 ,three angels gave me at once a kiss4 ,where did you get that pearly ear8 ,god spoke1 and it came out to hear4 ,where did you get those arms and hands8 ,love made itself into hooks and bands4 ,feet1 whence did you come1 you darling things8 ,from the same box as the cherubs' wings4 ,how did they all just come to be you8 ,god thought about me1 and so ,i grew4 ,but how did you come to us1 you dear8 ,god thought of you1 and so ,i am here4 ,george ,macdonald4 ,song of the ,sea ,the sea6 the sea6 the open sea6 ,the blue1 the fresh1 the ever free6 ,without a mark1 without a bound1 ,it runneth the earth's wide regions round2 ,it plays with the clouds2 it mocks the skies1 ,or like a cradled creature lies4 ,i'm on the sea6 ,i'm on the sea6 ,i am where ,i would ever be2 ,with the blue above and the blue below1 ,and silence wheresoe'er ,i go4 ,if a storm should come and awake the deep ,what matter8 ,i shall ride and sleep4 ,i love1 oh1 how ,i love to ride ,on the fierce1 foaming1 bursting tide1 ,when every mad wave drowns the moon1 ,or whistles aloud his tempest tune1 ,and tells how goeth the world below1 ,and why the southwest blasts do blow4 ,i never was on the dull1 tame shore1 ,but ,i loved the great sea more and more1 ,and back ,i flew to her billowy breast1 ,like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest2 ,and a mother she was1 and is1 to me1 ,for ,i was born on the open sea6 ,i've lived1 since then1 in calm and strife1 ,full fifty summers a sailor's life1 ,with wealth to spend and a power to range1 ,but never have sought nor sighed for change2 ,and ,death1 whenever he comes to me1 ,shall come on the wild1 unbounded sea4 ,barry ,cornwall4 ,diffidence ,i'm after axin'1 ,biddy dear-- ,and here he paused a while ,to fringe his words the merest mite ,with something of a smile-- ,a smile that found its image ,in a face of beauteous mold1 ,whose liquid eyes were peeping ,from a broidery of gold4 ,i've come to ax ye1 ,biddy dear1 ,if-- then he stopped again1 ,as if his heart had bubbled o'er ,and overflowed his brain4 ,his lips were twitching nervously ,o'er what they had to tell1 ,and timed the quavers with the eyes ,that gently rose and fell4 ,i've come-- and then he took her hands ,and held them in his own1 ,to ax-- and then he watched the buds ,that on her cheeks had blown1-- ,me purty dear-- and then he heard ,the throbbing of her heart1 ,that told how love had entered in ,and claimed its every part4 ,och6 don't be tazin' me1 said she1 ,with just the faintest sigh1 ,i've sinse enough to see you've come1 ,but what's the reason why8 ,to ax-- and once again the tongue ,forbore its sweets to tell1 ,to ax--if ,mrs4 ,mulligan1 ,has any pigs to sell4 ,curfew ,must ,not ,ring ,to-night ,slowly ,england's sun was setting o'er the hilltops far away1 ,filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day1 ,and the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair1-- ,he with footsteps slow and weary1 she with sunny floating hair2 ,he with bowed head1 sad and thoughtful1 she with lips all cold and white1 ,struggling to keep back the murmur1 ,curfew must not ring to-night4 ,sexton1 ,bessie's white lips faltered1 pointing to the prison old1 ,with its turrets tall and gloomy1 with its walls dark1 damp and cold1 ,i've a lover in that prison1 doomed this very night to die ,at the ringing of the curfew1 and no earthly help is nigh2 ,cromwell will not come till sunset1 and her lips grew strangely white ,as she breathed the husky whisper3 ,curfew must not ring to-night4 ,bessie1 calmly spoke the sexton--every word pierced her young heart ,like the piercing of an arrow1 like a deadly poisoned dart1-- ,long1 long years ,i've rung the curfew from that gloomy shadowed tower2 ,every evening1 just at sunset1 it has told the twilight hour2 ,i have done my duty ever1 tried to do it just and right2 ,now ,i'm old ,i will not falter1--curfew1 it must ring to-night4 ,wild her eyes and pale her features1 stern and white her thoughtful brow4 ,as within her secret bosom ,bessie made a solemn vow4 ,she had listened while the judges read without a tear or sigh3 ,at the ringing of the curfew1 ,basil ,underwood must die4 ,and her breath came fast and faster1 and her eyes grew large and bright2 ,in an undertone she murmured1 ,curfew must not ring to-night4 ,with quick step she bounded forward1 sprung within the old church door1 ,left the old man treading slowly paths so oft he'd trod before2 ,not one moment paused the maiden1 but with eye and cheek aglow ,mounted up the gloomy tower1 where the bell swung to and fro1-- ,as she climbed the dusty ladder on which fell no ray of light1 ,up and up1--her white lips saying3 ,curfew must not ring to-night4 ,she has reached the topmost ladder2 o'er her hangs the great1 dark bell2 ,awful is the gloom beneath her1 like the pathway down to hell4 ,lo1 the ponderous tongue is swinging--'tis the hour of curfew now1 ,and the sight has chilled her bosom1 stopped her breath and paled her brow4 ,shall she let it ring8 ,no1 never6 flash her eyes with sudden light1 ,as she springs and grasps it firmly--,curfew shall not ring to-night6 ,out she swung--far out2 the city seemed a speck of light below1 ,there 'twixt heaven and earth suspended as the bell swung to and fro2 ,and the sexton at the bell-rope1 old and deaf1 heard not the bell1 ,sadly thought1 ,that twilight curfew rang young ,basil's funeral knell4 ,still the maiden clung more firmly1 and with trembling lips so white1 ,said1 to hush her heart's wild throbbing3 ,curfew shall not ring to-night4 ,it was o'er2 the bell ceased swaying1 and the maiden stepped once more ,firmly on the dark old ladder where1 for hundred years before ,human foot had not been planted4 ,the brave deed that she had done ,should be told long ages after2 as the rays of setting sun ,crimson all the sky with beauty1 aged sires with heads of white1 ,tell the eager1 listening children1 ,curfew did not ring that night4 ,o'er the distant hills came ,cromwell2 ,bessie sees him1 and her brow1 ,lately white with fear and anguish1 has no anxious traces now4 ,at his feet she tells her story1 shows her hands all bruised and torn2 ,and her face so sweet and pleading1 yet with sorrow pale and worn1 ,touched his heart with sudden pity1 lit his eyes with misty light3 ,go6 your lover lives1 said ,cromwell1 ,curfew shall not ring to-night4 ,wide they flung the massive portal2 led the prisoner forth to die1-- ,all his bright young life before him4 ',neath the darkening ,english sky ,bessie comes with flying footsteps1 eyes aglow with love-light sweet2 ,kneeling on the turf beside him1 lays his pardon at his feet4 ,in his brave1 strong arms he clasped her1 kissed the face upturned and white1 ,whispered1 ,darling1 you have saved me--curfew will not ring to-night4 ,rose ,hartwick ,thorpe4 ,kate ,shelly ,have you heard how a girl saved the lightning express-- ,of ,kate ,shelly1 whose father was killed on the road8 ,were he living to-day1 he'd be proud to possess ,such a daughter as ,kate4 ,ah6 'twas grit that she showed ,on that terrible evening when ,donahue's train ,jumped the bridge and went down1 in the darkness and rain4 ,she was only eighteen1 but a woman in size1 ,with a figure as graceful and lithe as a doe1 ,with peach-blossom cheeks1 and with violet eyes1 ,and teeth and complexion like new-fallen snow2 ,with a nature unspoiled and unblemished by art-- ,with a generous soul1 and a warm1 noble heart6 ',tis evening--the darkness is dense and profound2 ,men linger at home by their bright-blazing fires2 ,the wind wildly howls with a horrible sound1 ,and shrieks through the vibrating telegraph wires2 ,the fierce lightning flashes along the dark sky2 ,the rain falls in torrents2 the river rolls by4 ,the scream of a whistle2 the rush of a train6 ,the sound of a bell6 a mysterious light ,that flashes and flares through the fast falling rain6 ,a rumble6 a roar6 shrieks of human affright6 ,the falling of timbers6 the space of a breath6 ,a splash in the river2 then darkness and death6 ,kate ,shelly recoils at the terrible crash2 ,the sounds of destruction she happens to hear2 ,she springs to the window--she throws up the sash1 ,and listens and looks with a feeling of fear4 ,the tall tree-tops groan1 and she hears the faint cry ,of a drowning man down in the river near by4 ,her heart feebly flutters1 her features grow wan1 ,and then through her soul in a moment there flies ,a forethought that gives her the strength of a man-- ,she turns to her trembling old mother and cries3 ,i must save the express--'twill be here in an hour6 ,then out through the door disappears in the shower4 ,she flies down the track through the pitiless rain2 ,she reaches the river--the water below ,whirls and seethes through the timbers4 ,she shudders again2 ,the bridge6 ,to ,moingona1 ,god help me to go6 ,then closely about her she gathers her gown ,and on the wet ties with a shiver sinks down4 ,then carefully over the timbers she creeps ,on her hands and knees1 almost holding her breath4 ,the loud thunder peals and the wind wildly sweeps1 ,and struggles to hurry her downward to death2 ,but the thought of the train to destruction so near ,removes from her soul every feeling of fear4 ,with the blood dripping down from each torn1 bleeding limb1 ,slowly over the timbers her dark way she feels2 ,her fingers grow numb and her head seems to swim2 ,her strength is fast failing--she staggers6 she reels6 ,she falls--,ah6 the danger is over at last1 ,her feet touch the earth1 and the long bridge is passed6 ,in an instant new life seems to come to her form2 ,she springs to her feet and forgets her despair4 ,on1 on to ,moingona6 she faces the storm1 ,she reaches the station--the keeper is there1 ,save the lightning express6 ,no--hang out the red light6 ,there's death on the bridge at the river to-night6 ,out flashes the signal-light1 rosy and red2 ,then sounds the loud roar of the swift-coming train1 ,the hissing of steam1 and there1 brightly ahead1 ,the gleam of a headlight illumines the rain4 ,down brakes6 shrieks the whistle1 defiant and shrill2 ,she heeds the red signal--she slackens1 she's still6 ,ah6 noble ,kate ,shelly1 your mission is done2 ,your deed that dark night will not fade from our gaze2 ,an endless renown you have worthily won2 ,let the nation be just1 and accord you its praise1 ,let your name1 let your fame1 and your courage declare ,what a woman can do1 and a woman can dare6 ,eugene ,j4 ,hall4 ,there's ,but ,one ,pair of ,stockings to ,mend ,to-,night ,an old wife sat by her bright fireside1 ,swaying thoughtfully to and fro ,in an easy chair1 whose creaky craw ,told a tale of long ago2 ,while down by her side1 on the kitchen floor1 ,stood a basket of worsted balls--a score4 ,the good man dozed o'er the latest news ,till the light in his pipe went out2 ,and1 unheeded1 the kitten with cunning paws ,rolled and tangled the balls about2 ,yet still sat the wife in the ancient chair1 ,swaying to and fro in the fire-light glare4 ,but anon1 a misty teardrop came ,in her eyes of faded blue1 ,then trickled down in a furrow deep ,like a single drop of dew2 ,so deep was the channel--so silent the stream-- ,that the good man saw naught but the dimmed eye-beam4 ,yet marveled he much that the cheerful light ,of her eye had heavy grown1 ,and marveled he more at the tangled balls1 ,so he said in a gentle tone3 ,i have shared thy joys since our marriage vow1 ,conceal not from me thy sorrows now4 ,then she spoke of the time when the basket there ,was filled to the very brim2 ,and now1 there remained of the goodly pile ,but a single pair--for him2 ,then wonder not at the dimmed eye-light1 ,there's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night4 ,i cannot but think of the busy feet ,whose wrappings were wont to lay ,in the basket1 awaiting the needle's time-- ,now wandering so far away2 ,how the sprightly steps to a mother dear1 ,unheeded fell on the careless ear4 ,for each empty nook in the basket old ,by the hearth there's a vacant seat2 ,and ,i miss the shadows from off the wall1 ,and the patter of many feet2 ',tis for this that a tear gathered over my sight1 ,at the one pair of stockings to mend to-night4 ',twas said that far through the forest wild1 ,and over the mountains bold1 ,was a land whose rivers and darkening caves ,were gemmed with the rarest gold2 ,then my first-born turned from the oaken door-- ,and ,i knew the shadows were only four4 ,another went forth on the foaming wave1 ,and diminished the basket's store2 ,but his feet grew cold--so weary and cold1 ,they'll never be warm any more4 ,and this nook1 in its emptiness1 seemeth to me ,to give forth no voice but the moan of the sea4 ,two others have gone toward the setting sun1 ,and made them a home in its light1 ,and fairy fingers have taken their share1 ,to mend by the fireside bright2 ,some other baskets their garments will fill-- ,but mine1 ah1 mine is emptier still4 ,another--the dearest1 the fairest1 the best-- ,was taken by angels away1 ,and clad in a garment that waxeth not old1 ,in a land of continual day2 ,oh6 wonder no more at the dimmed eye-light1 ,when ,i mend the one pair of stockings to-night4 ,the ,young ,man ,waited ,in the room below the young man sat1 ,with an anxious face and a white cravat1 ,a throbbing heart and a silken hat1 ,and various other things like that ,which he had accumulated4 ,and the maid of his heart was up above ,surrounded by hat and gown and glove1 ,and a thousand things which women love1 ,but no man knoweth the names thereof-- ,and the young man sat and--waited4 ,you will scarce believe the things ,i tell1 ,but the truth thereof ,i know full well1 ,though how may not be stated2 ,but ,i swear to you that the maiden took ,a sort of half-breed1 thin stove-hook1 ,and heated it well in the gaslight there4 ,and thrust it into her head1 or hair4 ,then she took something off the bed1 ,and hooked it onto her hair1 or head1 ,and piled it high1 and piled it higher1 ,and drove it home with staples of wire6 ,and the young man anxiously--waited4 ,then she took a thing she called a puff ,and some very peculiar whitish stuff1 ,and using about a half a peck1 ,she spread it over her face and neck1 7,deceit was a thing she hated67 ,and she looked as fair as a lilied bower1 ,or a pound of lard or a sack of flour2-- ,and the young man wearily--waited4 ,then she took a garment of awful shape ,and it wasn't a waist1 nor yet a cape1 ,but it looked like a piece of ancient mail1 ,or an instrument from a ,russian jail1 ,and then with a fearful groan and gasp1 ,she squeezed herself in its deathly clasp-- ,so fair and yet so fated6 ,and then with a move like ,i don't know what1 ,she tied it on with a double knot2-- ,and the young man wofully--waited4 ,then she put on a dozen different things1 ,a mixture of buttons and hooks and strings1 ,till she strongly resembled a notion store2 ,then1 taking some seventeen pins or more1 ,she thrust them into her ruby lips1 ,then stuck them around from waist to hips1 ,and never once hesitated4 ,and the maiden didn't know1 perhaps1 ,that the man below had had seven naps1 ,and that now he sleepily--waited4 ,and then she tried to put on her hat1 ,ah me1 a trying ordeal was that6 ,she tipped it high and she tried it low1 ,but every way that the thing would go ,only made her more agitated4 ,it wouldn't go straight and it caught her hair1 ,and she wished she could hire a man to swear1 ,but alas1 the only man lingering there ,was the one who wildly--waited4 ,and then before she could take her leave1 ,she had to puff up her monstrous sleeve4 ,then a little dab here and a wee pat there4 ,and a touch or two to her hindmost hair1 ,then around the room with the utmost care ,she thoughtfully circulated4 ,then she seized her gloves and a chamoiskin1 ,some breath perfume and a long stickpin1 ,a bonbon box and a cloak and some ,eau-de-cologne and chewing-gum1 ,her opera glass and sealskin muff1 ,a fan and a heap of other stuff2 ,then she hurried down1 but ere she spoke1 ,something about the maiden broke4 ,so she scurried back to the winding stair1 ,and the young man looked in wild despair1 ,and then he--evaporated4 ,edmund ,vance ,cooke4 ,invictus ,out of the night that covers me1 ,black as the ,pit from pole to pole1 ,i thank whatever gods may be ,for my unconquerable soul4 ,in the fell clutch of circumstance ,i have not winced nor cried aloud4 ,under the bludgeonings of chance ,my head is bloody1 but unbowed4 ,beyond this place of wrath and tears ,looms but the ,horror of the shade1 ,and yet the menace of the years ,finds1 and shall find1 me unafraid4 ,it matters not how strait the gate1 ,how charged with punishments the scroll1 ,i am the master of my fate2 ,i am the captain of my soul4 ,william ,e4 ,henley4 ,katie ,lee and ,willie ,grey ,two brown heads with tossing curls1 ,red lips shutting over pearls1 ,bare feet1 white and wet with dew1 ,two eyes black1 and two eyes blue2 ,little girl and boy were they1 ,katie ,lee and ,willie ,grey4 ,they were standing where a brook1 ,bending like a shepherd's crook1 ,flashed its silver1 and thick ranks ,of willow fringed its mossy banks2 ,half in thought1 and half in play1 ,katie ,lee and ,willie ,grey4 ,they had cheeks like cherries red2 ,he was taller--'most a head2 ,she1 with arms like wreaths of snow1 ,swung a basket to and fro ,as she loitered1 half in play1 ,chattering to ,willie ,grey4 ,pretty ,katie1 ,willie said-- ,and there came a dash of red ,through the brownness of his cheek-- ,boys are strong and girls are weak1 ,and ,i'll carry1 so ,i will1 ,katie's basket up the hill4 ,katie answered with a laugh1 ,you shall carry only half2 ,and then1 tossing back her curls1 ,boys are weak as well as girls4 ,do you think that ,katie guessed ,half the wisdom she expressed8 ,men are only boys grown tall2 ,hearts don't change much1 after all2 ,and when1 long years from that day1 ,katie ,lee and ,willie ,grey ,stood again beside the brook1 ,bending like a shepherd's crook1-- ,is it strange that ,willie said1 ,while again a dash of red ,crossed the brownness of his cheek1 ,i am strong and you are weak2 ,life is but a slippery steep1 ,hung with shadows cold and deep4 ,will you trust me1 ,katie dear1-- ,walk beside me without fear8 ,may ,i carry1 if ,i will1 ,all your burdens up the hill8 ,and she answered1 with a laugh1 ,no1 but you may carry half4 ,close beside the little brook1 ,bending like a shepherd's crook1 ,washing with its silver hands ,late and early at the sands1 ,is a cottage1 where to-day ,katie lives with ,willie ,grey4 ,in a porch she sits1 and lo6 ,swings a basket to and fro-- ,vastly different from the one ,that she swung in years agone1 ,this is long and deep and wide1 ,and has--rockers at the side4 ,abou ,ben ,adhem ,abou ,ben ,adhem--may his tribe increase6-- ,awoke one night from a deep dream of peace1 ,and saw1 within the moonlight in his room1 ,making it rich1 and like a lily in bloom1 ,an angel1 writing in a book of gold4 ,exceeding peace had made ,ben ,adhem bold1 ,and to the ,presence in the room he said1 ,what writest thou8 ,the vision raised its head1 ,and1 with a look made all of sweet accord1 ,answered1 ,the names of those who love the ,lord4 ,and is mine one8 said ,abou4 ,nay1 not so1 ,replied the angel4--,abou spoke more low1 ,but cheerily still2 and said1 ,i pray thee1 then1 ,write me as one that loves his fellow-men4 ,the angel wrote1 and vanished4 ,the next night ,it came again1 with a great wakening light1 ,and showed the names whom love of ,god had blessed3 ,and1 lo6 ,ben ,adhem's name led all the rest4 ,leigh ,hunt4 ,in ,school-,days ,still sits the school-house by the road1 ,a ragged beggar sunning2 ,around it still the sumachs grow1 ,and blackberry vines are running4 ,within1 the master's desk is seen1 ,deep scarred by raps official2 ,the warping floor1 the battered seats1 ,the jack-knife's carved initial2 ,the charcoal frescoes on its wall2 ,its door's worn sill1 betraying ,the feet that1 creeping slow to school1 ,went storming out to playing6 ,long years ago a winter sun ,shone over it at setting2 ,lit up its western window-panes1 ,and low eaves' icy fretting4 ,it touched the tangled golden curls1 ,and brown eyes full of grieving1 ,of one who still her steps delayed ,when all the school were leaving4 ,for near her stood the little boy ,her childish favor singled3 ,his cap pulled low upon a face ,where pride and shame were mingled4 ,pushing with restless feet the snow ,to right and left1 he lingered2-- ,as restlessly her tiny hands ,the blue-checked apron fingered4 ,he saw her lift her eyes2 he felt ,the soft hand's light caressing1 ,and heard the tremble of her voice1 ,as if a fault confessing4 ,i'm sorry that ,i spelt the word3 ,i hate to go above you1 ,because1--the brown eyes lower fell1-- ,because1 you see1 ,i love you6 ,still memory to a gray-haired man ,that sweet child-face is showing4 ,dear girl3 the grasses on her grave ,have forty years been growing6 ,he lives to learn1 in life's hard school1 ,how few who pass above him ,lament their triumph and his loss1 ,like her1--because they love him4 ,john ,greenleaf ,whittier4 ,mother's ,fool ,tis plain to see1 said a farmer's wife1 ,these boys will make their mark in life2 ,they were never made to handle a hoe1 ,and at once to a college ought to go2 ,there's ,fred1 he's little better than a fool1 ,but ,john and ,henry must go to school4 ,well1 really1 wife1 quoth ,farmer ,brown1 ,as he set his mug of cider down1 ,fred does more work in a day for me ,than both his brothers do in three4 ,book larnin' will never plant one's corn1 ,nor hoe potatoes1 sure's you're born2 ,nor mend a rod of broken fence-- ,for my part1 give me common sense4 ,but his wife was bound the roost to rule1 ,and ,john and ,henry were sent to school1 ,while ,fred1 of course1 was left behind1 ,because his mother said he had no mind4 ,five years at school the students spent2 ,then into business each one went4 ,john learned to play the flute and fiddle1 ,and parted his hair1 of course1 in the middle2 ,while his brother looked rather higher than he1 ,and hung out a sign1 ,h4 ,brown1 ,m4,d4 ,meanwhile1 at home1 their brother ,fred ,had taken a notion into his head2 ,but he quietly trimmed his apple trees1 ,and weeded onions and planted peas1 ,while somehow or other1 by hook or crook1 ,he managed to read full many a book2 ,until at last his father said ,he was getting book larnin' into his head2 ,but for all that1 added ,farmer ,brown1 ,he's the smartest boy there is in town4 ,the war broke out1 and ,captain ,fred ,a hundred men to battle led1 ,and when the rebel flag came down1 ,went marching home as ,general ,brown4 ,but he went to work on the farm again1 ,and planted corn and sowed his grain2 ,he shingled the barn and mended the fence1 ,till people declared he had common sense4 ,now common sense was very rare1 ,and the ,state ,house needed a portion there2 ,so the family dunce moved into town-- ,the people called him ,governor ,brown2 ,and the brothers who went to the city school ,came home to live with mother's fool4 ,kentucky ,philosophy ,you ,wi'yam1 cum 'ere1 suh1 dis instunce4 ,wu' dat you got under dat box8 ,i do' want no foolin'--you hear me8 ,wut you say8 ,ain't nu'h'n but rocks8 ',peah ter me you's owdashus p'ticler4 ,s'posin' dey's uv a new kine4 ,i'll des take a look at dem rocks4 ,hi yi6 der you think dat ,i's bline8 ,i calls dat a plain water-million1 you scamp1 en ,i knows whah it growed2 ,it come fum de ,jimmerson cawn fiel'1 dah on ter side er de road4 ,you stole it1 you rascal--you stole it6 ,i watched you fum down in de lot4 ,en time ,i gets th'ough wid you1 nigger1 you won't eb'n be a grease spot6 ,i'll fix you4 ,mirandy6 ,mirandy6 go cut me a hick'ry--make 'ase6 ,en cut me de toughes' en keenes' you c'n fine anywhah on de place4 ,i'll larn you1 ,mr4 ,wi'yam ,joe ,vetters1 ter steal en ter lie1 you young sinner1 ,disgracin' yo' ole ,christian mammy1 en makin' her leave cookin' dinner6 ,now ain't you ashamed er yo'se'lf sur8 ,i is1 ,i's 'shamed you's my son6 ,en de holy accorjan angel he's 'shamed er wut you has done2 ,en he's tuk it down up yander in coal-black1 blood-red letters-- ,one water-million stoled by ,wi'yam ,josephus ,vetters4 ,en wut you s'posen ,brer ,bascom1 yo' teacher at ,sunday school1 ',ud say ef he knowed how you's broke de good ,lawd's ,gol'n ,rule8 ,boy1 whah's de raisin' ,i give you8 ,is you boun' fuh ter be a black villiun8 ,i's s'prised dat a chile er yo mammy 'ud steal any man's water-million4 ,en ,i's now gwinter cut it right open1 en you shain't have nary bite1 ,fuh a boy who'll steal water-millions--en dat in de day's broad light-- ,ain't--,lawdy6 it's green6 ,mirandy6 ,mi-ran-dy6 come on wi' dat switch6 ,well1 stealin' a g-r-e-e-n water-million6 who ever yeered tell er des sich8 ,cain't tell w'en dey's ripe8 ,w'y you thump 'um1 en w'en dey go pank dey is green2 ,but w'en dey go punk1 now you mine me1 dey's ripe--en dat's des wut ,i mean4 ,en nex' time you hook water-millions--you heered me1 you ign'ant1 you hunk1 ,ef you do' want a lickin' all over1 be sho dat dey allers go punk6 ,harrison ,robertson4 ,give ,us ,men ,god give us men2 a time like this demands ,strong minds1 great hearts1 true faith and ready hands4 ,men whom the lust of office cannot kill2 ,men whom the spoils of office cannot buy2 ,men who possess opinions and a will2 ,men who have honor2 men who will not lie2 ,men who can stand before a demagogue1 ,and brave his treacherous flatteries without winking2 ,tall men1 sun-crowned1 who live above the fog1 ,in public duty and in private thinking2 ,for while the rabble1 with its thumb-worn creeds1 ,its large professions1 and its little deeds1 ,mingle in selfish strife--lo6 ,freedom weeps1 ,wrong rules the land1 and waiting ,justice sleeps4 ,j4,g4 ,holland4 ,never ,trouble ,trouble ,my good man is a clever man1 which no one will gainsay2 ,he lies awake to plot and plan 'gainst lions in the way1 ,while ,i1 without a thought of ill1 sleep sound enough for three1 ,for ,i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me4 ,a holiday we never fix but he is sure 'twill rain2 ,and when the sky is clear at six he knows it won't remain4 ,he is always prophesying ill to which ,i won't agree1 ,for ,i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me4 ,the wheat will never show a top--but soon how green the field6 ,we will not harvest half a crop--yet have a famous yield6 ,it will not sell1 it never will6 but ,i will wait and see1 ,for ,i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me4 ,we have a good share of worldly gear1 and fortune seems secure1 ,yet my good man is full of fear--misfortune's coming sure6 ,he points me out the almshouse hill1 but cannot make me see1 ,for ,i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me4 ,he has a sort of second sights and when the fit is strong1 ,he sees beyond the good and right the evil and the wrong4 ,heaven's cop of joy he'll surely spill unless ,i with him be1 ,for ,i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me4 ,fannie ,windsor4 ,what is ,good ,what is the real good8 ,i asked in musing mood4 ,order1 said the law court2 ,knowledge1 said the school2 ,truth1 said the wise man2 ,pleasure1 said the fool2 ,love1 said the maiden2 ,beauty1 said the page2 ,freedom1 said the dreamer2 ,home1 said the sage2 ,fame1 said the soldier2 ,equity1 the seer4 ,spake my heart full sadly3 ,the answer is not here4 ,then within my bosom ,softly this ,i heard3 ,each heart holds the secret3 ,kindness is the word4 ,john ,boyle ,o',reilly4 ,the ,penny ,ye ,mean to ,gie ,there's a funny tale 'of a stingy man1 ,who was none too good but might have been worse1 ,who went to his church1 on a ,sunday night ,and carried along his well-filled purse4 ,when the sexton came with the begging plate1 ,the church was but dim with the candle's light2 ,the stingy man fumbled all thro' his purse1 ,and chose a coin by touch and not by sight4 ,it's an odd thing now that guineas should be ,so like unto pennies in shape and size4 ,i'll gie a penny1 the stingy man said3 ,the poor must not gifts of pennies despise4 ,the penny fell down with a clatter and ring6 ,and back in his seat leaned the stingy man4 ,the world is full of the poor1 he thought1 ,i can't help them all--,i give what ,i can4 ,ha6 ha6 how the sexton smiled1 to be sure1 ,to see the gold guinea fall in the plate2 ,ha6 ha6 how the stingy man's heart was wrung1 ,perceiving his blunder--but just too late6 ,no matter1 he said2 in the ,lord's account ,that guinea of gold is set down to me-- ,they lend to him who give to the poor2 ,it will not so bad an investment be4 ,na1 na1 mon1 the chuckling sexton cried out1 ,the ,lord is na cheated--he kens thee well2 ,he knew it was only by accident ,that out o' thy fingers the guinea fell6 ,he keeps an account1 na doubt1 for the puir2 ,but in that account ,he'll set down to thee ,na mair o' that golden guinea1 my mon1 ,than the one bare penny ye mean to gie6 ,there's comfort1 too1 in the little tale-- ,a serious side as well as a joke-- ,a comfort for all the generous poor ,in the comical words the sexton spoke2 ,a comfort to think that the good ,lord knows ,how generous we really desire to be1 ,and will give us credit in his account1 ,for all the pennies we long to gie4 ,leedle ,yawcob ,strauss ,i haf von funny leedle poy ,vot gomes shust to my knee1-- ,der queerest schap1 der createst rogue ,as efer you dit see4 ,he runs1 und schumps1 und schmashes dings ,in all barts off der house4 ,but vot off dot8 ,he vas mine son1 ,mine leedle ,yawcob ,strauss4 ,he gets der measels und der mumbs1 ,und eferyding dot's oudt2 ,he sbills mine glass off lager bier1 ,poots schnuff indo mine kraut2 ,he fills mine pipe mit ,limburg cheese-- ,dot vas der roughest chouse2 ,i'd dake dot vrom no oder poy ,but leedle ,yawcob ,strauss4 ,he dakes der milkban for a dhrum1 ,und cuts mine cane in dwo ,to make der schticks to beat it mit-- ,mine cracious1 dot vas drue6 ,i dinks mine hed vas schplit abart ,he kicks oup sooch a touse2 ,but nefer mind der poys vas few ,like dot young ,yawcob ,strauss4 ,he asks me questions sooch as dese3 ,who baints mine nose so red8 ,who vos it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt ,vrom der hair ubon mine hed8 ,und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp ,vene'er der glim ,i douse8 ,how gan ,i all dese dings eggsblain ,to dot schmall ,yawcob ,strauss8 ,i somedimes dink ,i schall go vild ,mit sooch a grazy poy1 ,und vish vonce more ,i gould haf rest ,und beaceful dimes enshoy4 ,but ven he vas asleep in ped1 ,so quiet as a mouse1 ,i prays der ,lord1 ,dake any dings1 ,but leaf dot ,yawcob ,strauss4 ,charles ,f4 ,adams4 ,to-day ,we shall do so much in the years to come1 ,but what have we done to-day8 ,we shall give out gold in princely sum1 ,but what did we give to-day8 ,we shall lift the heart and dry the tear1 ,we shall plant a hope in the place of fear1 ,we shall speak with words of love and cheer1 ,but what have we done to-day8 ,we shall be so kind in the after while1 ,but what have we been to-day8 ,we shall bring to each lonely life a smile1 ,but what have we brought to-day8 ,we shall give to truth a grander birth1 ,and to steadfast faith a deeper worth1 ,we shall feed the hungering souls of earth1 ,but whom have we fed to-day8 ,nixon ,waterman4 ,so ,was ,i ,my name is ,tommy1 an' ,i hates ,that feller of my sister ,kate's1 ,he's bigger'n ,i am an' you see ,he's sorter lookin' down on me1 ,an' ,i resents it with a vim2 ,i think ,i am just as good as him4 ,he's older1 an' he's mighty fly1 ,but's he's a kid1 an' so am ,i4 ,one time he came1--down by the gate1 ,i guess it must have been awful late1-- ,an' ,katie1 she was there1 an' they ,was feelin' very nice and gay1 ,an' he was talkin' all the while ,about her sweet an' lovin' smile1 ,an' everythin' was as nice as pie1 ,an' they was there1 an' so was ,i4 ,they didn't see me1 'cause ,i slid ,down underneath a bush1 an' hid1 ,an' he was sayin' that his love ,was greater'n all the stars above ,up in the glorious heavens placed2 ,an' then ,his arms got 'round her waist1 ,an' clouds were floatin' in the sky1 ,and they was there1 an' so was ,i4 ,i didn't hear just all they said1 ,but by an' by my sister's head ,was droopin' on his shoulder1 an' ,i seen him holdin' ,katie's hand1 ,an' then he hugged her closer1 some1 ,an' then ,i heerd a kiss--yum1 yum2 ,an' ,katie blushed an' drew a sigh1 ,an' sorter coughed1--an' so did ,i4 ,an' then that feller looked around ,an' seed me there1 down on the ground1 ,an'--was he mad8 well1 betcher boots ,i gets right out of there an' scoots4 ,an' he just left my sister ,kate ,a-standin' right there by the gate2 ,an' ,i seen blood was in his eye1 ,an' he runned fast--an' so did ,i4 ,i runned the very best ,i could1 ,but he cotched up--,i's 'fraid he would-- ,an' then he said he'd teach me how ,to know my manners1 he'd allow2 ,an' then he shaked me awful4 ,gee6 ,he jest--he frashed the ground with me4 ,an' then he stopped it by and by1 ',cause he was tired--an' so was ,i1 ,an' then he went back to the gate ,an' couldn't find my sister ,kate ',cause she went in to bed1 while he ,was runnin' 'round an' thumpin' me4 ,i got round in a shadder dim1 ,an' made a face1 an' guffed at him2 ,an' then the moon larfed1 in the sky1 ',cause he was there1 an' so was ,i4 ,joseph ,bert ,smiley4 ,is ,it ,worth ,while8 ,is it worth while that we jostle a brother4 ,bearing his load on the rough road of life8 ,is it worth while that we jeer at each other ,in blackness of heart that we war to the knife8 ,god pity us all in our pitiful strife4 ,god pity as all as we jostle each other2 ,god pardon us all for the triumph we feel ,when a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather1 ,pierced to the heart3 ,words are keener than steel1 ,and mightier far for woe than for weal1 ,were it not well1 in this brief little journey ,on over the isthmus1 down into the tide1 ,we give him a fish instead of a serpent1 ,ere folding the hands to be and abide ,forever and aye in dust at his side8 ,look at the roses saluting each other2 ,look at the herds all at peace on the plain2 ,man1 and man only1 makes war on his brother1 ,and laughs in his heart at his peril and pain1 ,shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain4 ,is it worth while that we battle to humble ,some poor fellow down into the dust8 ,god pity us all6 ,time too soon will tumble ,all of us together1 like leaves in a gust1 ,humbled1 indeed1 down into the dust4 ,joaquin ,miller4 ,life's ,mirror ,there are loyal hearts1 there are spirits brave1 ,there are souls that are pure and true2 ,then give to the world the best you have1 ,and the best will come back to you4 ,give love1 and love to your life will flow1 ,a strength in your utmost need2 ,have faith1 and a score of hearts will show ,their faith in your work and deed4 ,give truth1 and your gift will be paid in kind2 ,and honor will honor meet1 ,and the smile which is sweet will surely find ,a smile that is just as sweet4 ,give pity and sorrow to those who mourn2 ,you will gather in flowers again ,the scattered seeds from your thought outborne1 ,though the sowing seemed in vain4 ,for life is the mirror of king and slave2 ',tis just what we are and do2 ,then give to the world the best you have1 ,and the best will come back to you4 ,madeline ,s4 ,bridges4 ,the ,little ,black-,eyed ,rebel ,a boy drove into the city1 his wagon loaded down ,with food to feed the people of the ,british-governed town2 ,and the little black-eyed rebel1 so cunning and so sly1 ,was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye4 ,his face was broad and honest1 his hands were brown and tough1 ,the clothes he wore upon him were homespun1 coarse1 and rough2 ,but one there was who watched him1 who long time lingered nigh1 ,and cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye4 ,he drove up to the market1 he waited in the line-- ,his apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine4 ,but long and long he waited1 and no one came to buy1 ,save the black-eyed rebel1 watching from the corner of her eye4 ,now1 who will buy my apples8 he shouted1 long and loud2 ,and1 ,who wants my potatoes8 he repeated to the crowd4 ,but from all the people round him came no word of reply1 ,save the black-eyed rebel1 answering from the corner of her eye4 ,for she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day ,were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away1 ,who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain1 or die2 ,and a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye4 ,but the treasures--how to get them8 crept the question through her mind1 ,since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find2 ,and she paused a while and pondered1 with a pretty little sigh1 ,then resolve crept through her features1 and a shrewdness fired her eye4 ,so she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red-- ,may ,i have a dozen apples for a kiss8 she sweetly said2 ,and the brown face flushed to scarlet1 for the boy was somewhat shy1 ,and he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye4 ,you may have them all for nothing1 and more1 if you want1 quoth he4 ,i will have them1 my good fellow1 but can pay for them1 said she4 ,and she clambered on the wagon1 minding not who all were by1 ,with a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye4 ,clinging round his brawny neck1 she clasped her fingers white and small1 ,and then whispered1 ,quick6 the letters6 thrust them underneath my shawl6 ,carry back again this package1 and be sure that you are spry6 ,and she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye4 ,loud the motley crowd was laughing at the strange1 ungirlish freak2 ,and the boy was scared and panting1 and so dashed he could not speak4 ,and ,miss1 ,i have good apples1 a bolder lad did cry2 ,but she answered1 ,no1 ,i thank you1 from the corner of her eye4 ,with the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet1 ,searching them who hungered for them1 swift she glided through the street4 ,there is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try1 ,thought the little black-eyed rebel with a twinkle in her eye4 ,will ,carleton4 ,a ,day ,well ,spent ,if you sit down at set of sun ,and count the deeds that you have done1 ,and1 counting1 find ,one self-denying act1 one word that eased the heart of him that heard2 ,one glance most kind1 which felt like sunshine where it went1 ,then you may count that day well spent4 ,but if through1 all the livelong day ,you've eased no heart by yea or nay1 ,if through it all you've nothing done that you can trace ,that brought the sunshine to one face1 ,no act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost1 ,then count that day as worse than lost4 ,say ,not the ,struggle ,nought ,availeth ,say not the struggle nought availeth1 ,the labor and the wounds are vain1 ,the enemy faints not1 nor faileth1 ,and as things have been they remain4 ,if hopes were dupes1 fears may be liars2 ,it may be1 in yon smoke concealed1 ,your comrades chase e'en now the fliers1 ,and1 but for you1 possess the field4 ,for while the tired waves1 vainly breaking1 ,seem here no painful inch to gain1 ,far back1 through creeks and inlets making1 ,comes silent1 flooding in1 the main1 ,and not by eastern windows only1 ,when daylight comes1 comes in the light1 ,in front1 the sun climbs slow1 how slowly1 ,but westward1 look1 the land is bright4 ,a4,h4 ,clough4 ,the ,miller of the ,dee ,there dwelt a miller1 hale and bold1 ,beside the river ,dee2 ,he worked and sang from morn till night-- ,no lark more blithe than he2 ,and this the burden of his song ,forever used to be3 ,i envy nobody--no1 not ,i-- ,and nobody envies me6 ,thou'rt wrong1 my friend1 said good ,king ,hal1 ,as wrong as wrong can be2 ,for could my heart be light as thine1 ,i'd gladly change with thee4 ,and tell me now1 what makes thee sing1 ,with voice so loud and free1 ,while ,i am sad1 though ,i'm a king1 ,beside the river ,dee8 ,the miller smiled and doffed his cap1 ,i earn my bread1 quoth he2 ,i love my wife1 ,i love my friend1 ,i love my children three2 ,i owe no penny ,i cannot pay1 ,i thank the river ,dee ,that turns the mill that grinds the corn ,that feeds my babes and me4 ,good friend1 said ,hal1 and sighed the while1 ,farewell1 and happy be2 ,but say no more1 if thou'dst be true ,that no one envies thee2 ,thy mealy cap is worth my crown1 ,thy mill my kingdom's fee2 ,such men as thou art ,england's boast1 ,o miller of the ,dee6 ,charles ,mackay4 ,the ,old ,red ,cradle ,take me back to the days when the old red cradle rocked1 ,in the sunshine of the years that are gone2 ,to the good old trusty days1 when the door was never locked1 ,and we slumbered unmolested till the dawn4 ,i remember of my years ,i had numbered almost seven1 ,and the old cradle stood against the wall-- ,i was youngest of the five1 and two were gone to heaven1 ,but the old red cradle rocked us all4 ,and if ever came a day when my cheeks were flushed and hot1 ,when ,i did not mind my porridge or my play1 ,i would clamber up its side and the pain would be forgot1 ,when the old red cradle rocked away4 ,it has been a hallowed spot where ,i've turned through all the years1 ,which have brought me the evil with the good1 ,and ,i turn again to-night1 aye1 and see it through my tears1 ,the place where the dear old cradle stood4 ,by its side my father paused with a little time to spare4 ,and the care-lines would soften on his brow1 ,ah6 't was but a little while that ,i knew a father's care1 ,but ,i fancy in my dreams ,i see him now4 ,by my mother it was rocked when the evening meal was laid1 ,and again ,i seem to see her as she smiled2 ,when the rest were all in bed1 'twas there she knelt and prayed1 ,by the old red cradle and her child4 ,aye1 it cradled one and all1 brothers1 sisters in it lay1 ,and it gave me the sweetest rest ,i've known2 ,but to-night the tears will flow1 and ,i let them have their way1 ,for the passing years are leaving me alone4 ,and it seems of those to come1 ,i would gladly give them all ,for a slumber as free from care as then1 ,just to wake to-morrow morn where the rising sun would fall ,round the old red cradle once again4 ,but the cradle long has gone and the burdens that it bore1 ,one by one1 have been gathered to the fold2 ,still the flock is incomplete1 for it numbers only four1 ,with one left out straying in the cold4 ,heaven grant again we may in each other's arms be locked1 ,where no sad tears of parting ever fall2 ,god forbid that one be lost that the old red cradle rocked2 ,and the dear old cradle rocked us all4 ,annie ,j4 ,granniss4 ,the ,moo ,cow ,moo ,my papa held me up to the ,moo ,cow ,moo ,so close ,i could almost touch1 ,and ,i fed him a couple of times or so1 ,and ,i wasn't a fraid-cat1 much4 ,but if my papa goes in the house1 ,and my mamma she goes in too1 ,i keep still like a little mouse ,for the ,moo ,cow ,moo might ,moo4 ,the ,moo ,cow's tail is a piece of rope ,all raveled out where it grows2 ,and it's just like feeling a piece of soap ,all over the ,moo ,cow's nose4 ,and the ,moo ,cow ,moo has lots of fun ,just switching his tail about1 ,but if he opens his mouth1 why then ,i run1 ,for that's where the ,moo comes out4 ,the ,moo ,cow ,moo has deers on his head1 ,and his eyes stick out of their place1 ,and the nose of the ,moo ,cow ,moo is spread ,all over the ,moo ,cow's face4 ,and his feet are nothing but fingernails1 ,and his mamma don't keep them cut1 ,and he gives folks milk in water pails1 ,when he don't keep his handles shut4 ,but if you or ,i pull his handles1 why ,the ,moo ,cow ,moo says it hurts1 ,but the hired man sits down close by ,and squirts1 and squirts1 and squirts4 ,edmund ,vance ,cooke4 ,all ,things ,bright and ,beautiful ,all things bright and beautiful1 ,all creatures great and small1 ,all things wise and wonderful1-- ,the ,lord ,god made them all4 ,each little flower that opens1 ,each little bird that sings1-- ,he made their glowing colors1 ,he made their tiny wings4 ,the rich man in his castle1 ,the poor man at his gate1 ,god made them1 high or lowly1 ,and ordered their estate4 ,the purple-headed mountain1 ,the river running by1 ,the morning1 and the sunset ,that lighteth up the sky1 ,the cold wind in the winter1 ,the pleasant summer sun1 ,the ripe fruits in the garden1-- ,he made them1 every one4 ,the tall trees in the greenwood1 ,the meadows where we play1 ,the rushes by the water ,we gather every day1-- ,he gave us eyes to see them1 ,and lips that we might tell ,how great is ,god ,almighty1 ,who hath made all things well4 ,cecil ,frances ,alexander4 ,an ,order for a ,picture ,oh1 good painter1 tell me true1 ,has your hand the cunning to draw ,shapes of things that you never saw8 ,aye8 ,well1 here is an order for you4 ,woods and cornfields1 a little brown1-- ,the picture must not be over-bright1-- ,yet all in the golden and gracious light ,of a cloud1 when the summer sun is down4 ,alway and alway1 night and morn1 ,woods upon woods1 with fields of corn ,lying between them1 not quite sere1 ,and not in the full1 thick1 leafy bloom1 ,when the wind can hardly find breathing-room1 ,under their tassels1--cattle near1 ,biting shorter the short green grass1 ,and a hedge of sumach and sassafras1 ,with bluebirds twittering all around1-- 7,ah1 good painter1 you can't paint sound67-- ,these1 and the little house where ,i was born1 ,low and little1 and black and old1 ,with children1 many as it can hold1 ,all at the windows1 open wide1-- ,heads and shoulders clear outside1 ,and fair young faces all ablush3 ,perhaps you have seen1 some day1 ,roses crowding the self-same way1 ,out of a wilding1 wayside bush4 ,listen closer4 ,when you have done ,with woods and cornfields and grazing herds1 ,a lady1 the loveliest ever the sun ,looked down upon you must paint for me3 ,oh1 if ,i could only make you see ,the clear blue eyes1 the tender smile1 ,the sovereign sweetness1 the gentle grace1 ,the woman's soul1 and the angel's face ,that are beaming on me all the while1 ,i need not speak these foolish words3 ,yet one word tells you all ,i would say1-- ,she is my mother3 you will agree ,that all the rest may be thrown away4 ,two little urchins at her knee ,you must paint1 sir3 one like me1-- ,the other with a clearer brow1 ,and the light of his adventurous eyes ,flashing with boldest enterprise3 ,at ten years old he went to sea1-- ,god knoweth if he be living now2 ,he sailed in the good ship ,commodore1-- ,nobody ever crossed her track ,to bring us news1 and she never came back4 ,ah1 it is twenty long years and more ,since that old ship went out of the bay ,with my great-hearted brother on her deck3 ,i watched him till he shrank to a speck1 ,and his face was toward me all the way4 ,bright his hair was1 a golden brown1 ,the time we stood at our mother's knee3 ,that beauteous head1 if it did go down1 ,carried sunshine into the sea6 ,out in the fields one summer night ,we were together1 half afraid ,of the corn-leaves' rustling1 and of the shade ,of the high hills1 stretching so still and far1-- ,loitering till after the low little light ,of the candle shone through the open door1 ,and over the hay-stack's pointed top1 ,all of a tremble and ready to drop1 ,the first half-hoar1 the great yellow star1 ,that we1 with staring1 ignorant eyes1 ,had often and often watched to see ,propped and held in its place in the skies ,by the fork of a tall red mulberry-tree1 ,which close in the edge of our flax-field grew1-- ,dead at the top1 just one branch full ,of leaves1 notched round1 and lined with wool1 ,from which it tenderly shook the dew ,over our heads1 when we came to play ,in its hand-breadth of shadow1 day after day4 ,afraid to go home1 sir2 for one of us bore ,a nest full of speckled and thin-shelled eggs1-- ,the other1 a bird1 held fast by the legs1 ,not so big as a straw of wheat3 ,the berries we gave her she wouldn't eat1 ,but cried and cried1 till we held her bill1 ,so slim and shining1 to keep her still4 ,at last we stood at our mother's knee4 ,do you think1 sir1 if you try1 ,you can paint the look of a lie8 ,if you can1 pray have the grace ,to put it solely in the face ,of the urchin that is likest me3 ,i think 'twas solely mine1 indeed3 ,but that's no matter1--paint it so2 ,the eyes of our mother--7take good heed7-- ,looking not on the nestful of eggs1 ,nor the fluttering bird1 held so fast by the legs1 ,but straight through our faces down to our lies1 ,and1 oh1 with such injured1 reproachful surprise6 ,i felt my heart bleed where that glance went1 as though ,a sharp blade struck through it4 ,you1 sir1 know ,that you on the canvas are to repeat ,things that are fairest1 things most sweet1-- ,woods and cornfields and mulberry-tree1-- ,the mother1--the lads1 with their bird at her knee3 ,but1 oh1 that look of reproachful woe6 ,high as the heavens your name ,i'll shout1 ,if you paint me the picture1 and leave that out4 ,alice ,cary4 ,who ,won the ,war8 ,who won the war8 ',t was little ,belgium stemmed the tide ,of ruthless hordes who thought to ride ,her borders through and prostrate ,france ,ere yet she'd time to raise her lance4 ',t was plucky ,belgium4 ,who won the war8 ,italia broke the galling chain ,which bound her to the guilty twain2 ,then fought 'gainst odds till one of these ,lay prone and shattered at her knees4 ',t was gallant ,italy4 ,who won the war8 ,old ,england's watch dogs of the main ,their vigil kept1 and not in vain2 ,for not a ship their wrath dared brave ,save those which skulked beneath the wave4 ',t was mighty ,england4 ,who won the war8 ',t was ,france who wrote in noble rage ,the grandest words on history's page1 ,they shall not pass--the devilish ,hun2 ,and he could never pass ,verdun4 ',t was sturdy ,france4 ,who won the war8 ,in darkest hour there rose a cry1 ,liberty1 sweet ,liberty1 thou shalt not die6 ,thank ,god6 they came across the sea1 ,two million men and victory6 ',t was glorious ,america4 ,who won the war8 ,no one of these2 not one1 but all ,who answered ,freedom's clarion call4 ,each humble man who did his bit ,in ,god's own book of fame is writ4 ,these won the war4 ,woodbury ,pulsifer4 ,mothers of ,men ,the bravest battle that ever was fought6 ,shall ,i tell you where and when8 ,on the map of the world you will find it not1 ',twas fought by the mothers of men4 ,nay1 not with cannon or battle shot1 ,with sword or nobler pen1 ,nay1 not with eloquent words or thought ,from mouths of wonderful men2 ,but deep in the walled-up woman's heart-- ,of woman that would not yield1 ,but bravely1 silently1 bore her part-- ,lo1 there is the battle field6 ,no marshaling troup1 no bivouac song1 ,no banner to gleam or wave1 ,but oh1 these battles1 they last so long-- ,from babyhood to the grave4 ,yet1 faithful as a bridge of stars1 ,she fights in her walled-up town-- ,fights on and on in the endless wars1 ,then1 silent1 unseen1 goes down4 ,oh1 ye with banner and battle shot1 ,and soldiers to shout and praises ,i tell you the kingliest victories fought ,were fought in those silent ways4 ,oh1 spotless in a world of shame1 ,with splendid and silent scorn1 ,go back to ,god as white as you came-- ,the kingliest warrior born6 ,joaquin ,miller4 ,plain ,bob and a ,job ,bob went lookin' for a job-- ,didn't want a situation2 didn't ask a lofty station3 ,didn't have a special mission for a topnotcher's position2 ,didn't have such fine credentials--but he had the real essentials-- ,had a head that kept on workin' and two hands that were not shirkin'2 ,wasn't either shirk or snob2 ,wasn't ,mister--just plain ,bob1 ,who was lookin' for a job4 ,bob went lookin' for a job2 ,and he wasn't scared or daunted when he saw a sign--,men ,wanted1 ,walked right in with manner fittin' up to where the ,boss was sittin'1 ,and he said3 ,my name is ,bob1 and ,i'm lookin' for a job2 ,and if you're the ,boss that hires 'em1 starts 'em working and that fires 'em1 ,put my name right down here1 ,neighbor1 as a candidate for labor2 ,for my name is just plain ',bob1 ,and my pulses sort o' throb ,for that thing they call a job4 ,bob kept askin' for a job1 ,and the ,boss1 he says3 ,what kind8 ,and ,bob answered3 ,never mind2 ,for ,i am not a bit partic'ler and ,i never was a stickler ,for proprieties in workin'--if you got some labor lurkin' ,anywhere around about kindly go and trot it out4 ,it's1 a job ,i want1 you see-- ,any kind that there may be ,will be good enough for me4 ,well1 sir1 ,bob he got a job4 ,but the ,boss went 'round all day in a dreamy sort of way2 ,and he says to me3 ,by thunder1 we have got the world's ,eighth ,wonder6 ,got a feller name of ,bob who just asked me for a job-- ,never asks when he engages about overtime in wages2 ,never asked if he'd get pay by the hour or by the day2 ,never asked me if it's airy work and light and sanitary2 ,never asked me for my notion of the chances of promotion2 ,never asked for the duration of his annual vacation2 ,never asked for ,saturday half-a-holiday with pay2 ,never took me on probation till he tried the situation2 ,never asked me if it's sittin' work or standin'1 or befittin' ,of his birth and inclination--he just filed his application1 ,hung his coat up on a knob1 ,said his name was just plain ,bob-- ,and went workin' at a job6 ,james ,w4 ,foley4 ,aunt ,tabitha ,whatever ,i do and whatever ,i say1 ,aunt ,tabitha tells me it isn't the way ,when she was a girl 7forty summers ago72 ,aunt ,tabitha tells me they never did so4 ,dear aunt6 ,if ,i only would take her advice6 ,but ,i like my own way1 and ,i find it so nice6 ,and besides1 ,i forget half the things ,i am told2 ,but they all will come back to me--when ,i am old4 ,if a youth passes by1 it may happen1 no doubt1 ,he may chance to look in as ,i chance to look out2 ,she would never endure an impertinent stare-- ,it is horrid1 she says1 and ,i mustn't sit there4 ,a walk in the moonlight has pleasures1 ,i own1 ,but it isn't quite safe to be walking alone2 ,so ,i take a lad's arm--just for safety you know-- ,but ,aunt ,tabitha tells me they didn't do so4 ,how wicked we are1 and how good they were then6 ,they kept at arm's length those detestable men2 ,what an era of virtue she lived in6--,but stay-- ,were the men all such rogues in ,aunt ,tabitha's day8 ,if the men were so wicked1 ,i'll ask my papa ,how he dared to propose to my darling mamma2 ,was he like the rest of them8 ,goodness6 ,who knows8 ,and what shall ,i say1 if a wretch should propose8 ,i am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin1 ,what a wonder ,aunt ,tabitha's aunt must have been6 ,and her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad ,that we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad6 ,a martyr will save us1 and nothing else can1 ,let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man6 ,though when to the altar a victim ,i go1 ,aunt ,tabitha'll tell me she never did so6 ,the ,flag ,goes ,by ,hats off6 ,along the street there comes ,a blare of bugles1 a ruffle of drums1 ,a flash of color beneath the sky3 ,hats off6 ,the flag is passing by6 ,blue and crimson and white it shines1 ,over the steel-tipped1 ordered lines4 ,hats off6 ,the colors before us fly2 ,but more than the flag is passing by4 ,sea-fights and land-fights1 grim and great1 ,fought to make and to save the ,state2 ,weary marches and sinking ships2 ,cheers of victory on dying lips2 ,days of plenty and years of peace1 ,march of a strong land's swift increase3 ,equal justice1 right and law1 ,stately honor and reverent awe2 ,sign of a nation1 great and strong1 ,to ward her people from foreign wrong2 ,pride and glory and honor1 all ,live in the colors to stand or fall4 ,hats off6 ,along the street there comes ,a blare of bugles1 a ruffle of drums1 ,and loyal hearts are beating high3 ,hats off6 ,the flag is passing by6 ,h4,h4 ,bennett4 ,the ,rivers of ,france ,the rivers of ,france are ten score and twain1 ,but five are the names that we know3 ,the ,marne1 the ,vesle1 the ,oureq and the ,aisne1 ,and the ,somme of the swampy flow4 ,the rivers of ,france1 from source to sea1 ,are nourished by many a rill1 ,but these five1 if ever a drouth there be ,the fountains of sorrow would fill4 ,the rivers of ,france shine silver white1 ,but the waters of five are red ,with the richest blood1 in the fiercest fight ,for freedom that ever was shed4 ,the rivers of ,france sing soft as they run1 ,but five have a song of their own1 ,that hymns the fall of the arrogant one ,and the proud cast down from his throne4 ,the rivers of ,france all quietly take ,to sleep in the house of their birth1 ,but the carnadined wave of five shall break ,on the uttermost strands of earth4 ,five rivers of ,france--see6 their names are writ ,on a banner of crimson and gold1 ,and the glory of those who fashioned it ,shall nevermore cease to be told4 ,h4,j4,m41 in ,london ,times4 ,seven ,times ,one ,there's no dew left on the daisies and clover1 ,there's no rain left in heaven2 ,i've said my seven times over and over3 ,seven times one are seven4 ,i am old1 so old ,i can write a letter2 ,my birthday lessons are done2 ,the lambs play always1 they know no better1 ,they are only one times one4 ,o ,moon6 in the night ,i have seen you sailing ,and shining so round and low2 ,you were bright6 but your light is failing1 ,you are nothing now but a bow4 ,you ,moon1 have you done something wrong in heaven1 ,that ,god has hidden your face8 ,i hope if you have1 you'll soon be forgiven1 ,and shine again in your place4 ,o velvet ,bee1 you're a dusty fellow2 ,you've powdered your legs with gold6 ,o brave ,marshmary buds1 rich and yellow1 ,give me your money to hold6 ,o ,columbine1 open your folded wrapper ,where two twin turtle-doves dwell6 ,o ,cuckoo-pint1 toll me the purple clapper ,that hangs in your clear green bell6 ,and show me your nest1 with the young ones in it1 ,i will not steal them away2 ,i am old6 you may trust me1 linnet1 linnet1 ,i am seven times one to-day4 ,jean ,ingelow4 ,seven ,times ,two ,you bells in the steeple1 ring1 ring out your changes1 ,how many soever they be1 ,and let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges1 ,come over1 come over to me4 ,yet birds' clearest carol by fall or by swelling ,no magical sense conveys1 ,and bells have forgotten their old art of telling ,the fortune of future days4 ,turn again1 turn again1 once they rang cheerily4 ,while a boy listened alone2 ,made his heart yearn again1 musing so wearily ,all by himself on a stone4 ,poor bells6 ,i forgive you2 your good days are over1 ,and mine1 they are yet to be2 ,no listening1 no longing shall aught1 aught discover3 ,you leave the story to me4 ,the foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather1 ,preparing her hoods of snow3 ,she was idle1 and slept till the sunshiny weather3 ,oh1 children take long to grow4 ,i wish and ,i wish that the spring would go faster1 ,nor long summer bide so late2 ,and ,i could grow on like the foxglove and aster1 ,for some things are ill to wait4 ,i wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover1 ,while dear hands are laid on my head3 ,the child is a woman1 the book may close over1 ,for all the lessons are said4 ,i wait for my story--the birds cannot sing it1 ,not one1 as he sits on the tree2 ,the bells cannot ring it1 but long years1 oh bring it6 ,such as ,i wish it to be4 ,jean ,ingelow4 ,seven ,times ,three ,,love ,i leaned out of window1 ,i smelt the white clover1 ,dark1 dark was the garden1 ,i saw not the gate2 ,now1 if there be footsteps1 he comes1 my one lover-- ,hush1 nightingale1 hush6 ,o sweet nightingale1 wait ,till ,i listen and hear ,if a step draweth near1 ,for my love he is late6 ,the skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer1 ,a cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree1 ,the fall of the water comes sweeter1 comes clearer3 ,to what art thou listening1 and what dost thou see8 ,let the star-clusters grow1 ,let the sweet waters flow4 ,and cross quickly to me4 ,you night-moths that hover where honey brims over ,from sycamore blossoms1 or settle or sleep2 ,you glowworms1 shine out1 and the pathway discover ,to him that comes darkling along the rough steep4 ,ah1 my sailor1 make haste1 ,for the time runs to waste1 ,and my love lieth deep1 ,too deep for swift telling2 and yet1 my one lover1 ,i've conned thee an answer1 it waits thee to-night4 ,by the sycamore passed he1 and through the white clover2 ,then all the sweet speech ,i had fashioned took flight2 ,but ,i'll love him more1 more ,than e'er wife loved before1 ,be the days dark or bright4 ,jean ,ingelow4 ,seven ,times ,four ,,maternity ,heigh-ho6 daisies and buttercups1 ,fair yellow daffodils1 stately and tall6 ,when the wind wakes1 how they rock in the grasses1 ,and dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small6 ,here's two bonny boys1 and here's mother's own lasses ,eager to gather them all4 ,heigh-ho6 daisies and buttercups6 ,mother shall thread them a daisy chain2 ,sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow1 ,that loved her brown little ones1 loved them full fain2 ,sing1 ,heart1 thou art wide though the house be but narrow1-- ,sing once1 and sing it again4 ,heigh-ho6 daisies and buttercups1 ,sweet wagging cowslips1 they bend and they bow2 ,a ship sails afar over warm ocean waters1 ,and haply one musing doth stand at her prow1 ,o bonny brown son1 and ,o sweet little daughters1 ,maybe he thinks on you now6 ,heigh-ho6 daisies and buttercups1 ,fair yellow daffodils1 stately and tall6 ,a sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure1 ,and fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall6 ,send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure1 ,god that is over us all6 ,jean ,ingelow4 ,autumn ,woods ,ere1 in the northern gale1 ,the summer tresses of the trees are gone1 ,the woods of ,autumn1 all around our vale1 ,have put their glory on4 ,the mountains that infold1 ,in their wide sweep1 the colored landscape round1 ,seem groups of giant kings1 in purple and gold1 ,that guard the enchanted ground4 ,i roam the woods that crown ,the upland1 where the mingled splendors glow1 ,where the gay company of trees look down ,on the green fields below4 ,my steps are not alone ,in these bright walks2 the sweet southwest1 at play1 ,flies1 rustling1 where the painted leaves are strown ,along the winding way4 ,and far in heaven1 the while1 ,the sun1 that sends that gale to wander here1 ,pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile1-- ,the sweetest of the year4 ,where now the solemn shade1 ,verdure and gloom where many branches meet2 ,so grateful1 when the noon of summer made ,the valleys sick with heat8 ,let in through all the trees ,come the strange rays2 the forest depths are bright2 ,their sunny-colored foliage1 in the breeze1 ,twinkles1 like beams of light4 ,the rivulet1 late unseen1 ,where bickering through the shrubs its waters run1 ,shines with the image of its golden screen ,and glimmerings of the sun4 ,but 'neath yon crimson tree1 ,lover to listening maid might breathe his flame1 ,nor mark1 within its roseate canopy1 ,her blush of maiden shame4 ,oh1 ,autumn6 why so soon ,depart the hues that make thy forests glad2 ,thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon1 ,and leave thee wild and sad8 ,ah6 'twere a lot too blessed ,forever in thy colored shades to stray2 ,amid the kisses of the soft southwest ,to rove and dream for aye2 ,and leave the vain low strife ,that makes men mad--the tug for wealth and power1 ,the passions and the cares that wither life1 ,and waste its little hour4 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,the ,drummer ,boy of ,mission ,ridge ,did you ever hear of the ,drummer ,boy of ,mission ,ridge1 who lay ,with his face to the foe1 'neath the enemy's guns1 in the charge of that terrible day8 ,they were firing above him and firing below1 and the tempest of shot and shell ,was raging like death1 as he moaned in his pain1 by the breastworks where he fell4 ,go back with your corps1 our colonel had said1 but he waited the moment when ,he might follow the ranks and shoulder a gun with the best of us bearded men2 ,and so when the signals from old ,fort ,wood set an army of veterans wild1 ,he flung down his drum1 which spun down the hill like the ball of a wayward child4 ,and then he fell in with the foremost ranks of brave old company ,g1 ,as we charged by the flank1 with our colors ahead1 and our columns closed up like a ,v1 ,in the long1 swinging lines of that splendid advance1 when the flags of our corps floated out1 ,like the ribbons that dance in the jubilant lines of the march of a gala day rout4 ,he charged with the ranks1 though he carried no gun1 for the colonel had said him nay1 ,and he breasted the blast of the bristling guns1 and the shock of the sickening fray2 ,and when by his side they were falling like hail he sprang to a comrade slain1 ,and shouldered his musket and bore it as true as the hand that was dead in pain4 ',twas dearly we loved him1 our ,drummer ,boy1 with a fire in his bright1 black eye1 ,that flashed forth a spirit too great for his form--he only was just so high1 ,as tall1 perhaps1 as your little lad who scarcely reaches your shoulder-- ,though his heart was the heart of a veteran then1 a trifle1 it may be1 bolder4 ,he pressed to the front1 our lad so leal1 and the works were almost won1 ,a moment more and our flags had swung o'er the muzzle of murderous gun2 ,but a raking fire swept the van1 and he fell 'mid the wounded and slain1 ,with his wee wan face turned up to ,him who feeleth ,his children's pain4 ,again and again our lines fell back1 and again with shivering shocks ,they flung themselves on the rebels' works as ships are tossed on rocks2 ,to be crushed and broken and scattered amain1 as the wrecks of the surging storm4 ,where none may rue and none may reck of aught that has human form4 ,so under the ridge we were lying for the order to charge again1 ,and we counted our comrades missing1 and we counted our comrades slain2 ,and one said1 ,johnny1 our ,drummer ,boy1 is grievously shot and lies ,just under the enemy's breastwork2 if left on the field he dies4 ,then all the blood that was in me surged up to my aching brow1 ,and my heart leaped up like a ball in my throat--,i can feel it even now1 ,and ,i said ,i would bring that boy from the field1 if ,god would spare my breath1 ,if all the guns in ,mission ,ridge should thunder the threat of death4 ,i crept and crept up the ghastly ridge1 by the wounded and the dead1 ,with the moans of my comrades right and left1 behind me and yet ahead1 ,till ,i came to the form of our ,drummer ,boy1 in his blouse of dusty blue1 ,with his face to the foe1 'neath the enemy's guns1 where the blast of the battle blew4 ,and his gaze as he met my own just there would have melted a heart of stone1 ,as he tried like a wounded bird to rise1 and placed his hand in my own2 ,and he said in a voice half smothered1 though its whispering thrills me yet1 ,i think in a moment more that ,i would have stood on that parapet4 ,but now ,i nevermore will climb1 and1 ,sergeant1 when you see ,the men go up those breastworks there1 just stop and waken me2 ,for though ,i cannot make the charge and join the cheers that rise1 ,i may forget my pain to see the old flag kiss the skies4 ,well1 it was hard to treat him so1 his poor limb shattered sore1 ,but ,i raised him on my shoulder and to the surgeon bore2 ,and the boys who saw us coming each gave a shout of joy1 ,and uttered fervent prayers for him1 our valiant ,drummer ,boy4 ,when sped the news that ,fighting ,joe had saved the ,union right1 ,with his legions fresh from ,lookout2 and that ,thomas massed his might ,and forced the rebel center2 and our cheering ran like wild2 ,and ,sherman's heart was happy as the heart of a little child2 ,when ,grant from his lofty outlook saw our flags by the hundred fly ,along the slopes of ,mission ,ridge1 where'er he cast his eye2 ,and when we heard the thrilling news of the mighty battle done1 ,the fearful contest ended1 and the glorious victory won2 ,then his bright black eyes so yearning grew strangely rapt and wide1 ,and in that hour of conquest our little hero died4 ,but ever in our hearts he dwells1 with a grace that ne'er is old1 ,for him the heart to duty wed can nevermore grow cold6 ,and when they tell of heroes1 and the laurels they have won1 ,of the scars they are doomed to carry1 of the deeds that they have done2 ,of the horror to be biding among the ghastly dead1 ,the gory sod beneath them1 the bursting shell o'erhead1 ,my heart goes back to ,mission ,ridge and the ,drummer ,boy who lay ,with his face to the foe1 'neath the enemy's guns1 in the charge of that terrible day2 ,and ,i say that the land that bears such sons is crowned and dowered with all ,the dear ,god giveth nations to stay them lest they fall4 ,oh1 glory of ,mission ,ridge1 stream on1 like the roseate light of morn1 ,on the sons that now are living1 on the sons that are yet unborn6 ,and cheers for our comrades living1 and tears as they pass away6 ,and three times three for the ,drummer ,boy who fought at the front that day6 ,if-- ,if you can keep your head when all about you ,are losing theirs and blaming it on you2 ,if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you1 ,but make allowance for their doubting too2 ,if you can wait and not be tired by waiting1 ,or being lied about don't deal in lies1 ,or being hated don't give way to hating1 ,and yet don't look too good1 nor talk too wise2 ,if you can dream and not make dreams your master2 ,if you can think and not make thoughts your aim2 ,if you can meet with ,triumph and ,disaster ,and treat those two impostors just the same2 ,if you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken ,twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools1 ,or watch the things you gave your life to broken1 ,and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools2 ,if you can make one heap of all your winnings ,and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss4 ,and lose1 and start again at your beginnings ,and never breathe a word about your loss2 ,if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew ,to serve your turn long after they are gone1 ,and so hold on when there is nothing in you ,except the ,will which says to them3 ,hold on6 ,if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue1 ,or walk with ,kings nor lose the common touch2 ,if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you2 ,if all men count with you1 but none too much2 ,if you can fill the unforgiving minute ,with sixty seconds' worth of distance run1 ,yours is the ,earth and everything that's in it1 ,and--which is more--you'll be a ,man1 my son6 ,rudyard ,kipling4 ,second ,table ,some boys are mad when comp'ny comes to stay for meals4 ,they hate ,to have the other people eat while boys must wait and wait1 ,but ,i've about made up my mind ,i'm different from the rest1 ,for as for me1 ,i b'lieve ,i like the second table best4 ,to eat along with comp'ny is so trying1 for it's tough ,to sit and watch the victuals when you dassent touch the stuff4 ,you see your father serving out the dark meat and the light ,until a boy is sure he'll starve before he gets a bite4 ,and when1 he asks you what you'll have1--you've heard it all before1-- ,you know you'll get just what you get and won't get nothing more2 ,for1 when you want another piece1 your mother winks her eye1 ,and so you say1 ,i've plenty1 thanks6 and tell a whopping lie4 ,when comp'ny is a-watching you1 you've got to be polite1 ,and eat your victuals with a fork and take a little bite4 ,you can't have nothing till you're asked and1 'cause a boy is small1 ,folks think he isn't hungry1 and he's never asked at all4 ,since ,i can first remember ,i've been told that when the cake ,is passed around1 the proper thing is for a boy to take ,the piece that's nearest to him1 and so all ,i ever got1 ,when comp'ny's been to our house1 was the smallest in the lot4 ,it worries boys like everything to have the comp'ny stay ,a-setting round the table1 like they couldn't get away4 ,but when they've gone1 and left the whole big shooting match to me1 ,say6 ain't it fun to just wade in and help myself8 ,oh1 gee6 ,with no one round to notice what you're doing--bet your life6-- ,boys don't use forks to eat with when they'd rather use a knife1 ,nor take such little bites as when they're eating with the rest ,and so1 for lots of things1 ,i like the second table best ,nixon ,waterman4 ,the ,children ,when the lessons and tasks are all ended1 ,and the school for the day is dismissed1 ,and the little ones gather around me1 ,to bid me good night and be kissed2 ,oh1 the little white arms that encircle ,my neck in their tender embrace6 ,oh1 the smiles that are halos of heaven1 ,shedding sunshine of love on my face6 ,and when they are gone1 ,i sit dreaming ,of my childhood1 too lovely to last2 ,of love that my heart will remember ,when it wakes to the pulse of the past1 ,ere the world and its wickedness made me ,a partner of sorrow and sin1-- ,when the glory of ,god was about me1 ,and the glory of gladness within4 ,all my heart grows weak as a woman's ,and the fountains of feeling will flow1 ,when ,i think of the paths steep and stony1 ,where the feet of the dear ones must go2 ,of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them1 ,of the tempest of ,fate blowing wild2 ,oh1 there's nothing on earth half so holy ,as the innocent heart of a child6 ,they are idols of hearts and of households2 ,they are angels of ,god in disguise2 ,his sunlight still sleeps in their tresses1 ,his glory still gleams in their eyes2 ,oh1 these truants from home and from heaven1-- ,they have made me more manly and mild2 ,and ,i know now how ,jesus could liken ,the kingdom of ,god to a child6 ,i ask not a life for the dear ones ,all radiant1 as others have done1 ,but that life may have just enough shadow ,to temper the glare of the sun2 ,i would pray ,god to guard them from evil1 ,but my prayer would bound back to myself2 ,ah6 a seraph may pray for a sinner1 ,but a sinner must pray for himself4 ,the twig is so easily bended1 ,i have banished the rule and the rod2 ,i have taught them the goodness of knowledge1 ,they have taught me the goodness of ,god4 ,my heart is the dungeon of darkness1 ,where ,i shut them for breaking a rule2 ,my frown is sufficient correction2 ,my love is the law of the school4 ,i shall leave the old house in the autumn1 ,to traverse its threshold no more2 ,ah6 how shall ,i sigh for the dear ones ,that meet me each morn at the door6 ,i shall miss the good nights and the kisses1 ,and the gush of their innocent glee4 ,the group on its green1 and the flowers ,that are brought every morning to me4 ,i shall miss them at morn and at even1 ,their song in the school and the street2 ,i shall miss the low hum of their voices1 ,and the tread of their delicate feet4 ,when the lessons of life are all ended1 ,and death says1 ,the school is dismissed6 ,may the little ones gather around me ,to bid me good night and be kissed6 ,charles ,m4 ,dickinson4 ,a ,visit from ,st4 ,nicholas ',twas the night before ,christmas1 when all through the house ,not a creature was stirring1 not even a mouse2 ,the stockings were hung by the chimney with care1 ,in hopes that ,st4 ,nicholas soon would be there2 ,the children were nestled all snug in their beds1 ,while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads2 ,and mamma in her kerchief1 and ,i in my cap1 ,had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap1-- ,when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter1 ,i sprang from my bed to see what was the matter4 ,away to the window ,i flew like a flash1 ,tore open the shutters and threw up the sash4 ,the moon1 on the breast of the new-fallen snow1 ,gave a luster of midday to objects below3 ,when what to my wondering eyes should appear1 ,but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer1 ,with a little old driver1 so lively and quick1 ,i knew in a moment it must be ,st4 ,nick4 ,more rapid than eagles his coursers they came1 ,and he whistled and shouted1 and called them by name3 ,now1 ,dasher6 now ,dancer6 now1 ,prancer6 now ,vixen6 ,on1 ,comet1 on1 ,cupid6 on1 ,donder and ,blitzen6-- ,to the top of the porch1 to the top of the wall6 ,now1 dash away1 dash sway1 dash away all6 ,as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly1 ,when they meet with an obstacle1 mount to the sky1 ,so1 up to the house-top the coursers they flew1 ,with the sleigh full of toys1 and ,st4 ,nicholas too1 ,and then in a twinkling ,i heard on the roof ,the prancing and pawing of each little hoof4 ,as ,i drew in my head1 and was turning around1 ,down the chimney ,st4 ,nicholas came with a bound4 ,he was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot1 ,and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot2 ,a bundle of toys he had flung on his back1 ,and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack4 ,his eyes how they twinkled2 his dimples how merry6 ,his cheeks were like roses1 his nose like a cherry2 ,his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow1 ,and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow4 ,the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth1 ,and the smoke1 it encircled his head like a wreath4 ,he had a broad face and a little round belly ,that shook1 when he laughed1 like a bowl full of jelly4 ,he was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf-- ,and ,i laughed when ,i saw him1 in spite of myself4 ,a wink of his eye1 and a twist of his head1 ,soon gave me to know ,i had nothing to dread4 ,he spake not a word1 but went straight to his work1 ,and filled all the stockings2 then turned with a jerk1 ,and laying his finger aside of his nose ,and giving a nod1 up the chimney he rose4 ,he sprang to his sleigh1 to his team gave a whistle1 ,and away they all flew like the down of a thistle2 ,but ,i heard him exclaim1 ere they drove out of sight1 ,happy ,christmas to all1 and to all a good-night6 ,clement ,c4 ,moore4 ,your ,mission ,if you cannot on the ocean ,sail among the swiftest fleet1 ,rocking on the highest billows1 ,laughing at the storms you meet1 ,you can stand among the sailors1 ,anchored yet within the bay1 ,you can lend a hand to help them1 ,as they launch their boats away4 ,if you are too weak to journey ,up the mountain steep and high1 ,you can stand within the valley1 ,while the multitudes go by2 ,you can chant in happy measure1 ,as they slowly pass along2 ,though they may forget the singer1 ,they will not forget the song4 ,if you have not gold and silver ,ever ready to command1 ,if you cannot towards the needy ,reach an ever-open hand1 ,you can visit the afflicted1 ,o'er the erring you can weep1 ,you can be a true disciple1 ,sitting at the ,savior's feet4 ,if you cannot in the conflict1 ,prove yourself a soldier true1 ,if where fire and smoke are thickest1 ,there's no work for you to do1 ,when the battle-field is silent1 ,you can go with careful tread1 ,you can bear away the wounded1 ,you can cover up the dead4 ,do not then stand idly waiting ,for some greater work to do1 ,fortune is a lazy goddess1 ,she will never come to you4 ,go and toil in any vineyard1 ,do not fear to do or dare1 ,if you want a field of labor1 ,you can find it anywhere4 ,ellen ,h4 ,gates4 ,the ,house by the ,side of the ,road ,there are hermit souls that live withdrawn ,in the peace of their self-content2 ,there are souls1 like stars1 that dwell apart1 ,in a fellowless firmament2 ,there are pioneer souls that blaze their paths ,where highways never ran2 ,but let me live by the side of the road ,and be a friend to man4 ,let me live in a house by the side of the road1 ,where the race of men go by1 ,the men who are good and the men who are bad1 ,as good and as bad as ,i4 ,i would not sit in the scorner's seat1 ,or hurl the cynic's ban2 ,let me live in a house by the side of the road ,and be a friend to man4 ,i see from my house by the side of the road1 ,by the side of the highway of life1 ,the men who press with the ardor of hope1 ,the men who are faint with the strife4 ,but ,i turn not away from their smiles nor their tears1 ,both parts of an infinite plan2 ,let me live in my house by the side of the road ,and be a friend to man4 ,i know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead ,and mountains of wearisome height2 ,that the road passes on through the long afternoon ,and stretches away to the night4 ,but still ,i rejoice when the travelers rejoice1 ,and weep with the strangers that moan4 ,nor live in my house by the side of the road ,like a man who dwells alone4 ,let me live in my house by the side of the road ,where the race of men go by2 ,they are good1 they are bad1 they are weak1 they are strong1 ,wise1 foolish--so am ,i4 ,then why should ,i sit in the scorner's seat1 ,or hurl the cynic's ban8 ,let me live in my house by the side of the road ,and be a friend to man4 ,sam ,walter ,foss4 ,asleep at the ,switch ,the first thing that ,i remember was ,carlo tugging away1 ,with the sleeve of my coat fast in his teeth1 pulling1 as much as to say3 ,come1 master1 awake1 attend to the switch1 lives now depend upon you4 ,think of the souls in the coming train1 and the graves you are sending them to4 ,think of the mother and the babe at her breast1 think of the father and son1 ,think of the lover and the loved one too1 think of them doomed every one ,to fall 7as it were by your very hand7 into yon fathomless ditch1 ,murdered by one who should guard them from harm1 who now lies asleep at the switch4 ,i sprang up amazed--scarce knew where ,i stood1 sleep had o'ermastered me so2 ,i could hear the wind hollowly howling1 and the deep river dashing below1 ,i could hear the forest leaves rustling1 as the trees by the tempest were fanned1 ,but what was that noise in the distance8 ,that1 ,i could not understand4 ,i heard it at first indistinctly1 like the rolling of some muffled drum1 ,then nearer and nearer it came to me1 till it made my very ears hum2 ,what is this light that surrounds me and seems to set fire to my brain8 ,what whistle's that1 yelling so shrill8 ,ah6 ,i know now2 it's the train4 ,we often stand facing some danger1 and seem to take root to the place2 ,so ,i stood--with this demon before me1 its heated breath scorching my face2 ,its headlight made day of the darkness1 and glared like the eyes of some witch1-- ,the train was almost upon me before ,i remembered the switch4 ,i sprang to it1 seizing it wildly1 the train dashing fast down the track2 ,the switch resisted my efforts1 some devil seemed holding it back2 ,on1 on came the fiery-eyed monster1 and shot by my face like a flash2 ,i swooned to the earth the next moment1 and knew nothing after the crash4 ,how long ,i lay there unconscious 'twas impossible for me to tell2 ,my stupor was almost a heaven1 my waking almost a hell1-- ,for then ,i heard the piteous moaning and shrieking of husbands and wives1 ,and ,i thought of the day we all shrink from1 when ,i must account for their lives2 ,mothers rushed by me like maniacs1 their eyes glaring madly and wild2 ,fathers1 losing their courage1 gave way to their grief like a child2 ,children searching for parents1 ,i noticed1 as by me they sped1 ,and lips1 that could form naught but ,mamma1 were calling for one perhaps dead4 ,my mind was made up in a moment1 the river should hide me away1 ,when1 under the still burning rafters ,i suddenly noticed there lay ,a little white hand2 she who owned it was doubtless an object of love ,to one whom her loss would drive frantic1 though she guarded him now from above2 ,i tenderly lifted the rafters and quietly laid them one side2 ,how little she thought of her journey when she left for this dark1 fatal ride6 ,i lifted the last log from off her1 and while searching for some spark of life1 ,turned her little face up in the starlight1 and recognized--,maggie1 my wife6 ,o ,lord6 my scourge is a hard one1 at a blow thou hast shattered my pride2 ,my life will be one endless nightmare1 with ,maggie away from my side4 ,how often ,i'd sat down and pictured the scenes in our long1 happy life2 ,how ,i'd strive through all my lifetime1 to build up a home for my wife2 ,how people would envy us always in our cozy and neat little nest2 ,how ,i should do all the labor1 and ,maggie should all the day rest2 ,how one of ,god's blessings might cheer us1 how some day ,i perhaps should be rich3-- ,but all of my dreams had been shattered1 while ,i lay there asleep at the switch6 ,i fancied ,i stood on my trial1 the jury and judge ,i could see2 ,and every eye in the court room was steadily fixed upon me2 ,and fingers were pointed in scorn1 till ,i felt my face blushing blood-red1 ,and the next thing ,i heard were the words1 ,hanged by the neck until dead4 ,then ,i felt myself pulled once again1 and my hand caught tight hold of a dress1 ,and ,i heard1 ,what's the matter1 dear ,jim8 ,you've had a bad nightmare1 ,i guess6 ,and there stood ,maggie1 my wife1 with never a scar from the ditch1 ,i'd been taking a nap in my bed1 and had not been asleep at the switch4 ,george ,hoey4 ,each in ,his ,own ,tongue ,a fire-mist and a planet1 ,a crystal and a cell1 ,a jellyfish and a saurian1 ,and caves where the cavemen dwell2 ,then a sense of law and beauty1 ,and a face turned from the clod1-- ,some call it ,evolution1 ,and others call it ,god4 ,a haze in the far horizon1 ,the infinite1 tender sky2 ,the ripe1 rich tints of the cornfields1 ,and the wild geese sailing high2 ,and all over upland and lowland ,the charm of the goldenrod1-- ,some of us call it ,nature1 ,and others call it ,god4 ,like tides on a crescent sea-beach1 ,when the moon is new and thin1 ,into our hearts high yearnings ,come welling and surging in1-- ,come from the mystic ocean4 ,whose rim no foot has trod1-- ,some of us call it ,longing1 ,and others call it ,god4 ,a picket frozen on duty1 ,a mother starved for her brood1 ,socrates drinking the hemlock1 ,and ,jesus on the rood2 ,the millions who1 humble and nameless1 ,the straight1 hard pathway trod1-- ,some call it ,consecration1 ,and others call it ,god4 ,william ,herbert ,carruth4 ,how ,cyrus ,laid the ,cable ,come1 listen all unto my song2 ,it is no silly fable2 ',tis all about the mighty cord ,they call the ,atlantic ,cable4 ,bold ,cyrus ,field he said1 says he1 ,i have a pretty notion ,that ,i can run the telegraph ,across the ,atlantic ,ocean4 ,then all the people laughed1 and said ,they'd like to see him do it2 ,he might get half-seas over1 but ,he never could go through it2 ,to carry out his foolish plan ,he never would be able2 ,he might as well go hang himself ,with his ,atlantic ,cable4 ,but ,cyrus was a valiant man1 ,a fellow of decision2 ,and heeded not their mocking words1 ,their laughter and derision4 ,twice did his bravest efforts fail1 ,and yet his mind was stable2 ,he wa'n't the man to break his heart ,because he broke his cable4 ,once more1 my gallant boys6 he cried2 ,three times6--you know the fable1-- 7,i'll make it thirty1 muttered he1 ,but ,i will lay this cable67 ,once more they tried--hurrah6 hurrah6 ,what means this great commotion8 ,the ,lord be praised6 the cable's laid ,across the ,atlantic ,ocean4 ,loud ring the bells1--for1 flashing through ,six hundred leagues of water1 ,old ,mother ,england's benison ,salutes her eldest daughter4 ,o'er all the land the tidings speed1 ,and soon1 in every nation1 ,they'll hear about the cable with ,profoundest admiration6 99 99 99 99 99 ,and may we honor evermore ,the manly1 bold1 and stable2 ,and tell our sons1 to make them brave1 ,how ,cyrus laid the cable4 ,john ,g4 ,saxe4 ,jane ,jones ,jane ,jones keeps talkin' to me all the time1 ,an' says you must make it a rule ,to study your lessons 'nd work hard 'nd learn1 ,an' never be absent from school4 ,remember the story of ,elihu ,burritt1 ,an' how he clum up to the top1 ,got all the knowledge 'at he ever had ,down in a blacksmithing shop8 ,jane ,jones she honestly said it was so6 ,mebbe he did-- ,i dunno6 ,o' course what's a-keepin' me 'way from the top1 ,is not never havin' no blacksmithing shop4 ,she said 'at ,ben ,franklin was awfully poor1 ,but full of ambition an' brains2 ,an' studied philosophy all his hull life1 ,an' see what he got for his pains6 ,he brought electricity out of the sky1 ,with a kite an' a bottle an' key1 ,an' we're owing him more'n any one else ,for all the bright lights 'at we see4 ,jane ,jones she honestly said it was so6 ,mebbe he did-- ,i dunno6 ,o' course what's allers been hinderin' me ,is not havin' any kite1 lightning er key4 ,jane ,jones said ,abe ,lincoln had no books at all1 ,an' used to split rails when a boy2 ,an' ,general ,grant was a tanner by trade ,an' lived 'way out in ,illinois4 ,so when the great war in the ,south first broke out ,he stood on the side o' the right1 ,an' when ,lincoln called him to take charge o' things1 ,he won nearly every blamed fight4 ,jane ,jones she honestly said it was so6 ,mebbe he did-- ,i dunno6 ,still ,i ain't to blame1 not by a big sight1 ,for ,i ain't never had any battles to fight4 ,she said 'at ,columbus was out at the knees ,when he first thought up his big scheme1 ,an' told all the ,spaniards 'nd ,italians1 too1 ,an' all of 'em said 'twas a dream4 ,but ,queen ,isabella jest listened to him1 ',nd pawned all her jewels o' worth1 ',nd bought him the ,santa ,maria 'nd said1 ,go hunt up the rest o' the earth6 ,mebbe he did-- ,i dunno6 ,o' course that may be1 but then you must allow ,they ain't no land to discover jest now6 ,ben ,king4 ,the ,leap of ,roushan ,beg ,mounted on ,kyrat strong and fleet1 ,his chestnut steed with four white feet1 ,roushan ,beg1 called ,kurroglou1 ,son of the road and bandit chief1 ,seeking refuge and relief1 ,up the mountain pathway flew4 ,such was ,kyrat's wondrous speed1 ,never yet could any steed ,reach the dust-cloud in his course4 ,more than maiden1 more than wife1 ,more than gold and next to life ,roushan the ,robber loved his horse4 ,in the land that lies beyond ,erzeroum and ,trebizond1 ,garden-girt his fortress stood2 ,plundered khan1 or caravan ,journeying north from ,koordistan1 ,gave him wealth and wine and food4 ,seven hundred and fourscore ,men at arms his livery wore1 ,did his bidding night and day1 ,now1 through regions all unknown1 ,he was wandering1 lost1 alone1 ,seeking without guide his way4 ,suddenly the pathway ends1 ,sheer the precipice descends1 ,loud the torrent roars unseen2 ,thirty feet from side to side ,yawns the chasm2 on air must ride ,he who crosses this ravine1 ,following close in his pursuit1 ,at the precipice's foot ,reyhan the ,arab of ,orfah ,halted with his hundred men1 ,shouting upward from the glen1 ,la ,illah illa ,allah6 ,gently ,roushan ,beg caressed ,kyrat's forehead1 neck1 and breast1 ,kissed him upon both his eyes2 ,sang to him in his wild way1 ,as upon the topmost spray ,sings a bird before it flies4 ,o my ,kyrat1 ,o my steed1 ,round and slender as a reed1 ,carry me this peril through6 ,satin housings shall be thine1 ,shoes of gold1 ,o ,kyrat mine1 ,o thou soul of ,kurroglou6 ,soft thy skin as silken skein1 ,soft as woman's hair thy mane1 ,tender are thine eyes and true2 ,all thy hoofs like ivory shine1 ,polished bright2 ,o life of mine1 ,leap1 and rescue ,kurroglou6 ,kyrat1 then1 the strong and fleet1 ,drew together his four white feet1 ,paused a moment on the verge1 ,measured with his eye the space1 ,and into the air's embrace ,leaped1 as leaps the ocean surge4 ,as the ocean surge o'er sand ,bears a swimmer safe to land1 ,kyrat safe his rider bore2 ,rattling down the deep abyss1 ,fragments of the precipice ,rolled like pebbles on a shore4 ,roushan's tasseled cap of red ,trembled not upon his head1 ,careless sat he and upright2 ,neither hand nor bridle shook1 ,nor his head he turned to look1 ,as he galloped out of sight4 ,flash of harness in the air1 ,seen a moment like the glare ,of a sword drawn from its sheath2 ,thus the phantom horseman passed1 ,and the shadow that he cast ,leaped the cataract underneath4 ,reyhan the ,arab held his breath ,while this vision of life and death ,passed above him4 ,allahu6 ,cried he4 ,in all ,koordistan ,lives there not so brave a man ,as this ,robber ,kurroglou6 ,henry ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,old ,ironsides ,ay1 tear her tattered ensign down6 ,long has it waved on high1 ,and many an eye has danced to see ,that banner in the sky2 ,beneath it rung the battle shout1 ,and burst the cannon's roar2-- ,the meteor of the ocean air ,shall sweep the clouds no more6 ,her deck1 once red with heroes' blood1 ,where knelt the vanquished foe1 ,when winds were hurrying o'er the flood1 ,and waves were white below1 ,no more shall feel the victor's tread1 ,or know the conquered knee2-- ,the harpies of the shore shall pluck ,the eagle of the sea6 ,oh1 better that her shattered hulk ,should sink beneath the wave6 ,her thunders shook the mighty deep1 ,and there should be her grave2 ,nail to the mast her holy flag1 ,set every threadbare sail1 ,and give her to the god of storms1 ,the lightning and the gale6 ,oliver ,wendell ,holmes4 ,a ,psalm of ,life ,tell me not1 in mournful numbers1 ,life is but an empty dream6 ,for the soul is dead that slumbers1 ,and things are not what they seem4 ,life is real6 ,life is earnest6 ,and the grave is not its goal2 ,dust thou art1 to dust returnest1 ,was not spoken of the soul4 ,not enjoyment1 and not sorrow1 ,is our destined end or way2 ,but to act that each to-morrow ,finds us farther than to-day4 ,art is long1 and ,time is fleeting1 ,and our hearts1 though stout and brave1 ,still1 like muffled drums1 are beating ,funeral marches to the grave4 ,in the world's broad field of battle1 ,in the bivouac of ,life1 ,be not like dumb1 driven cattle6 ,be a hero in the strife6 ,trust no ,future1 howe'er pleasant6 ,let the dead ,past bury its dead6 ,act1 act in the living ,present6 ,heart within1 and ,god o'erhead6 ,lives of great men all remind us ,we can make our lives sublime1 ,and1 departing1 leave behind us ,footprints on the sands of time2 ,footprints1 that perhaps another1 ,sailing o'er life's solemn main1 ,a forlorn and shipwrecked brother1 ,seeing1 shall take heart again4 ,let us1 then1 be up and doing1 ,with a heart for any fate2 ,still achieving1 still pursuing1 ,learn to labor and to wait4 ,henry ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,johnny's ,hist'ry ,lesson ,i think1 of all the things at school ,a boy has got to do1 ,that studyin' hist'ry1 as a rule1 ,is worst of all1 don't you8 ,of dates there are an awful sight1 ,an' though ,i study day an' night1 ,there's only one ,i've got just right-- ,that's fourteen ninety-two4 ,columbus crossed the ,delaware ,in fourteen ninety-two2 ,we whipped the ,british1 fair an' square1 ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,at ,concord an' at ,lexington4 ,we kept the redcoats on the run1 ,while the band played ,johnny ,get ,your ,gun1 ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,pat ,henry1 with his dyin' breath-- ,in fourteen ninety-two-- ,said1 ,gimme liberty or death6 ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,an' ,barbara ,frietchie1 so 'tis said1 ,cried1 ,shoot if you must this old1 gray head1 ,but ,i'd rather 'twould be your own instead6 ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,the ,pilgrims came to ,plymouth ,rock ,in fourteen ninety-two1 ,an' the ,indians standin' on the dock ,asked1 ,what are you goin' to do8 ,an' they said1 ,we seek your harbor drear ,that our children's children's children dear ,may boast that their forefathers landed here ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,miss ,pocahontas saved the life-- ,in fourteen ninety-two-- ,of ,john ,smith1 an' became his wife ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,an' the ,smith tribe started then an' there1 ,an' now there are ,john ,smiths ev'rywhere1 ,but they didn't have any ,smiths to spare ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,kentucky was settled by ,daniel ,boone ,in fourteen ninety-two1 ,an' ,i think the cow jumped over the moon ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,ben ,franklin flew his kite so high ,he drew the lightnin' from the sky1 ,an' ,washington couldn't tell a lie1 ,in fourteen ninety-two4 ,nixon ,waterman4 ,riding on the ,rail ,singing through the forests1 rattling over ridges1 ,shooting under arches1 rumbling over bridges1 ,whizzing through the mountains1 buzzing o'er the vale1-- ,bless me6 this is pleasant1 riding on the rail6 ,men of different stations in the eye of ,fame1 ,here are very quickly coming to the same2 ,high and lowly people1 birds of every feather1 ,on a common level1 traveling together6 ,gentlemen in shorts1 blooming very tall2 ,gentlemen at large1 talking very small2 ,gentlemen in tights1 with a loosish mien2 ,gentlemen in gray1 looking very green6 ,gentlemen quite old1 asking for the news2 ,gentlemen in black1 with a fit of blues2 ,gentlemen in claret1 sober as a vicar2 ,gentlemen in tweed1 dreadfully in liquor6 ,stranger on the right looking very sunny1 ,obviously reading something very funny4 ,now the smiles are thicker--wonder what they mean8 ,faith1 he's got the ,knickerbocker ,magazine6 ,stranger on the left1 closing up his peepers2 ,now he snores again1 like the ,seven ,sleepers2 ,at his feet a volume gives the explanation1 ,how the man grew stupid from association6 ,ancient maiden lady anxiously remarks ,that there must be peril 'mong so many sparks2 ,roguish-looking fellow1 turning to the stranger1 ,says 'tis his opinion she is out of danger6 ,woman with her baby1 sitting vis a vis2 ,baby keeps a-squalling1 woman looks at me2 ,asks about the distance--says 'tis tiresome talking1 ,noises of the cars are so very shocking6 ,market woman1 careful of the precious casket1 ,knowing eggs are eggs1 tightly holds her basket2 ,feeling that a smash1 if it came1 would surely ,send her eggs to pot rather prematurely4 ,singing through the forests1 rattling over ridges1 ,shooting under arches1 rumbling over bridges1 ,whizzing through the mountains1 buzzing o'er the vale1-- ,bless me6 this is pleasant1 riding on the rail6 ,j4,g4 ,saxe4 ,the ,building of the ,ship ,,extract ,thou1 too1 sail on1 ,o ,ship of ,state6 ,sail on1 ,o ,union1 strong and great6 ,humanity with all its fears1 ,with all the hopes of future years1 ,is hanging breathless on thy fate6 ,we know what ,master laid thy keel1 ,what ,workmen wrought thy ribs of steel1 ,who made each mast1 and sail1 and rope1 ,what anvils rang1 what hammers beat1 ,in what a forge and what a heat ,were shaped the anchors of thy hope6 ,fear not each sudden sound and shock1 ',tis of the wave and not the rock2 ',tis but the flapping of the sail1 ,and not a rent made by the gale6 ,in spite of rock and tempest's roar1 ,in spite of false lights on the shore1 ,sail on1 nor fear to breast the sea6 ,our hearts1 our hopes1 are all with thee1 ,our hearts1 our hopes1 our prayers1 our tears1 ,our faith truiumphant o'er our fears1 ,are all with thee1--are all with thee6 ,h4,w4 ,longfellow4 ,the ,dead ,pussy ,cat ,you's as stiff an' as cold as a stone1 ,little cat6 ,dey's done frowed you out an' left you alone1 ,little cat6 ,i's a-strokin' you's fur1 ,but you don't never purr ,nor hump up anywhere1 ,little cat4 ,w'y is dat8 ,is you's purrin' an' humpin'-up done8 ,an' w'y fer is you's little foot tied1 ,little cat8 ,did dey pisen you's tummick inside1 ,little cat8 ,did dey pound you wif bricks1 ,or wif big nasty sticks1 ,or abuse you wif kicks1 ,little cat8 ,tell me dat1 ,did dey holler at all when you cwied8 ,did it hurt werry bad w'en you died1 ,little cat8 ,oh1 w'y didn't yo wun off and hide1 ,little cat8 ,i is wet in my eyes1 ',cause ,i most always cwies ,w'en a pussy cat dies1 ,little cat1 ,tink of dat1 ,an' ,i's awfully solly besides6 ,dest lay still dere in de sof gwown'1 ,little cat1 ,w'ile ,i tucks de gween gwass all awoun'1 ,little cat4 ,dey can't hurt you no more ,w'en you's tired an' so sore1 ,dest sleep twiet1 you pore ,little cat1 ,wif a pat1 ,an' fordet all de kicks of de town4 ,marion ,short4 ,the ,owl ,critic ,who stuffed that white owl8 ,no one spoke in the shop2 ,the barber was busy1 and he couldn't stop2 ,the customers1 waiting their turns1 were all reading ,the ,daily1 the ,herald1 the ,post1 little heeding ,the young man who blurted out such a blunt question2 ,not one raised a head1 or even made a suggestion2 ,and the barber kept on shaving4 ,don't you see1 ,mister ,brown1 ,cried the youth1 with a frown1 ,how wrong the whole thing is1 ,how preposterous each wing is4 ,how flattened the head is1 how jammed down the neck is-- ,in short1 the whole owl1 what an ignorant wreck 'tis6 ,i make no apology2 ,i've learned owleology4 ,i've passed days and nights in a hundred collections1 ,and cannot be blinded to any deflections ,arising from unskilful fingers that fail ,to stuff a bird right1 from his beak to his tail4 ,mister ,brown6 ,mister ,brown6 ,do take that bird down1 ,or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town6 ,and the barber kept on shaving4 ,i've studied owls1 ,and other night fowls1 ,and ,i tell you ,what ,i know to be true3 ,an owl cannot roost ,with his limbs so unloosed2 ,no owl in this world ,ever had his claws curled1 ,ever had his legs slanted1 ,ever had his bill canted1 ,ever had his neck screwed ,into that attitude4 ,he can't do it1 because ',tis against all bird laws4 ,anatomy teaches1 ,ornithology preaches1 ,an owl has a toe ,that can't turn out so6 ,i've made the white owl my study for years1 ,and to see such a job almost moves me to tears6 ,mister ,brown1 ,i'm amazed ,you should be so gone crazed ,as to put up a bird ,in that posture absurd6 ,to look at that owl really brings on a dizziness2 ,the man who stuffed him don't half know his business6 ,and the barber kept on shaving4 ,examine those eyes4 ,i'm filled with surprise ,taxidermists should pass ,off on you such poor glass2 ,so unnatural they seem ,they'd make ,audubon scream1 ,and ,john ,burroughs laugh ,to encounter such chaff4 ,do take that bird down2 ,have him stuffed again1 ,brown6 ,and the barber kept on shaving4 ,with some sawdust and bark ,i could stuff in the dark ,an owl better than that4 ,i could make an old hat ,look more like an owl ,than that horrid fowl1 ,stuck up here so stiff like a side of coarse leather4 ,in fact1 about him there's not one natural feather4 ,just then1 with a wink and a sly normal lurch1 ,the owl1 very gravely1 got down from his perch1 ,walked round1 and regarded his fault-finding critic 7,who thought he was stuffed7 with a glance analytic1 ,and then fairly hooted1 as if he should say3 ,your learning's at fault this time1 anyway2 ,don't waste it again on a live bird1 ,i pray4 ,i'm an owl2 you're another4 ,sir ,critic1 good-day6 ,and the barber kept on shaving4 ,james ,t4 ,fields4 ,at ,school-,close ,the end has come1 as come it must ,to all things2 in these sweet ,june days ,the teacher and the scholar trust ,their parting feet to separate ways4 ,they part3 but in the years to be ,shall pleasant memories cling to each1 ,as shells bear inland from the sea ,the murmur of the rhythmic beach4 ,one knew the joys the sculptor knows ,when1 plastic to his lightest touch1 ,his clay-wrought model slowly grows ,to that fine grace desired so much4 ,so daily grew before her eyes ,the living shapes whereon she wrought1 ,strong1 tender1 innocently wise1 ,the child's heart with the woman's thought4 ,and one shall never quite forget ,the voice that called from dream and play1 ,the firm but kindly hand that set ,her feet in learning's pleasant way1-- ,the joy of ,undine soul-possessed1 ,the wakening sense1 the strange delight ,that swelled the fabled statue's breast ,and filled its clouded eyes with sight6 ,o ,youth and ,beauty1 loved of all6 ,ye pass from girlhood's gate of dreams2 ,in broader ways your footsteps fall1 ,ye test the truth of all that seems4 ,her little realm the teacher leaves1 ,she breaks her wand of power apart1 ,while1 for your love and trust1 she gives ,the warm thanks of a grateful heart4 ,hers is the sober summer noon ,contrasted with your morn of spring2 ,the waning with the waxing moon1 ,the folded with the outspread wing4 ,across the distance of the years ,she sends her ,god-speed back to you2 ,she has no thought of doubts or fears2 ,be but yourselves1 be pure1 be true1 ,and prompt in duty2 heed the deep1 ,low voice of conscience2 through the ill ,and discord round about you1 keep ,your faith in human nature still4 ,be gentle3 unto griefs and needs ,be pitiful as woman should1 ,and1 spite of all the lies of creeds1 ,hold fast the truth that ,god is good4 ,give and receive2 go forth and bless ,the world that needs the hand and heart ,of ,martha's helpful carefulness ,no less than ,mary's better part4 ,so shall the stream of time flow by ,and leave each year a richer good1 ,and matron loveliness outvie ,the nameless charm of maidenhood4 ,and1 when the world shall link your names ,with gracious lives and manners fine1 ,the teacher shall assert her claims1 ,and proudly whisper1 ,these were mine6 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,the ,wild ,white ,rose ,oh1 that ,i might have my request1 and that ,god would grant me the thing that ,i long for4--,job #f3h4 ,it was peeping through the brambles1 that little wild white rose1 ,where the hawthorn hedge was planted1 my garden to enclose4 ,all beyond was fern and heather1 on the breezy1 open moor2 ,all within was sun and shelter1 and the wealth of beauty's store4 ,but ,i did not heed the fragrance of flow'ret or of tree1 ,for my eyes were on that rosebud1 and it grew too high for me4 ,in vain ,i strove to reach it through the tangled mass of green1 ,it only smiled and nodded behind its thorny screen4 ,yet through that summer morning ,i lingered near the spot3 ,oh1 why do things seem sweeter if we possess them not8 ,my garden buds were blooming1 but all that ,i could see ,was that little mocking wild rose1 hanging just too high for me4 ,so in life's wider garden there are buds of promise1 too1 ,beyond our reach to gather1 but not beyond our view2 ,and like the little charmer that tempted me astray1 ,they steal out half the brightness of many a summer's day4 ,oh1 hearts that fail with longing for some forbidden tree1 ,look up and learn a lesson from my white rose and me4 ',tis wiser far to number the blessings at my feet1 ,than ever to be sighing for just one bud more sweet4 ,my sunbeams and my shadows fall from a pierced ,hand1 ,i can surely trust ,his wisdom since ,his heart ,i understand2 ,and maybe in the morning1 when ,his blessed face ,i see1 ,he will tell me why my white rose grew just too high for me4 ,ellen ,h4 ,willis4 ,l',envoi ,when ,earth's last picture is painted1 and the tubes are twisted and dried1 ,when the oldest colors have faded1 and the youngest critic has died1 ,we shall rest1 and1 faith1 we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two1 ,till the ,master of ,all ,good ,workmen shall set us to work anew6 ,and those who were good shall be happy3 they shall sit in a golden chair2 ,they shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair2 ,they shall find real saints to draw from--,magdalene1 ,peter and ,paul2 ,they shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all4 ,and only the ,master shall praise us1 and only the ,master shall blame2 ,and no one shall work for money1 and no one shall work for fame2 ,but each for the joy of the working1 and each1 in his separate star1 ,shall draw the ,thing as he sees ,it for the ,god of ,things as ,they ,are6 ,rudyard ,kipling4 ,whistling in ,heaven ,you're surprised that ,i ever should say so8 ,just wait till the reason ,i've given ,why ,i say ,i sha'n't care for the music1 ,unless there is whistling in heaven4 ,then you'll think it no very great wonder1 ,nor so strange1 nor so bold a conceit1 ,that unless there's a boy there a-whistling1 ,its music will not be complete4 ,it was late in the autumn of '#dj2 ,we had come from our far ,eastern home ,just in season to build us a cabin1 ,ere the cold of the winter should come2 ,and we lived all the while in our wagon ,that husband was clearing the place ,where the house was to stand2 and the clearing ,and building it took many days4 ,so that our heads were scarce sheltered ,in under its roof when our store ,of provisions was almost exhausted1 ,and husband must journey for more2 ,and the nearest place where he could get them ,was yet such a distance away1 ,that it forced him from home to be absent ,at least a whole night and a day4 ,you see1 we'd but two or three neighbors1 ,and the nearest was more than a mile2 ,and we hadn't found time yet to know them1 ,for we had been busy the while4 ,and the man who had helped at the raising ,just staid till the job was well done2 ,and as soon as his money was paid him ,had shouldered his axe and had gone4 ,well1 husband just kissed me and started-- ,i could scarcely suppress a deep groan ,at the thought of remaining with baby ,so long in the house alone2 ,for1 my dear1 ,i was childish and timid1 ,and braver ones might well have feared1 ,for the wild wolf was often heard howling4 ,and savages sometimes appeared4 ,but ,i smothered my grief and my terror ,till husband was off on his ride1 ,and then in my arms ,i took ,josey1 ,and all the day long sat and cried1 ,as ,i thought of the long1 dreary hours ,when the darkness of night should fall1 ,and ,i was so utterly helpless1 ,with no one in reach of my call4 ,and when the night came with its terrors1 ,to hide ev'ry ray of light1 ,i hung up a quilt by the window1 ,and1 almost dead with affright1 ,i kneeled by the side of the cradle1 ,scarce daring to draw a full breath1 ,lest the baby should wake1 and its crying ,should bring us a horrible death4 ,there ,i knelt until late in the evening ,and scarcely an inch had ,i stirred1 ,when suddenly1 far in the distance1 ,a sound as of whistling ,i heard4 ,i started up dreadfully frightened1 ,for fear 'twas an ,indian's call2 ,and then very soon ,i remembered ,the red man ne'er whistles at all4 ,and when ,i was sure 'twas a white man1 ,i thought1 were he coming for ill1 ,he'd surely approach with more caution-- ,would come without warning1 and still4 ,then the sound1 coming nearer and nearer1 ,took the form of a tune light and gay1 ,and ,i knew ,i needn't fear evil ,from one who could whistle that way4 ,very soon ,i heard footsteps approaching1 ,then came a peculiar dull thump1 ,as if some one was heavily striking ,an ax in the top of a stump2 ,and then1 in another brief moment1 ,there came a light tap on the door1 ,when quickly ,i undid the fast'ning1 ,and in stepped a boy1 and before ,there was either a question or answer ,or either had time to speak1 ,i just threw my glad arms around him1 ,and gave him a kiss on the cheek4 ,then ,i started back1 scared at my boldness4 ,but he only smiled at my fright1 ,as he said1 ,i'm your neighbor's boy1 ,ellick1 ,come to tarry with you through the night4 ,we saw your husband go eastward1 ,and made up our minds where he'd gone1 ,and ,i said to the rest of our people1 ',that woman is there all alone1 ,and ,i venture she's awfully lonesome1 ,and though she may have no great fear1 ,i think she would feel a bit safer ,if only a boy were but near4' ,so1 taking my axe on my shoulder1 ,for fear that a savage might stray ,across my path and need scalping1 ,i started right down this way2 ,and coming in sight of the cabin1 ,and thinking to save you alarm1 ,i whistled a tune1 just to show you ,i didn't intend any harm4 ,and so here ,i am1 at your service2 ,but if you don't want me to stay1 ,why1 all you need do is to say so1 ,and should'ring my axe1 ,i'll away4 ,i dropped in a chair and near fainted1 ,just at thought of his leaving me then1 ,and his eye gave a knowing bright twinkle ,as he said1 ,i guess ,i'll remain4 ,and then ,i just sat there and told him ,how terribly frightened ,i'd been1 ,how his face was to me the most welcome ,of any ,i ever had seen2 ,and then ,i lay down with the baby1 ,and slept all the blessed night through1 ,for ,i felt ,i was safe from all danger ,near so brave a young fellow1 and true4 ,so now1 my dear friend1 do you wonder1 ,since such a good reason ,i've given1 ,why ,i say ,i sha'n't care for the music1 ,unless there is whistling in heaven8 ,yes1 often ,i've said so in earnest1 ,and now what ,i've said ,i repeat1 ,that unless there's a boy there a-whistling1 ,its music will not be complete4 ,sleep1 ,baby1 ,sleep ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,thy father's watching the sheep1 ,thy mother's shaking the dreamland tree1 ,and down drops a little dream for thee4 ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,the large stars are the sheep1 ,the little stars are the lambs1 ,i guess1 ,the bright moon is the shepherdess4 ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,thy ,savior loves ,his sheep2 ,he is the ,lamb of ,god on high ,who for our sakes came down to die4 ,sleep1 baby1 sleep6 ,elizabeth ,prentiss4 ,the ,lost ,chord ,seated one day at the organ1 ,i was weary and ill at ease1 ,and my fingers wandered idly ,over the noisy keys4 ,i do not know what ,i was playing1 ,or what ,i was dreaming then2 ,but ,i struck one chord of music1 ,like the sound of a great ,amen4 ,it flooded the crimson twilight1 ,like the close of an angel's psalm2 ,and it lay on my fevered spirit ,with a touch of infinite calm4 ,it quieted pain and sorrow1 ,like love overcoming strife2 ,it seemed the harmonious echo ,from our discordant life4 ,it linked all perplexing meanings ,into one perfect peace1 ,and trembled away into silence ,as if it were loth to cease4 ,i have sought1 but ,i seek it vainly1 ,that one lost chord divine1 ,that came from the soul of the organ1 ,and entered into mine4 ,it may be that ,death's bright angel ,will speak in that chord again2 ,it may be that only in ,heaven ,i shall hear that grand ,amen4 ,adelaide ,a4 ,procter4 ,the ,children's ,hour ,between the dark and the daylight1 ,when the night is beginning to lower1 ,comes a pause in the day's occupations1 ,that is known as the ,children's ,hour4 ,i hear in the chamber above me ,the patter of little feet1 ,the sound of a door that is opened1 ,and voices soft and sweet4 ,from my study ,i see in the lamplight1 ,descending the broad hall stair1 ,grave ,alice1 and laughing ,allegra1 ,and ,edith with golden hair4 ,a whisper1 and then a silence3 ,yet ,i know by their merry eyes ,they are plotting and planning together ,to take me by surprise4 ,a sudden rush from the stairway1 ,a sudden raid from the hall6 ,by three doors left unguarded ,they enter my castle wall6 ,they climb up into my turret ,o'er the arms and back of my chair2 ,if ,i try to escape1 they surround me2 ,they seem to be everywhere4 ,they almost devour me with kisses1 ,their arms about me entwine1 ,till ,i think of the ,bishop of ,bingen ,in his ,mouse-tower on the ,rhine6 ,do you think1 ,o blue-eyed banditti1 ,because you have scaled the wall1 ,such an old mustache as ,i am ,is not a match for you all6 ,i have you fast in my fortress1 ,and will not let you depart1 ,but put you down into the dungeon ,in the round-tower of my heart4 ,and there will ,i keep you forever1 ,yes1 forever and a day1 ,till the walls shall crumble to ruin1 ,and moulder in dust away6 ,henry ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,woodman1 ,spare ,that ,tree6 ,woodman1 spare that tree6 ,touch not a single bough6 ,in youth it sheltered me1 ,and ,i'll protect it now4 ',t was my forefather's hand ,that placed it near his cot2 ,there1 woodman1 let it stand4 ,thy ax shall harm it not6 ,that old familiar tree1 ,whose glory and renown ,are spread o'er land and sea-- ,and wouldst thou hew it down8 ,woodman1 forbear thy stroke6 ,cut not its earth-bound ties2 ,oh1 spare that aged oak1 ,now towering to the skies6 ,when but an idle boy1 ,i sought its grateful shade2 ,in all their gushing joy ,here1 too1 my sisters played4 ,my mother kissed me here2 ,my father pressed my hand-- ,forgive this foolish tear1 ,but let that old oak stand6 ,my heart-strings round thee cling1 ,close as thy bark1 old friend6 ,here shall the wild-bird sing1 ,and still thy branches bend4 ,old tree6 the storm still brave6 ,and1 woodman1 leave the spot2 ,while ,i've a hand to save1 ,thy ax shall harm it not6 ,george ,pope ,morris4 ,little ,brown ,hands ,they drive home the cows from the pasture1 ,up through the long shady lane1 ,where the quail whistles loud in the wheat-fields1 ,that are yellow with ripening grain4 ,they find1 in the thick waving grasses1 ,where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows4 ,they gather the earliest snowdrops1 ,and the first crimson buds of the rose4 ,they toss the new hay in the meadow1 ,they gather the elder-bloom white1 ,they find where the dusky grapes purple ,in the soft-tinted ,october light4 ,they know where the apples hang ripest1 ,and are sweeter than ,italy's wines2 ,they know where the fruit hangs the thickest ,on the long1 thorny blackberry vines4 ,they gather the delicate sea-weeds1 ,and build tiny castles of sand2 ,they pick up the beautiful sea shells-- ,fairy barks that have drifted to land4 ,they wave from the tall1 rocking tree-tops1 ,where the oriole's hammock-nest swings1 ,and at night time are folded in slumber ,by a song that a fond mother sings4 ,those who toil bravely are strongest2 ,the humble and poor become great2 ,and so from these brown-handed children ,shall grow mighty rulers of state4 ,the pen of the author and statesman1-- ,the noble and wise of the land1-- ,the sword1 and the chisel1 and palette1 ,shall be held in the little brown hand4 ,mary ,h4 ,krout4 ,barbara ,frietchie ,up from the meadows rich with corn ,clear in the cool ,september morn1 ,the clustered spires of ,frederick stand ,green-walled by the hills of ,maryland4 ,round about them orchards sweep1 ,apple and peach tree fruited deep1 ,fair as the garden of the ,lord ,to the eyes of the famished rebel horde1 ,on that pleasant morn of the early fall ,when ,lee marched over the mountain-wall1-- ,over the mountains winding down1 ,horse and foot1 into ,frederick town4 ,forty flags with their silver stars1 ,forty flags with their crimson bars1 ,flapped in the morning wind2 the sun ,of noon looked down1 and saw not one4 ,up rose old ,barbara ,frietchie then1 ,bowed with her fourscore years and ten2 ,bravest of all in ,frederick town1 ,she took up the flag the men hauled down2 ,in her attic window the staff she set1 ,to show that one heart was loyal yet4 ,up the street came the rebel tread1 ,stonewall ,jackson riding ahead4 ,under his slouched hat left and right ,he glanced2 the old flag met his sight4 ,halt6--the dust-brown ranks stood fast4 ,fire6--out blazed the rifle-blast4 ,it shivered the window1 pane and sash2 ,it rent the banner with seam and gash4 ,quick1 as it fell1 from the broken staff ,dame ,barbara snatched the silken scarf2 ,she leaned far out on the window-sill1 ,and shook it forth with a royal will4 ,shoot1 if you must1 this old gray head1 ,but spare your country's flag1 she said4 ,a shade of sadness1 a blush of shame1 ,over the face of the leader came2 ,the nobler nature within him stirred ,to life at that woman's deed and word3 ,who touches a hair of yon gray head ,dies like a dog2 march on6 he said4 ,all day long through ,frederick street ,sounded the tread of marching feet2 ,all day long that free flag tost ,over the heads of the rebel host4 ,ever its torn folds rose and fell ,on the loyal winds that loved it well2 ,and through the hill-gaps sunset light ,shone over it a warm good night4 ,barbara ,frietchie's work is o'er4 ,and the ,rebel rides on his raids no more4 ,honor to her6 and let a tear ,fall1 for her sake1 on ,stonewall's bier4 ,over ,barbara ,frietchie's grave1 ,flag of freedom and ,union wave6 ,peace and order and beauty draw ,round thy symbol of light and law2 ,and ever the stars above look down ,on thy stars below in ,frederick town4 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,i ,want to ,go to ,morrow ,i started on a journey just about a week ago1 ,for the little town of ,morrow1 in the ,state of ,ohio4 ,i never was a traveler1 and really didn't know ,that ,morrow had been ridiculed a century or so4 ,i went down to the depot for my ticket and applied ,for the tips regarding ,morrow1 not expecting to be guyed4 ,said ,i1 ,my friend1 ,i want to go to ,morrow and return ,not later than to-morrow1 for ,i haven't time to burn4 ,said he to me1 ,now let me see if ,i have heard you right1 ,you want to go to ,morrow and come back to-morrow night4 ,you should have gone to ,morrow yesterday and back to-day1 ,for if you started yesterday to ,morrow1 don't you see1 ,you could have got to ,morrow and returned to-day at three4 ,the train that started yesterday--now understand me right-- ,to-day it gets to ,morrow1 and returns to-morrow night4 ,said ,i1 ,my boy1 it seems to me you're talking through your hat1 ,is there a town named ,morrow on your line8 ,now tell me that4 ,there is1 said he1 and take from me a quiet little tip-- ,to go from here to ,morrow is a fourteen-hour trip4 ,the train that goes to ,morrow leaves to-day eight-thirty-five2 ,half after ten to-morrow is the time it should arrive4 ,now if from here to ,morrow is a fourteen-hour jump1 ,can you go to-day to ,morrow and come back to-day1 you chump8 ,said ,i1 ,i want to go to ,morrow2 can ,i go to-day ,and get to ,morrow by to-night1 if there is no delay8 ,well1 well1 said he1 explain to me and ,i've no more to say2 ,can you go anywhere to-morrow and come back from there to-day8 ,for if to-day you'd get to ,morrow1 surely you'll agree ,you should have started not to-day1 but yesterday1 you see4 ,so if you start to ,morrow1 leaving here to-day1 you're flat1 ,you won't get to ,morrow till the day that follows that4 ,now if you start to-day to ,morrow1 it's a cinch you'll land ,to-morrow into ,morrow1 not to-day1 you understand4 ,for the train to-day to ,morrow1 if the schedule is right1 ,will get you into ,morrow by about to-morrow night4 ,said ,i1 ,i guess you know it all1 but kindly let me say1 ,how can ,i go to ,morrow1 if ,i leave the town to-day8 ,said he1 ,you cannot go to ,morrow any more to-day1 ,for the train that goes to ,morrow is a mile upon its way4 ,,finale ,i was so disappointed ,i was mad enough to swear2 ,the train had gone to ,morrow and had left me standing there4 ,the man was right in telling me ,i was a howling jay2 ,i didn't go to ,morrow1 so ,i guess ,i'll go to-day4 ,out in the ,fields ,the little cares that fretted me1 ,i lost them yesterday ,among the fields above the seas1 ,among the winds at play2 ,among the lowing of the herds1 ,the rustling of the trees1 ,among the singing of the birds1 ,the humming of the bees4 ,the foolish fears of what might happen1-- ,i cast them all away ,among the clover-scented grass1 ,among the new-mown hay2 ,among the husking of the corn1 ,where drowsy poppies nod1 ,where ill thoughts die and good are born1 ,out in the fields with ,god4 ,elizabeth ,barrett ,browning4 ,the ,bluebird's ,song ,i know the song that the bluebird is singing1 ,out in the apple tree where he is swinging4 ,brave little fellow6 the skies may be dreary-- ,nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery4 ,hark6 how the music leaps out from his throat6 ,hark6 was there ever so merry a note8 ,listen a while1 and you'll hear what he's saying1 ,up in the apple tree swinging and swaying4 ,dear little blossoms down under the snow1 ,you must be weary of winter ,i know4 ,listen1 ,i'll sing you a message of cheer6 ,summer is coming6 and springtime is here6 ,little white snowdrop6 ,i pray you arise2 ,bright yellow crocus6 please open your eyes2 ,sweet little violets1 hid from the cold1 ,put on your mantles of purple and gold2 ,daffodils6 ,daffodils6 say1 do you hear8-- ,summer is coming1 and springtime is here6 ,emily ,huntington ,miller4 ,the ,main ,truck1 or a ,leap for ,life ,old ,ironsides at anchor lay1 ,in the harbor of ,mahon2 ,a dead calm rested on the bay1-- ,the waves to sleep had gone2 ,when little ,hal1 the ,captain's son1 ,a lad both brave and good1 ,in sport1 up shroud and rigging ran1 ,and on the main truck stood6 ,a shudder shot through every vein1-- ,all eyes were turned on high6 ,there stood the boy1 with dizzy brain1 ,between the sea and sky2 ,no hold had he above1 below2 ,alone he stood in air3 ,to that far height none dared to go1-- ,no aid could reach him there4 ,we gazed1 but not a man could speak1-- ,with horror all aghast1-- ,in groups1 with pallid brow and cheek1-- ,we watched the quivering mast4 ,the atmosphere grew thick and hot1 ,and of a lurid hue2-- ,as riveted unto the spot1 ,stood officers and crew4 ,the father came on deck3--he gasped1 ,oh1 ,god2 thy will be done6 ,then suddenly a rifle grasped1 ,and aimed it at his son4 ,jump1 far out1 boy1 into the wave6 ,jump1 or ,i fire1 he said2 ,that only chance your life can save2 ,jump1 jump1 boy6 ,he obeyed4 ,he sunk1--he rose1--he lived1--he moved1-- ,and for the ship struck out4 ,on board we hailed the lad beloved1 ,with many a manly shout4 ,his father drew1 in silent joy1 ,those wet arms round his neck1 ,and folded to his heart his boy1-- ,then fainted on the deck4 ,morris4 ,the ,arrow and the ,song ,i shot an arrow into the air1 ,it fell to earth1 ,i knew not where2 ,for1 so swiftly it flew1 the sight ,could not follow it in its flight4 ,i breathed a song into the air1 ,it fell to earth1 ,i knew not where2 ,for who has sight so keen and strong1 ,that it can follow the flight of song8 ,long1 long afterward1 in an oak ,i found the arrow1 still unbroke2 ,and the song1 from beginning to end1 ,i found again in the heart of a friend4 ,h4,w4 ,longfellow4 ,the ,green ,mountain ,justice ,the snow is deep1 the ,justice said2 ,there's mighty mischief overhead4 ,high talk1 indeed6 his wife exclaimed2 ,what1 sir6 shall ,providence be blamed8 ,the ,justice1 laughing1 said1 ,oh no6 ,i only meant the loads of snow ,upon the roofs4 ,the barn is weak2 ,i greatly fear the roof will break4 ,so hand me up the spade1 my dear1 ,i'll mount the barn1 the roof to clear4 ,no6 said the wife2 the barn is high1 ,and if you slip1 and fall1 and die1 ,how will my living be secured8-- ,stephen1 your life is not insured4 ,but tie a rope your waist around1 ,and it will hold you safe and sound4 ,i will1 said he4 ,now for the roof-- ,all snugly tied1 and danger-proof6 ,excelsior6 ,excel--,but no6 ,the rope is not secured below6 ,said ,rachel1 ,climb1 the end to throw ,across the top1 and ,i will go ,and tie that end around my waist4 ,well1 every woman to her taste2 ,you always would be tightly laced4 ,rachel1 when you became my bride1 ,i thought the knot securely tied2 ,but lest the bond should break in twain1 ,i'll have it fastened once again4 ,below the arm-pits tied around1 ,she takes her station on the ground1 ,while on the roof1 beyond the ridge1 ,he shovels clear the lower edge4 ,but1 sad mischance6 the loosened snow ,comes sliding down1 to plunge below4 ,and as he tumbles with the slide1 ,up ,rachel goes on t'other side4 ,just half-way down the ,justice hung2 ,just half-way up the woman swung4 ,good land o' ,goshen6 shouted she2 ,why1 do you see it8 answered he4 ,the couple1 dangling in the breeze1 ,like turkeys hung outside to freeze1 ,at their rope's end and wits' end1 too1 ,shout back and forth what best to do4 ,cried ,stephen1 ,take it coolly1 wife2 ,all have their ups and downs in life4 ,quoth ,rachel1 ,what a pity 'tis ,to joke at such a thing as this6 ,a man whose wife is being hung ,should know enough to hold his tongue4 ,now1 ,rachel1 as ,i look below1 ,i see a tempting heap of snow4 ,suppose1 my dear1 ,i take my knife1 ,and cut the rope to save my life8 ,she shouted1 ,don't6 'twould be my death-- ,i see some pointed stones beneath4 ,a better way would be to call1 ,with all our might1 for ,phebe ,hall4 ,agreed6 he roared4 ,first he1 then she ,gave tongue2 ,o ,phebe6 ,phebe6 ,phe-e-be ,hall6 in tones both fine and coarse4 ,enough to make a drover hoarse4 ,now ,phebe1 over at the farm1 ,was sitting1 sewing1 snug and warm2 ,but hearing1 as she thought1 her name1 ,sprang up1 and to the rescue came2 ,beheld the scene1 and thus she thought3 ,if now a kitchen chair were brought1 ,and ,i could reach the lady's foot1 ,i'd draw her downward by the boot1 ,then cut the rope1 and let him go2 ,he cannot miss the pile of snow4 ,he sees her moving toward his wife4 ,armed with a chair and carving-knife1 ,and1 ere he is aware1 perceives ,his head ascending to the eaves2 ,and1 guessing what the two are at1 ,screams from beneath the roof1 ,stop that6 ,you make me fall too far1 by half6 ,but ,phebe answers1 with a laugh1 ,please tell a body by what right ,you've brought your wife to such a plight6 ,and then1 with well-directed blows1 ,she cuts the rope and down he goes4 ,the wife untied1 they walk around ,when lo6 no ,stephen can be found4 ,they call in vain1 run to and fro2 ,they look around1 above1 below2 ,no trace or token can they see1 ,and deeper grows the mystery4 ,then ,rachel's heart within her sank2 ,but1 glancing at the snowy bank1 ,she caught a little gleam of hope1-- ,a gentle movement of the rope4 ,they scrape away a little snow2 ,what's this8 ,a hat6 ,ah6 he's below2 ,then upward heaves the snowy pile1 ,and forth he stalks in tragic style1 ,unhurt1 and with a roguish smile2 ,and ,rachel sees1 with glad surprise1 ,the missing found1 the fallen rise4 ,rev4 ,henry ,reeves4 ,jane ,conquest ,about the time of ,christmas 7,not many months ago71 ,when the sky was black ,with wrath and rack1 ,and the earth was white with snow1 ,when loudly rang the tumult ,of winds and waves of strife1 ,in her home by the sea1 ,with her babe on her knee1 ,sat ,harry ,conquest's wife4 ,and he was on the ocean1 ,although she knew not where1 ,for never a lip ,could tell of the ship1 ,to lighten her heart's despair4 ,and her babe was fading and dying2 ,the pulse in the tiny wrist ,was all but still1 ,and the brow was chill1 ,and pale as the white sea mist4 ,jane ,conquest's heart was hopeless2 ,she could only weep and pray ,that the ,shepherd mild ,would take her child ,without a pain away4 ,the night was dark and darker1 ,and the storm grew stronger still1 ,and buried in deep ,and dreamless sleep ,lay the hamlet under the hill4 ,the fire was dead on the hearthstone ,within ,jane ,conquest's room1 ,and still sat she1 ,with her babe on her knee1 ,at prayer amid the gloom4 ,when1 borne above the tempest1 ,a sound fell on her ear1 ,thrilling her through1 ,for well she knew ',twas the voice of mortal fear4 ,and a light leaped in at the lattice1 ,sudden and swift and red2 ,crimsoning all1 ,the whited wall1 ,and the floor1 and the roof o'erhead4 ,for one brief moment1 heedless ,of the babe upon her knee1 ,with the frenzied start ,of a frightened heart1 ,upon her feet rose she4 ,and through the quaint old casement ,she looks upon the sea2 ,thank ,god that the sight ,she saw that night ,so rare a sight should be6 ,hemmed in by many a billow ,with mad and foaming lip1 ,a mile from shore1 ,or hardly more1 ,she saw a gallant ship4 ,and to her horror she beheld it ,aflame from stem to stern2 ,for there seemed no speck ,on all that wreck ,where the fierce fire did not burn2 ,till the night was like a sunset1 ,and the sea like a sea of blood1 ,and the rocks and shore ,were bathed all o'er ,and drenched with the gory flood4 ,she looked and looked1 till the terror ,went creeping through every limb2 ,and her breath came quick1 ,and her heart grew sick1 ,and her sight grew dizzy and dim2 ,and her lips had lost their utterance1 ,for she tried but could not speak2 ,and her feelings found ,no channel of sound ,in prayer1 or sob1 or shriek4 ,once more that cry of anguish ,thrilled through the tempest's strife1 ,and it stirred again ,in heart and brain ,the active thinking life2 ,and the light of an inspiration ,leaped to her brightened eye1 ,and on lip and brow ,was written now ,a purpose pure and high4 ,swiftly she turns1 and softly ,she crosses the chamber floor1 ,and faltering not1 ,in his tiny cot ,she laid the babe she bore4 ,and then with a holy impulse1 ,she sank to her knees1 and made ,a lowly prayer1 ,in the silence there1 ,and this was the prayer she prayed3 ,o ,christ1 who didst bear the scourging1 ,and who now dost wear the crown1 ,i at ,thy feet1 ,o ,true and ,sweet1 ,would lay my burden down4 ,thou bad'st me love and cherish ,the babe ,thou gavest me1 ,and ,i have kept ,thy word1 nor stept ,aside from following ,thee4 ,and lo6 my boy is dying6 ,and vain is all my care2 ,and my burden's weight ,is very great1 ,yea1 greater than ,i can bear6 ,o ,lord1 ,thou know'st what peril ,doth threat these poor men's lives1 ,and ,i1 a woman1 ,most weak and human1 ,do plead for their waiting wives4 ,thou canst not let them perish2 ,up1 ,lord1 in ,thy strength1 and save ,from the scorching breath ,of this terrible death ,on this cruel winter wave4 ,take ,thou my babe and watch it1 ,no care is like to ,thine2 ,and let ,thy power ,in this perilous hour ,supply what lack is mine4 ,and so her prayer she ended1 ,and rising to her feet1 ,gave one long look ,at the cradle nook ,where the child's faint pulses beat2 ,and then with softest footsteps ,retrod the chamber floor1 ,and noiselessly groped ,for the latch1 and oped1 ,and crossed the cottage door4 ,and through the tempest bravely ,jane ,conquest fought her way1 ,by snowy deep ,and slippery steep ,to where her duty lay4 ,and she journeyed onward1 breathless1 ,and weary and sore and faint1 ,yet forward pressed ,with the strength1 and the zest1 ,and the ardor of a saint4 ,solemn1 and weird1 and lonely ,amid its countless graves1 ,stood the old gray church ,on its tall rock perch1 ,secure from the sea and its waves2 ,and beneath its sacred shadow ,lay the hamlet safe and still2 ,for however the sea ,and the wind might be1 ,there was quiet under the hill4 ,jane ,conquest reached the churchyard1 ,and stood by the old church door1 ,but the oak was tough ,and had bolts enough1 ,and her strength was frail and poor2 ,so she crept through a narrow window1 ,and climbed the belfry stair1 ,and grasped the rope1 ,sole cord of hope1 ,for the mariners in despair4 ,and the wild wind helped her bravely1 ,and she wrought with an earnest will1 ,and the clamorous bell ,spoke out right well ,to the hamlet under the hill4 ,and it roused the slumbering fishers1 ,nor its warning task gave o'er ,till a hundred fleet ,and eager feet ,were hurrying to the shore4 ,and then it ceased its ringing1 ,for the woman's work was done1 ,and many a boat ,that was now afloat ,showed man's work had begun4 ,but the ringer in the belfry ,lay motionless and cold1 ,with the cord of hope4 ,the church-bell rope1 ,still in her frozen hold4 ,how long she lay it boots not1 ,but she woke from her swoon at last ,in her own bright room4 ,to find the gloom1 ,and the grief1 and the peril past1 ,with the sense of joy within her1 ,and the ,christ's sweet presence near2 ,and friends around1 ,and the cooing sound ,of her babe's voice in her ear4 ,and they told her all the story1 ,how a brave and gallant few ,o'ercame each check1 ,and reached the wreck1 ,and saved the hopeless crew4 ,and how the curious sexton ,had climbed the belfry stair1 ,and of his fright ,when1 cold and white1 ,he found her lying there2 ,and how1 when they had borne her ,back to her home again1 ,the child she left ,with a heart bereft ,of hope1 and weary with pain1 ,was found within his cradle ,in a quiet slumber laid2 ,with a peaceful smile ,on his lips the while1 ,and the wasting sickness stayed4 ,and she said ,twas the ,christ who watched it1 ,and brought it safely through2 ,and she praised ,his truth ,and ,his tender ruth ,who had saved her darling too4 ,nathan ,hale ,to drum beat and heart beat1 ,a soldier marches by1 ,there is color in his cheek1 ,there is courage in his eye2 ,yet to drum beat and heart beat1 ,in a moment he must die4 ,by starlight and moonlight1 ,he seeks the ,britons' camp2 ,he hears the rustling flag1 ,and the armed sentry's tramp2 ,and the starlight and moonlight ,his silent wanderings lamp4 ,with a slow tread and still tread1 ,he scans the tented line1 ,and he counts the battery guns ,by the gaunt and shadowy pine1 ,and his slow tread and still tread ,gives no warning sign4 ,the dark wave1 the plumed wave1 ,it meets his eager glance2 ,and it sparkles 'neath the stars1 ,like the glimmer of a lance-- ,a dark wave1 a plumed wave1 ,on an emerald expanse4 ,a sharp clang1 a steel clang1 ,and terror in the sound6 ,for the sentry1 falcon-eyed1 ,in the camp a spy has found2 ,with a sharp clang1 a steel clang1 ,the patriot is bound4 ,with calm brow1 steady brow1 ,he listens to his doom4 ,in his look there is no fear1 ,nor a shadow trace of gloom1 ,but with calm brow1 steady brow1 ,he robes him for the tomb4 ,in the long night1 the still night1 ,he kneels upon the sod2 ,and the brutal guards withhold ,e'en the solemn word of ,god6 ,in the long night1 the still night1 ,he walks where ,christ hath trod4 ',neath the blue morn1 the sunny morn1 ,he dies upon the tree2 ,and he mourns that he can give ,but one life for liberty2 ,and in the blue morn1 the sunny morn ,his spent wings are free4 ,but his last words1 his message words1 ,they burn1 lest friendly eye ,should read how proud and calm ,a patriot could die4 ,with his last words1 his dying words1 ,a soldier's battle cry4 ,from ,fame-leaf and ,angel-leaf1 ,from monument and urn1 ,the sad of earth1 the glad of ,heaven1 ,his tragic fate shall learn2 ,and on ,fame-leaf and ,angel-leaf1 ,the name of ,hale shall burn4 ,francis ,m4 ,finch4 ,the ,lips ,that ,touch ,liquor ,must ,never ,touch ,mine ,you are coming to woo me1 but not as of yore1 ,when ,i hastened to welcome your ring at the door2 ,for ,i trusted that he who stood waiting me then1 ,was the brightest1 the truest1 the noblest of men4 ,your lips on my own when they printed ,farewell1 ,had never been soiled by the beverage of hell2 ,but they come to me now with the bacchanal sign1 ,and the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine4 ,i think of that night in the garden alone1 ,when in whispers you told me your heart was my own1 ,that your love in the future should faithfully be ,unshared by another1 kept only for me4 ,oh1 sweet to my soul is the memory still ,of the lips which met mine1 when they murmured ,i will2 ,but now to their pressure no more they incline1 ,for the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine6 ,o ,john6 how it crushed me1 when first in your face ,the pen of the ,rum ,fiend had written disgrace2 ,and turned me in silence and tears from that breath ,all poisoned and foul from the chalice of death4 ,it scattered the hopes ,i had treasured to last2 ,it darkened the future and clouded the past2 ,it shattered my idol1 and ruined the shrine1 ,for the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine4 ,i loved you--,oh1 dearer than language can tell1 ,and you saw it1 you proved it1 you knew it too well6 ,but the man of my love was far other than he ,who now from the ,tap-room comes reeling to me2 ,in manhood and honor so noble and right-- ,his heart was so true1 and his genius so bright-- ,and his soul was unstained1 unpolluted by wine2 ,but the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine4 ,you promised reform1 but ,i trusted in vain2 ,your pledge was but made to be broken again3 ,and the lover so false to his promises now1 ,will not1 as a husband1 be true to his vow4 ,the word must be spoken that bids you depart-- ,though the effort to speak it should shatter my heart-- ,though in silence1 with blighted affection1 ,i pine1 ,yet the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine6 ,if one spark in your bosom of virtue remain1 ,go fan it with prayer till it kindle again2 ,resolved1 with ,god helping1 in future to be ,from wine and its follies unshackled and free6 ,and when you have conquered this foe of your soul1-- ,in manhood and honor beyond his control-- ,this heart will again beat responsive to thine1 ,and the lips free from liquor be welcome to mine4 ,george ,w4 ,young4 ,a ,perfect ,day ,when you come to the end of a perfect day ,and you sit alone with your thought ,while the chimes ring out with a carol gay ,for the joy that the day has brought1 ,do you think what the end of a perfect day ,can mean to a tired heart8 ,when the sun goes down with a flaming ray ,and the dear friends have to part8 ,well1 this is the end of a perfect day1 ,near the end of a journey1 too2 ,but it leaves a thought that is big and strong1 ,with a wish that is kind and true2 ,for mem'ry has painted this perfect day ,with colors that never fade1 ,and we find1 at the end of a perfect day1 ,the soul of a friend we've made4 ,carrie ,jacobs ,bond4 ,kate ,ketchem ,kate ,ketchem on a winter's night ,went to a party dressed in white4 ,her chignon in a net of gold1 ,was about as large as they ever sold4 ,gayly she went1 because her pap ,was supposed to be a rich old chap4 ,but when by chance her glances fell ,on a friend who had lately married well1 ,her spirits sunk1 and a vague unrest ,and a nameless longing filled her breast-- ,a wish she wouldn't have had made known1 ,to have an establishment of her own4 ,tom ,fudge came slowly through the throng1 ,with chestnut hair1 worn pretty long4 ,he saw ,kate ,ketchem in the crowd1 ,and knowing her slightly1 stopped and bowed2 ,then asked her to give him a single flower1 ,saying he'd think it a priceless dower4 ,out from those with which she was decked1 ,she took the poorest she could select4 ,and blushed as she gave it1 looking down ,to call attention to her gown4 ,thanks1 said ,fudge1 and he thought how dear ,flowers must be at that time of year4 ,then several charming remarks he made1 ,asked if she sang1 or danced1 or played2 ,and being exhausted1 inquired whether ,she thought it was going to be pleasant weather4 ,and ,kate displayed her jewelry1 ,and dropped her lashes becomingly2 ,and listened1 with no attempt to disguise ,the admiration in her eyes4 ,at last1 like one who has nothing to say1 ,he turned around and walked away4 ,kate ,ketchem smiled1 and said1 ,you bet4 ,i'll catch that ,fudge and his money yet4 ,he's rich enough to keep me in clothes1 ,and ,i think ,i could manage him as ,i chose4 ,he could aid my father as well as not1 ,and buy my brother a splendid yacht4 ,my mother for money should never fret1 ,and all it cried for the baby should get2 ,and after that1 with what he could spare1 ,i'd make a show at a charity fair4 ,tom ,fudge looked back as he crossed the sill1 ,and saw ,kate ,ketchem standing still4 ,a girl more suited to my mind ,it isn't an easy thing to find2 ,and every thing that she has to wear ,proves her as rich as she is fair4 ,would she were mine1 and ,i to-day ,had the old man's cash my debts to pay6 ,no creditors with a long account1 ,no tradesmen wanting 'that little amount'2 ,but all my scores paid up when due ,by a father-in-law as rich as a ,jew6 ,but he thought of her brother1 not worth a straw1 ,and her mother1 that would be his1 in law2 ,so1 undecided1 he walked along1 ,and ,kate was left alone in the throng4 ,but a lawyer smiled1 whom he sought by stealth1 ,to ascertain old ,ketchem's wealth2 ,and as for ,kate1 she schemed and planned ,till one of the dancers claimed her hand4 ,he married her for her father's cash2 ,she married him to cut a dash1 ,but as to paying his debts1 do you know1 ,the father couldn't see it so2 ,and at hints for help1 ,kate's hazel eyes ,looked out in their innocent surprise4 ,and when ,tom thought of the way he had wed ,he longed for a single life instead1 ,and closed his eyes in a sulky mood1 ,regretting the days of his bachelorhood2 ,and said1 in a sort of reckless vein1 ,i'd like to see her catch me again1 ,if ,i were free1 as on that night ,when ,i saw ,kate ,ketchem dressed in white6 ,she wedded him to be rich and gay2 ,but husband and children didn't pay1 ,he wasn't the prize she hoped to draw1 ,and wouldn't live with his mother-in-law4 ,and oft when she had to coax and pout ,in order to get him to take her out1 ,she thought how very attentive and bright ,he seemed at the party that winter's night2 ,of his laugh1 as soft as a breeze of the south1 7',twas now on the other side of his mouth72 ,how he praised her dress and gems in his talk1 ,as he took a careful account of stock4 ,sometimes she hated the very walls-- ,hated her friends1 her dinners1 and calls2 ,till her weak affection1 to hatred turned1 ,like a dying tallow-candle burned4 ,and for him who sat there1 her peace to mar1 ,smoking his everlasting cigar-- ,he wasn't the man she thought she saw1 ,and grief was duty1 and hate was law4 ,so she took up her burden with a groan1 ,saying only1 ,i might have known6 ,alas for ,kate6 and alas for ,fudge6 ,though ,i do not owe them any grudge2 ,and alas for any who find to their shame ,that two can play at their little game6 ,for of all hard things to bear and grin1 ,the hardest is knowing you're taken in4 ,ah1 well6 as a general thing1 we fret ,about the one we didn't get2 ,but ,i think we needn't make a fuss1 ,if the one we don't want didn't get us4 ,phoebe ,cary4 ,mandalay ,by the old ,moulmein ,pagoda1 lookin' eastward to the sea1 ,there's a ,burma girl a-settin'1 an' ,i know she thinks o' me2 ,for the wind is in the palm-trees1 an' the temple-bells they say3 ,come you back1 you ,british soldier3 come you back to ,mandalay6 ,come you back to ,mandalay1 ,where the old flotilla lay3 ,can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from ,rangoon to ,mandalay8 ,on the road to ,mandalay1 ,where the flyin'-fishes play1 ,an' the dawn comes up like thunder outer ,china 'crost the ,bay6 ',er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was green1 ,an' 'er name was ,supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as ,theebaw's ,queen1 ,an' ,i seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot1 ,an' a-wastin' ,christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot2 ,bloomin' idol made o' mud-- ,wot they called the ,great ,gawd ,budd-- ,plucky lot she cared for idols when ,i kissed 'er where she stud6 ,on the road to ,mandalay-- ,when the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' low1 ,she'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing ,kul-la-lo-lo6 ,with 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek agin my cheek ,we useter watch the steamers and the hathis pilin' teak4 ,elephints a-pilin' teak ,in the sludgy1 squdgy creek1 ,where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was arf afraid to speak6 ,on the road to ,mandalay-- ,but that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away1 ,an' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the ,benk to ,mandalay2 ,an' ,i'm learnin' 'ere in ,london what the ten-year sodger tells3 ,if you've 'eard the ,east a-callin'1 why1 you won't 'eed nothin' else4 ,no6 you won't 'eed nothin' else ,but them spicy garlic smells ,an' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells6 ,on the road to ,mandalay-- ,i am sick o' wastin' leather on these gutty pavin'-stones1 ,an' the blasted ,henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones2 ,tho' ,i walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer ,chelsea to the ,strand1 ,an' they talk a lot o' lovin'1 but wot do they understand8 ,beefy face an' grubby 'and-- ,law6 wot do they understand8 ,i've a neater1 sweeter maiden in a cleaner1 greener land6 ,on the road to ,mandalay-- ,ship me somewheres east of ,suez where the best is like the worst1 ,where there aren't no ,ten ,commandments1 an' a man can raise a thirst2 ,for the temple-bells are callin'1 an' it's there that ,i would be-- ,by the old ,moulmein ,pagoda1 lookin' lazy at the sea-- ,on the road to ,mandalay1 ,where the old ,flotilla lay1 ,with our sick beneath the awnings when we went to ,mandalay6 ,on the road to ,mandalay6 ,where the flyin'-fishes play1 ,an' the dawn comes up like thunder outer ,china 'crost the ,bay6 ,rudyard ,kipling4 ,columbus ,behind him lay the gray ,azores1 ,behind the ,gates of ,hercules2 ,before him not the ghost of shores1 ,before him only shoreless seas4 ,the good mate said3 ,now must we pray1 ,for lo6 the very stars are gone4 ,brave ,adm'r'l1 speak2 what shall ,i say8 ,why1 say3 ',sail on6 sail on6 and on6' ,my men grow mutinous day by day2 ,my men grow ghastly wan and weak4 ,the stout mate thought of home2 a spray ,of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek1 ,what shall ,i say1 brave ,adm'r'l1 say1 ,if we sight naught but seas at dawn8 ,why1 you shall say at break of day3 ',sail on6 sail on6 sail on6 and on6' ,they sailed and sailed1 as winds might blow1 ,until at last the blanched mate said3 ,why1 now not even ,god would know ,should ,i and all my men fall dead4 ,these very winds forget their way1 ,for ,god from these dread seas is gone4 ,now speak1 brave ,adm'r'l1 speak and say-- ,he said3 ,sail on6 ,sail on6 and on6 ,they sailed4 ,they sailed4 ,then spake the mate3 ,this mad sea shows his teeth tonight4 ,he curls his lips1 he lies in wait ,with lifted teeth1 as if to bite6 ,brave ,adm'r'l1 say but one good word3 ,what shall we do when hope is gone8 ,the words leapt like a leaping sword2 ,sail on6 sail on6 sail on6 and on6 ,then1 pale and worn1 he kept his deck1 ,and peered through darkness4 ,ah1 that night ,of all dark nights6 ,and then a speck-- ,a light6 a light6 a light6 a light6 ,it grew1 a starlit flag unfurled6 ,it grew to be ,time's burst of dawn4 ,he gained a world2 he gave that world ,its grandest lesson2 ,on6 sail on6 ,joaquin ,miller4 ,sister's ,best ,feller ,my sister's best feller is 'most six-foot-three1 ,and handsome and strong as a feller can be2 ,and ,sis1 she's so little1 and slender1 and small1 ,you never would think she could boss him at all2 ,but1 my jing6 ,she don't do a thing ,but make him jump 'round1 like he worked with a string6 ,it jest made me 'shamed of him sometimes1 you know1 ,to think that he'll let a girl bully him so4 ,he goes to walk with her and carries her muff ,and coat and umbrella1 and that kind of stuff2 ,she loads him with things that must weigh 'most a ton2 ,and1 honest1 he likes it1--as if it was fun6 ,and1 oh1 say6 ,when they go to a play1 ,he'll sit in the parlor and fidget away1 ,and she won't come down till it's quarter past eight1 ,and then she'll scold him 'cause they get there so late4 ,he spends heaps of money a-buyin' her things1 ,like candy1 and flowers1 and presents1 and rings2 ,and all he's got for 'em's a handkerchief case-- ,a fussed-up concern1 made of ribbons and lace2 ,but1 my land6 ,he thinks it's just grand1 ',cause she made it1 he says1 with her own little hand2 ,he calls her an angel--,i heard him--and saint1 ,and beautif'lest bein' on earth--but she ain't1 ',fore ,i go on an errand for her any time1 ,i just make her coax me1 and give me a dime2 ,but that great big silly--why1 honest and true-- ,he'd run forty miles if she wanted him to4 ,oh1 gee whiz6 ,i tell you what 'tis6 ,i jest think it's awful--those actions of his4 ,i won't fall in love1 when ,i'm grown--no sir-ee6 ,my sister's best feller's a warnin' to me6 ,joseph ,c4 ,lincoln4 ,where the ,west ,begins ,out where the handclasp's a little stronger1 ,out where a smile dwells a little longer1 ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,out where the sun's a little brighter1 ,where the snow that falls is a trifle whiter1 ,where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter1 ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,out where the skies are a trifle bluer1 ,out where friendship's a little truer1 ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,out where a fresher breeze is blowing1 ,where there is laughter in every streamlet flowing1 ,where there's more of reaping and less of sowing1 ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,out where the world is in the making1 ,where fewer hearts with despair are aching2 ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,where there is more of singing and less of sighing1 ,where there is more of giving and less of buying1 ,and a man makes friends without half trying-- ,that's where the ,west begins4 ,arthur ,chapman4 ,the ,tapestry ,weavers ,let us take to our hearts a lesson--no lesson can braver be-- ,from the ways of the tapestry weavers on the other side of the sea4 ,above their heads the pattern hangs1 they study it with care1 ,the while their fingers deftly move1 their eyes are fastened there4 ,they tell this curious thing1 besides1 of the patient1 plodding weaver3 ,he works on the wrong side evermore1 but works for the right side ever4 ,it is only when the weaving stops1 and the web is loosed and turned1 ,that he sees his real handiwork--that his marvelous skill is learned4 ,ah1 the sight of its delicate beauty1 how it pays him for all his cost6 ,no rarer1 daintier work than his was ever done by the frost4 ,then the master bringeth him golden hire1 and giveth him praise as well1 ,and how happy the heart of the weaver is1 no tongue but his can tell4 ,the years of man are the looms of ,god1 let down from the place of the sun1 ,wherein we are weaving ever1 till the mystic web is done4 ,weaving blindly but weaving surely each for himself his fate-- ,we may not see how the right side looks1 we can only weave and wait4 ,but1 looking above for the pattern1 no weaver hath to fear2 ,only let him look clear into heaven1 the ,perfect ,pattern is there4 ,if he keeps the face of the ,savior forever and always in sight ,his toil shall be sweeter than honey1 his weaving sure to be right4 ,and when the work is ended1 and the web is turned and shown1 ,he shall hear the voice of the ,master1 it shall say unto him1 ,well done6 ,and the white-winged ,angels of ,heaven1 to bear him shall come down2 ,and ,god shall give him gold for his hire--not a coin--but a glowing crown4 ,when the ,teacher ,gets ,cross ,when the teacher gets cross1 and her blue eyes gets black1 ,and the pencil comes down on the desk with a whack1 ,we chillen all sit up straight in a line1 ,as if we had rulers instead of a spine1 ,and it's scary to cough1 and it a'n't safe to grin1 ,when the teacher gets cross1 and the dimples goes in4 ,when the teacher gets cross1 the tables get mixed1 ,the ones and the twos begins to play tricks4 ,the pluses and minuses is just little smears1 ,when the cry babies cry their slates full of tears1 ,and the figgers won't add1--but just act up like sin1 ,when the teacher gets cross1 and the dimples goes in4 ,when the teacher gets cross1 the reading gets bad4 ,the lines jingle round till the' chillen is sad4 ,and ,billy boy puffs and gets red in the face1 ,as if he and the lesson were running a race1 ,until she hollers out1 ,next6 as sharp as a pin1 ,when the teacher gets cross1 and the dimples goes in4 ,when the teacher gets good1 her smile is so bright1 ,that the tables gets straight1 and the reading gets right4 ,the pluses and minuses comes trooping along1 ,and the figgers add up and stop being wrong1 ,and we chillen would like1 but we dassent1 to shout1 ,when the teacher gets good1 and the dimples comes out4 ,recessional ,god of our fathers1 known of old1 ,lord of our far-flung battle line1 ,beneath whose awful ,hand we hold ,dominion over palm and pine-- ,lord ,god of ,hosts1 be with us yet1 ,lest we forget--lest we forget6 ,the tumult and the shouting dies2 ,the captains and the kings depart3 ,still stands ,thine ancient sacrifice1 ,an humble and a contrite heart4 ,lord ,god of ,hosts1 be with us yet1 ,lest we forget--lest we forget6 ,far-called1 our navies melt away2 ,on dune and headland sinks the fire3 ,lo1 all our pomp of yesterday ,is one with ,nineveh and ,tyre6 ,judge of the ,nations1 spare us yet1 ,lest we forget--lest we forget6 ,if1 drunk with sight of power1 we loose ,wild tongues that have not ,thee in awe-- ,such boasting as the ,gentiles use1 ,or lesser breeds without the ,law-- ,lord ,god of ,hosts1 be with us yet1 ,lest we forget--lest we forget6 ,for heathen heart that puts her trust ,in reeking tube and iron shard1 ,all valiant dust that builds on dust1 ,and guarding1 calls not ,thee to guard1 ,for frantic boast and foolish word1 ,thy ,mercy on ,thy ,people1 ,lord6 ,amen4 ,rudyard ,kipling4 ,the ,eternal ,goodness ,o ,friends6 with whom my feet have trod ,the quiet aisles of prayer1 ,glad witness to your zeal for ,god ,and love of man ,i bear4 ,i trace your lines of argument2 ,your logic linked and strong ,i weigh as one who dreads dissent1 ,and fears a doubt as wrong4 ,but still my human hands are weak ,to hold your iron creeds3 ,against the words ye bid me speak ,my heart within me pleads4 ,who fathoms the ,eternal ,thought8 ,who talks of scheme and plan8 ,the ,lord is ,god6 ,he needeth not ,the poor device of man4 ,i walk with bare1 hushed feet the ground ,ye tread with boldness shod2 ,i dare not fix with mete and bound ,the love and power of ,god4 ,ye praise ,his justice2 even such ,his pitying love ,i deem2 ,ye seek a king2 ,i fain would touch ,the robe that hath no seam4 ,ye see the curse which overbroods ,a world of pain and loss2 ,i hear our ,lord's beatitudes ,and prayer upon the cross4 ,more than your schoolmen teach1 within ,myself1 alas6 ,i know2 ,too dark ye cannot paint the sin1 ,too small the merit show4 ,i bow my forehead to the dust1 ,i veil mine eyes for shame1 ,and urge1 in trembling self-distrust1 ,a prayer without a claim4 ,i see the wrong that round me lies1 ,i feel the guilt within2 ,i hear1 with groan and travail-cries1 ,the world confess its sin4 ,yet1 in the maddening maze of things1 ,and tossed by storm and flood1 ,to one fixed stake my spirit clings2 ,i know that ,god is good6 ,not mine to look where cherubim ,and seraphs may not see1 ,but nothing can be good in ,him ,which evil is in me4 ,the wrong that pains my soul below ,i dare not throne above2 ,i know not of ,his hate1--,i know ,his goodness and ,his love4 ,i dimly guess from blessings known ,of greater out of sight1 ,and1 with the chastened ,psalmist1 own ,his judgments too are right4 ,i long for household voices gone1 ,for vanished smiles ,i long1 ,but ,god hath led my dear ones on1 ,and he can do no wrong4 ,i know not what the future hath ,of marvel or surprise1 ,assured alone that life and death ,his mercy underlies4 ,and if my heart and flesh are weak ,to bear an untried pain1 ,the bruised reed ,he will not break1 ,but strengthen and sustain4 ,no offering of my own ,i have1 ,nor works my faith to prove2 ,i can but give the gifts ,he gave1 ,and plead ,his love for love4 ,and so beside the ,silent ,sea1 ,i wait the muffled oar2 ,no harm from ,him can come to me ,on ocean or on shore4 ,i know not where ,his islands lift ,their fronded palms in air2 ,i only know ,i cannot drift ,beyond ,his love and care4 ,o brothers6 if my faith is vain1 ,if hopes like these betray1 ,pray for me that my feet may gain ,the sure and safer way4 ,and ,thou1 ,o ,lord6 by whom are seen ,thy creatures as they be1 ,forgive me if too close ,i lean ,my human heart on ,thee6 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,driving ,home the ,cows ,out of the clover and blue-eyed grass ,he turned them into the river-lane2 ,one after another he let them pass4 ,then fastened the meadow-bars again4 ,under the willows and over the hill1 ,he patiently followed their sober pace2 ,the merry whistle for once was still1 ,and something shadowed the sunny face4 ,only a boy6 and his father had said ,he never could let his youngest go2 ,two already were lying dead ,under the feet of the trampling foe4 ,but after the evening work was done1 ,and the frogs were loud in the meadow swamp1 ,over his shoulder he slung his gun1 ,and stealthily followed the footpath damp1-- ,across the clover and through the wheat4 ,with resolute heart and purpose grim1 ,though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet1 ,and the blind bat's flitting startled him4 ,thrice since then had the lanes been white1 ,and the orchards sweet with apple bloom2 ,and now1 when the cows came back at night1 ,the feeble father drove them home4 ,for news had come to the lonely farm ,that three were lying where two had lain2 ,and the old man's tremulous1 palsied arm ,could never lean on a son's again4 ,the summer day grew cool and late2 ,he went for the cows when the work was done2 ,but down the lane1 as he opened the gate1 ,he saw them coming1 one by one1-- ,brindle1 ,ebony1 ,speckle1 and ,bess1 ,shaking their horns in the evening wind1 ,cropping the buttercups out of the grass-- ,but who was it following close behind8 ,loosely swung in the idle air ,the empty sleeve of army blue2 ,and worn and pale1 from the crisping hair1 ,looked out a face that the father knew4 ,for southern prisons will sometimes yawn1 ,and yield their dead unto life again2 ,and the day that comes with a cloudy dawn ,in golden glory at last may wane4 ,the great tears sprang to their meeting eyes2 ,for the heart must speak when the lips are dumb1 ,and under the silent evening skies ,together they followed the cattle home4 ,kate ,p4 ,osgood4 ,a ,song of ,our ,flag ,your ,flag and my ,flag6 ,and1 oh1 how much it holds-- ,your land and my land-- ,secure within its folds6 ,your heart and my heart ,beat quicker at the sight2 ,sun-kissed and wind-tossed1 ,red and blue and white4 ,the one ,flag--the great ,flag--the ,flag for me and you-- ,glorified all else beside--the red and white and blue6 ,your ,flag and my ,flag6 ,to every star and stripe ,the drums beat as hearts beat ,and fifers shrilly pipe6 ,your ,flag and my ,flag-- ,a blessing in the sky2 ,your hope and my hope-- ,it never hid a lie6 ,home land and far land and half the world around1 ,old ,glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound6 ,wilbur ,d4 ,nesbit4 ,when the ,minister ,comes to ,tea ,oh6 they've swept the parlor carpet1 and they've dusted every chair1 ,and they've got the tidies hangin' jest exactly on the square2 ,and the what-not's fixed up lovely1 and the mats have all been beat1 ,and the pantry's brimmin' over with the bully things ter eat2 ,sis has got her ,sunday dress on1 and she's frizzin' up her bangs2 ,ma's got on her best alpacky1 and she's askin' how it hangs2 ,pa has shaved as slick as can be1 and ,i'm rigged way up in ,g1-- ,and it's all because we're goin' ter have the minister ter tea4 ,oh6 the table's fixed up gaudy1 with the gilt-edged chiny set1 ,and we'll use the silver tea-pot and the comp'ny spoons1 you bet2 ,and we're goin' ter have some fruitcake and some thimbleberry jam1 ,and riz biscuits1 and some doughnuts1 and some chicken1 and some ham4 ,ma1 she'll 'polergize like fury and say everything is bad1 ,and ,sich awful luck with cookin'1 she is sure she never had2 ,but1 er course1 she's only bluffin1' for it's as prime as it can be1 ,and she's only talkin' that way 'cause the minister's ter tea4 ,everybody'll be a-smilin' and as good as ever was1 ,pa won't growl about the vittles1 like he generally does4 ,and he'll ask me would ,i like another piece er pie2 but1 sho6 ,that1 er course1 is only manners1 and ,i'm s'posed ter answer ,no4 ,sis'll talk about the church-work and about the ,sunday-school1 ,ma'll tell how she liked that sermon that was on the ,golden ,rule1 ,and if ,i upset my tumbler they won't say a word ter me3-- ,yes1 a boy can eat in comfort with the minister ter tea6 ,say6 a minister1 you'd reckon1 never'd say what wasn't true2 ,but that isn't so with ours1 and ,i jest can prove it1 too2 ',cause when ,sis plays on the organ so it makes yer want ter die1 ,why1 he sets and says it's lovely2 and that1 seems ter me1's a lie3 ,but ,i like him all the samey1 and ,i only wish he'd stay ,at our house fer good and always1 and eat with us every day2 ,only think of havin' goodies every evenin'6 ,jimminee6 ,and ,i'd never git a scoldin' with the minister ter tea6 ,joseph ,c4 ,lincoln4 ,when the ,cows ,come ,home ,when klingle1 klangle1 klingle1 ,far down the dusty dingle1 ,the cows are coming home2 ,now sweet and clear1 now faint and low1 ,the airy tinklings come and go1 ,like chimings from the far-off tower1 ,or patterings of an ,april shower ,that makes the daisies grow2 ,ko-ling1 ko-lang1 kolinglelingle ,far down the darkening dingle1 ,the cows come slowly home4 ,and old-time friends1 and twilight plays1 ,and starry nights and sunny days1 ,come trooping up the misty ways ,when the cows come home1 ,with jingle1 jangle1 jingle1 ,soft tones that sweetly mingle-- ,the cows are coming home2 ,malvine1 and ,pearl1 and ,florimel1 ,de,kamp1 ,red ,rose1 and ,gretchen ,schell4 ,queen ,bess and ,sylph1 and ,spangled ,sue1 ,across the fields ,i hear her loo-oo ,and clang her silver bell2 ,go-ling1 go-lang1 golingledingle1 ,with faint1 far sounds that mingle1 ,the cows come slowly home4 ,and mother-songs of long-gone years1 ,and baby-joys and childish fears1 ,and youthful hopes and youthful tears1 ,when the cows come home4 ,with ringle1 rangle1 ringle1 ,by twos and threes and single1 ,the cows are coming home4 ,through violet air we see the town1 ,and the summer sun a-sliding down1 ,and the maple in the hazel glade ,throws down the path a longer shade1 ,and the hills are growing brown2 ,to-ring1 to-rang1 toringleringle1 ,by threes and fours and single1 ,the cows come slowly home4 ,the same sweet sound of wordless psalm1 ,the same sweet ,june-day rest and calm1 ,the same sweet smell of buds and balm1 ,when the cows come home4 ,with tinkle1 tankle1 tinkle1 ,through fern and periwinkle1 ,the cows are coming home4 ,a-loitering in the checkered stream1 ,where the sun-rays glance and gleam1 ,clarine1 ,peach-bloom and ,phebe ,phillis ,stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies1 ,in a drowsy dream2 ,to-link1 to-lank1 tolinklelinkle1 ,o'er banks with buttercups a-twinkle1 ,the cows come slowly home4 ,and up through memory's deep ravine ,come the brook's old song and its old-time sheen1 ,and the crescent of the silver queen1 ,when the cows come home4 ,with klingle1 klangle1 klingle1 ,with loo-oo1 and moo-oo and jingle1 ,the cows are coming home4 ,and over there on ,merlin ,hill ,sounds the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will1 ,and the dew-drops lie on the tangled vines1 ,and over the poplars ,venus shines1 ,and over the silent mill4 ,ko-ling1 ko-lang1 kolinglelingle1 ,with ting-a-ling and jingle1 ,the cows come slowly home4 ,let down the bars2 let in the train ,of long-gone songs1 and flowers1 and rain2 ,for dear old times come back again1 ,when the cows come home4 ,agnes ,e4 ,mitchell4 ,custer's ,last ,charge ,dead6 ,is it possible8 ,he1 the bold rider1 ,custer1 our hero1 the first in the fight1 ,charming the bullets of yore to fly wider1 ,shunning our battle-king's ringlets of light6 ,dead6 our young chieftain1 and dead all forsaken6 ,no one to tell us the way of his fall6 ,slain in the desert1 and never to waken1 ,never1 not even to victory's call6 ,comrades1 he's gone6 but ye need not be grieving2 ,no1 may my death be like his when ,i die6 ,no regrets wasted on words ,i am leaving1 ,falling with brave men1 and face to the sky4 ,death's but a journey1 the greatest must take it3 ,fame is eternal1 and better than all2 ,gold though the bowl be1 'tis fate that must break it1 ,glory can hallow the fragments that fall4 ,proud for his fame that last day that he met them6 ,all the night long he had been on their track1 ,scorning their traps and the men that had set them1 ,wild for a charge that should never give back4 ,there1 on the hilltop he halted and saw them-- ,lodges all loosened and ready to fly2 ,hurrying scouts with the tidings to awe them1 ,told of his coming before he was nigh4 ,all the wide valley was full of their forces1 ,gathered to cover the lodges' retreat1-- ,warriors running in haste to their horses1 ,thousands of enemies close to his feet6 ,down in the valleys the ages had hollowed1 ,there lay the ,sitting ,bull's camp for a prey6 ,numbers6 ,what recked he8 ,what recked those who followed8 ,men who had fought ten to one ere that day8 ,out swept the squadrons1 the fated three hundred1 ,into the battle-line steady and full2 ,then down the hillside exultingly thundered ,into the hordes of the ,old ,sitting ,bull6 ,wild ,ogalallah1 ,arapahoe1 ,cheyenne1 ,wild ,horse's braves1 and the rest of their crew1 ,shrank from that charge like a herd from a lion4 ,then closed around the great hell of wild ,sioux4 ,right to their center he charged1 and then1 facing-- ,hark to those yells and around them1 ,oh1 see6 ,over the hilltops the devils come racing1 ,coming as fast as the waves of the sea6 ,red was the circle of fire about them1 ,no hope of victory1 no ray of light1 ,shot through that terrible black cloud about them1 ,brooding in death over ,custer's last fight4 ,,then ,,did ,,he ,,blench8 ,did he die like a craven1 ,begging those torturing fiends for his life8 ,was there a soldier who carried the ,seven ,flinched like a coward or fled from the strife8 ,no1 by the blood of our ,custer1 no quailing6 ,there in the midst of the devils they close1 ,hemmed in by thousands1 but ever assailing1 ,fighting like tigers1 all bayed amid foes6 ,thicker and thicker the bullets came singing2 ,down go the horses and riders and all2 ,swiftly the warriors round them were ringing1 ,circling like buzzards awaiting their fall4 ,see the wild steeds of the mountain and prairie1 ,savage eyes gleaming from forests of mane2 ,quivering lances with pennons so airy2 ,war-painted warriors charging amain4 ,backward again and again they were driven1 ,shrinking to close with the lost little band2 ,never a cap that had worn the bright ,seven ,bowed till its wearer was dead on the strand4 ,closer and closer the death-circle growing1 ,even the leader's voice1 clarion clear1 ,rang out his words of encouragement glowing1 ,we can but die once1 boys1 but ,,sell ,,your ,,lives ,,dear6 ,dearly they sold them1 like ,berserkers raging1 ,facing the death that encircled them round2 ,death's bitter pangs by their vengeance assuaging1 ,marking their tracks by their dead on the ground4 ,comrades1 our children shall yet tell their story1-- ,custer's last charge on the ,old ,sitting ,bull2 ,and ages shall swear that the cup of his glory ,needed but that death to render it full4 ,frederick ,whitttaker4 ,a ,boy and ,his ,stomach ,what's the matter1 stummick8 ,ain't ,i always been your friend8 ,ain't ,i always been a pardner to you8 ,all my pennies don't ,i spend ,in getting nice things for you8 ,don't ,i give you lots of cake8 ,say1 stummick1 what's the matter1 ,you had to go an' ache8 ,why1 ,i loaded you with good things yesterday2 ,i gave you more corn an' chicken than you'd ever had before2 ,i gave you fruit an' candy1 apple pie an' chocolate cake1 ,an' last night when ,i got to bed you had to go an' ache4 ,say1 what's the matter with you8 ,ain't you satisfied at all8 ,i gave you all you wanted2 you was hard jes' like a ball1 ,an' you couldn't hold another bit of puddin'2 yet last night ,you ached most awful1 stummick6 ,that ain't treatin' me jest right4 ,i've been a friend to you1 ,i have6 ,why ain't you a friend o' mine8 ,they gave me castor oil becoz you made me whine4 ,i'm feelin' fine this mornin'2 yes it's true2 ,but ,i tell you1 stummick1 you better appreciate things ,i do for you4 ,on the ,shores of ,tennessee ,move my arm-chair1 faithful ,pompey1 ,in the sunshine bright and strong1 ,for this world is fading1 ,pompey-- ,massa won't be with you long2 ,and ,i fain would hear the south wind ,bring once more the sound to me1 ,of the wavelets softly breaking ,on the shores of ,tennessee4 ,mournful though the ripples murmur ,as they still the story tell1 ,how no vessels float the banner ,that ,i've loved so long and well1 ,i shall listen to their music1 ,dreaming that again ,i see ,stars and ,stripes on sloop and shallop ,sailing up the ,tennessee2 ,and ,pompey1 while old ,massa's waiting ,for ,death's last dispatch to come1 ,if that exiled starry banner ,should come proudly sailing home1 ,you shall greet it1 slave no longer-- ,voice and hand shall both be free ,that shout and point to ,union colors ,on the waves of ,tennessee4 ,massa's berry kind to ,pompey2 ,but old darkey's happy here1 ,where he's tended corn and cotton ,for dese many a long-gone year4 ,ober yonder1 ,missis' sleeping-- ,no one tends her grave like me2 ,mebbe she would miss the flowers ,she used to love in ,tennessee4 ',pears like1 she was watching ,massa-- ,if ,pompey should beside him stay1 ,mebbe she'd remember better ,how for him she used to pray2 ,telling him that way up yonder ,white as snow his soul would be1 ,if he served the ,lord of ,heaven ,while he lived in ,tennessee4 ,silently the tears were rolling ,down the poor old dusky face1 ,as he stepped behind his master1 ,in his long-accustomed place4 ,then a silence fell around them1 ,as they gazed on rock and tree ,pictured in the placid waters ,of the rolling ,tennessee2-- ,master1 dreaming of the battle ,where he fought by ,marion's side1 ,where he bid the haughty ,tarleton ,stoop his lordly crest of pride3-- ,man1 remembering how yon sleeper ,once he held upon his knee4 ,ere she loved the gallant soldier1 ,ralph ,vervair of ,tennessee4 ,still the south wind fondly lingers ',mid the veteran's silver hair2 ,still the bondman1 close beside him ,stands behind the old arm-chair4 ,with his dark-hued hand uplifted1 ,shading eyes1 he bends to see ,where the woodland1 boldly jutting1 ,turns aside the ,tennessee4 ,thus he watches cloud-born shadows ,glide from tree to mountain-crest1 ,softly creeping1 aye and ever ,to the river's yielding breast4 ,ha6 above the foliage yonder ,something flutters wild and free6 ,massa6 ,massa6 ,hallelujah6 ,the flag's come back to ,tennessee6 ,pompey1 hold me on your shoulder1 ,help me stand on foot once more1 ,that ,i may salute the colors ,as they pass my cabin door4 ,here's the paper signed that frees you1 ,give a freeman's shout with me-- ',god and ,union6' be our watchword ,evermore in ,tennessee6 ,then the trembling voice grew fainter1 ,and the limbs refused to stand2 ,one prayer to ,jesus--and the soldier ,glided to the better land4 ,when the flag went down the river ,man and master both were free2 ,while the ring-dove's note was mingled ,with the rippling ,tennessee4 ,ethel ,lynn ,beers4 ,the ,white-,footed ,deer ,it was a hundred years ago1 ,when1 by the woodland ways1 ,the traveler saw the wild deer drink1 ,or crop the birchen sprays4 ,beneath a hill1 whose rocky side ,o'er-browed a grassy mead1 ,and fenced a cottage from the wind1 ,a deer was wont to feed4 ,she only came when on the cliffs ,the evening moonlight lay1 ,and no man knew the secret haunts ,in which she walked by day4 ,white were her feet1 her forehead showed ,a spot of silvery white1 ,that seemed to glimmer like a star ,in autumn's hazy night4 ,and here1 when sang the whippoorwill1 ,she cropped the sprouting leaves1 ,and here her rustling steps were heard ,on still ,october eves4 ,but when the broad midsummer moon ,rose o'er the grassy lawn1 ,beside the silver-footed deer ,there grazed a spotted fawn4 ,the cottage dame forbade her son ,to aim the rifle here2 ,it were a sin1 she said1 to harm ,or fright that friendly deer4 ,this spot has been my pleasant home ,ten peaceful years and more2 ,and ever1 when the moonlight shines1 ,she feeds before our door1 ,the red men say that here she walked ,a thousand moons ago2 ,they never raise the war whoop here1 ,and never twang the bow4 ,i love to watch her as she feeds1 ,and think that all is well ,while such a gentle creature haunts ,the place in which we dwell4 ,the youth obeyed1 and sought for game ,in forests far away1 ,where1 deep in silence and in moss1 ,the ancient woodland lay4 ,but once1 in autumn's golden time1 ,he ranged the wild in vain1 ,nor roused the pheasant nor the deer1 ,and wandered home again4 ,the crescent moon and crimson eve ,shone with a mingling light2 ,the deer1 upon the grassy mead1 ,was feeding full in sight4 ,he raised the rifle to his eye1 ,and from the cliffs around ,a sudden echo1 shrill and sharp1 ,gave back its deadly sound4 ,away1 into the neighboring wood1 ,the startled creature flew1 ,and crimson drops at morning lay ,amid the glimmering dew4 ,next evening shone the waxing moon ,as sweetly as before2 ,the deer upon the grassy mead ,was seen again no more4 ,but ere that crescent moon was old1 ,by night the red men came1 ,and burnt the cottage to the ground1 ,and slew the youth and dame4 ,now woods have overgrown the mead1 ,and hid the cliffs from sight2 ,there shrieks the hovering hawk at noon1 ,and prowls the fox at night4 ,w4,c4 ,bryant4 ,mount ,vernon's ,bells ,where ,potomac's stream is flowing ,virginia's border through1 ,where the white-sailed ships are going ,sailing to the ocean blue2 ,hushed the sound of mirth and singing1 ,silent every one6 ,while the solemn bells are ringing ,by the tomb of ,washington4 ,tolling and knelling1 ,with a sad1 sweet sound1 ,o'er the waves the tones are swelling ,by ,mount ,vernon's sacred ground4 ,long ago the warrior slumbered-- ,our country's father slept2 ,long among the angels numbered ,they the hero soul have kept4 ,but the children's children love him1 ,and his name revere1 ,so where willows wave above him1 ,sweetly still his knell you hear4 ,sail1 oh ships1 across the billows1 ,and bear the story far2 ,how he sleeps beneath the willows1-- ,first in peace and first in war1 ,tell while sweet adieus are swelling1 ,till you come again1 ,he within the hearts is dwelling1 ,of his loving countrymen4 ,m4,b4,c4 ,slade4 ,gradatim ,heaven is not reached at a single bound2 ,but we build the ladder by which we rise ,from the lowly earth to the vaulted skies1 ,and we mount to the summit round by round1 ,i count this thing to be grandly true3 ,that a noble deed is a step toward ,god1 ,lifting a soul from the common sod ,to a purer air and a broader view4 ,we rise by things that are under our feet2 ,by what we have mastered of good and gain1 ,by the pride deposed and the passion slain1 ,and the vanquished ills that we hourly meet4 ,we hope1 we aspire1 we resolve1 we trust1 ,when the morning calls us to life and light2 ,but our hearts grow weary1 and ere he night ,our lives are trailing the sordid dust4 ,we hope1 we resolve1 we aspire1 we pray1 ,and we think that we mount the air on wings1 ,beyond the recall of sensual things1 ,while our feet still cling to the heavy clay4 ,only in dreams is a ladder thrown ,from the weary earth to the sapphire walls2 ,but the dreams depart1 and the vision falls1 ,and the sleeper awakes on his pillow of stone4 ,heaven is not reached at a single bound2 ,but we build the ladder by which we rise ,from the lowly earth to the vaulted skies1 ,and we mount to the summit round by round4 ,j4,g4 ,holland4 ,mr4 ,finney's ,turnip ,mr4 ,finney had a turnip ,and it grew behind the barn2 ,it grew there1 and it grew there1 ,and the turnip did no harm1 ,it grew and it grew1 ,till it could get no taller2 ,mr4 ,finney pulled it up ,and put it in his cellar4 ,it lay there and it lay there1 ,till it began to rot2 ,his daughter ,sallie took it up1 ,and put it in the pot4 ,she boiled it1 and she boiled it1 ,as long as she was able2 ,his daughter ,peggy fished it out4 ,and put it on the table4 ,mr4 ,finney and his wife4 ,they sat down to sup1 ,and they ate1 and they ate1 ,until they ate the turnip up4 ,the ,village ,blacksmith ,under a spreading chestnut tree ,the village smithy stands2 ,the smith1 a mighty man is he1 ,with large and sinewy hands2 ,and the muscles of his brawny arms ,are strong as iron bands4 ,his hair is crisp1 and black and long1 ,his face is like the tan2 ,his brow is wet with honest sweat1 ,he earns whate'er he can1 ,and looks the whole world in the face1 ,for he owes not any man4 ,week in1 week out1 from morn till night1 ,you can hear his bellows blow2 ,you can hear him swing his heavy sledge1 ,with measured beat and slow1 ,like a sexton ringing the village bell1 ,when the evening sun is low4 ,and children coming home from school ,look in at the open door2 ,they love to see the flaming forge1 ,and hear the bellows roar1 ,and catch the burning sparks that fly ,like chaff from a threshing floor4 ,he goes on ,sunday to the church1 ,and sits among his boys2 ,he hears the parson pray and preach1 ,he hears his daughter's voice1 ,singing in the village choir1 ,and it makes his heart rejoice4 ,it sounds to him like her mother's voice1 ,singing in ,paradise6 ,he needs must think of her once more1 ,how in the grave she lies2 ,and with his hard1 rough hand he wipes ,a tear out of his eyes4 ,toiling1--rejoicing1--sorrowing1 ,onward through life he goes2 ,each morning sees some task begun1 ,each evening sees it close2 ,something attempted1 something done1 ,has earned a night's repose4 ,thanks1 thanks to thee1 my worthy friend1 ,for the lesson thou hast taught6 ,thus at the flaming forge of life ,our fortunes must be wrought2 ,thus on its sounding anvil shaped ,each burning deed and thought4 ,h4 ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,you and ,you ,to the ,american ,private in the ,great ,war ,every one of you won the war-- ,you and you and you-- ,each one knowing what it was for1 ,and what was his job to do4 ,every one of you won the war1 ,obedient1 unwearied1 unknown1 ,dung in the trenches1 drift on the shore1 ,dust to the world's end blown2 ,every one of you1 steady and true1 ,you and you and you-- ,down in the pit or up in the blue1 ,whether you crawled or sailed or flew1 ,whether your closest comrade knew ,or you bore the brunt alone-- ,all of you1 all of you1 name after name1 ,jones and ,robinson1 ,smith and ,brown1 ,you from the piping prairie town1 ,you from the ,fundy fogs that came1 ,you from the city's roaring blocks1 ,you from the bleak ,new ,england rocks ,with the shingled roof in the apple boughs1 ,you from the brown adobe house-- ,you from the ,rockies1 you from the ,coast1 ,you from the burning frontier-post ,and you from the ,klondyke's frozen flanks1 ,you from the cedar-swamps1 you from the pine1 ,you from the cotton and you from the vine1 ,you from the rice and the sugar-brakes1 ,you from the ,rivers and you from the ,lakes1 ,you from the ,creeks and you from the ,licks ,and you from the brown bayou-- ,you and you and you-- ,you from the pulpit1 you from the mine1 ,you from the factories1 you from the banks1 ,closer and closer1 ranks on ranks1 ,airplanes and cannon1 and rifles and tanks1 ,smith and ,robinson1 ,brown and ,jones1 ,ruddy faces or bleaching bones1 ,after the turmoil and blood and pain ,swinging home to the folks again ,or sleeping alone in the fine ,french rain-- ,every one of you won the war4 ,every one of you won the war-- ,you and you and you-- ,pressing and pouring forth1 more and more1 ,toiling and straining from shore to shore ,to reach the flaming edge of the dark ,where man in his millions went up like a spark1 ,you1 in your thousands and millions coming1 ,all the sea ploughed with you1 all the air humming1 ,all the land loud with you1 ,all our hearts proud with you1 ,all our souls bowed with the awe of your coming6 ,where's the ,arch high enough1 ,lads1 to receive you1 ,where's the eye dry enough1 ,dears1 to perceive you1 ,when at last and at last in your glory you come1 ,tramping home8 ,every one of you won the war1 ,you and you and you-- ,you that carry an unscathed head1 ,you that halt with a broken tread1 ,and oh1 most of all1 you ,dead1 you ,dead6 ,lift up the ,gates for these that are last1 ,that are last in the great ,procession4 ,let the living pour in1 take possession1 ,flood back to the city1 the ranch1 the farm1 ,the church and the college and mill1 ,back to the office1 the store1 the exchange1 ,back to the wife with the babe on her arm1 ,back to the mother that waits on the sill1 ,and the supper that's hot on the range4 ,and now1 when the last of them all are by1 ,be the ,gates lifted up on high ,to let those ,others in1 ,those ,others1 their brothers1 that softly tread1 ,that come so thick1 yet take no ground1 ,that are so many1 yet make no sound1 ,our ,dead1 our ,dead1 our ,dead6 ,o silent and secretly-moving throng1 ,in your fifty thousand strong1 ,coming at dusk when the wreaths have dropt1 ,and streets are empty1 and music stopt1 ,silently coming to hearts that wait ,dumb in the door and dumb at the gate1 ,and hear your step and fly to your call-- ,every one of you won the war1 ,but you1 you ,dead1 most of all6 ,edith ,wharton 7,copyright #aiai by ,charles ,scrihner's1 ,sons74 ,the ,first ,snow-fall ,the snow had begun in the gloaming1 ,and busily all the night ,had been heaping field and highway ,with a silence deep and white4 ,every pine and fir and hemlock ,wore ermine too dear for an earl1 ,and the poorest twig on the elm tree ,was ridged inch-deep with pearl4 ,from sheds new-roofed with ,carrara ,came ,chanticleer's muffled crow1 ,the stiff rails were softened to swan's-down1 ,and still fluttered down the snow4 ,i stood and watched by the window ,the noiseless work of the sky1 ,and the sudden flurries of snow-birds1 ,like brown leaves whirling by4 ,i thought of a mound in sweet ,auburn ,where a little headstone stood2 ,how the flakes were folding it gently1 ,as did robins the babes in the wood4 ,up spoke our own little ,mabel1 ,saying1 ,father1 who makes it snow8 ,and ,i told of the good ,all-father ,who cares for us here below4 ,again ,i looked at the snow-fall1 ,and thought of the leaden sky ,that arched o'er our first great sorrow1 ,when that mound was heaped so high4 ,i remembered the gradual patience ,that fell from that cloud like snow1 ,flake by flake1 healing and hiding ,the scar of our deep-plunged woe4 ,and again to the child ,i whispered1 ,the snow that husheth all1 ,darling1 the merciful ,father ,alone can make it fall6 ,then1 with eyes that saw not1 ,i kissed her2 ,and she1 kissing back1 could not know ,that my kiss was given to her sister1 ,folded close under deepening snow4 ,james ,russell ,lowell4 ,the ,concord ,hymn ,sung at the completion of the ,concord ,monument1 ,april #ai1 #ahcf4 ,by the rude bridge that arched the flood1 ,their flag to ,april's breeze unfurled1 ,here once the embattled farmers stood1 ,and fired the shot heard round the world4 ,the foe long since in silence slept2 ,alike the conqueror silent sleeps2 ,and ,time the ruined bridge has swept ,down the dark stream which seaward creeps4 ,on this green bank1 by this soft stream1 ,we set to-day a votive stone1 ,that memory may their deed redeem1 ,when1 like our sires1 our sons are gone4 ,spirit1 that made these heroes dare ,to die1 to leave their children free1 ,bid ,time and ,nature gently spare ,the shaft we raise to them and thee4 ,ralph ,waldo ,emerson4 ,casey at the ,bat ,it looked extremely rocky for the ,mudville nine that day2 ,the score stood two to four with but an inning left to play2 ,so1 when ,cooney died at second1 and ,burrows did the same1 ,a pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game4 ,a straggling few got up to go1 leaving there the rest1 ,with that hope which springs eternal within the human breast1 ,for they thought3 ,if only ,casey could get a whack at that1 ,they'd put up even money now1 with ,casey at the bat4 ,but ,flynn preceded ,casey1 and likewise so did ,blake1 ,and the former was a puddin'1 and the latter was a fake2 ,so on that stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat4 ,for there seemed but little chance of ,casey's getting to the bat1 ,but ,flynn let drive a single1 to the wonderment of all1 ,and the much-despised ,blakey tore the cover off the ball2 ,and when the dust had lifted and they saw what had occurred1 ,there was ,blakey safe at second1 and ,flynn a-huggin' third4 ,then1 from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell1 ,it rumbled in the mountain-tops1 it rattled in the dell2 ,it struck upon the hillside and rebounded on the flat2 ,for ,casey1 mighty ,casey1 was advancing to the bat4 ,there was ease in ,casey's manner as he stepped into his place1 ,there was pride in ,casey's bearing1 and a smile on ,casey's face4 ,and when1 responding to the cheers1 he lightly doffed his hat1 ,no stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas ,casey at the bat4 ,ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt1 ,five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt2 ,then while the ,new ,york pitcher ground the ball into his hip1 ,defiance gleamed in ,casey's eye1 a sneer curled ,casey's lip4 ,and now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air1 ,and ,casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there4 ,close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-- ,that ain't my style1 said ,casey4 ,strike one1 the umpire said4 ,from the benches1 black with people1 there went up a muffled roar1 ,like the beating of great storm waves on a stern and distant shore4 ,kill him6 ,kill the umpire6 shouted someone on the stand4 ,and it's likely they'd have killed him had not ,casey raised a hand4 ,with a smile of ,christian charity great ,casey's visage shone2 ,he stilled the rising tumult2 he bade the game go on2 ,he signaled to ,sir ,timothy1 once more the spheroid flew2 ,but ,casey still ignored it1 and the umpire said1 ,strike two4 ,fraud1 cried the maddened thousands1 and echo answered ,fraud6 ,but one scornful look from ,casey and the audience was awed4 ,they saw his face grow stern and cold1 they saw his muscles strain1 ,and they knew that ,casey wouldn't let that ball go by again4 ,the sneer is gone from ,casey's lip1 his teeth are clenched in hate2 ,he pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate2 ,and now the pitcher holds the ball1 and now he lets it go1 ,and now the air is shattered by the force of ,casey's blow4 ,oh1 somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright2 ,the band is playing somewhere1 and somewhere hearts are light2 ,and somewhere men are laughing1 and somewhere children shout3 ,but there is no joy in ,mudville--mighty ,casey has struck out4 ,phineas ,thayer4 ,casey's ,revenge 7,being a reply to ,casey at the ,bat47 ,there were saddened hearts in ,mudville for a week or even more2 ,there were muttered oaths and curses--every fan in town was sore4 ,just think1 said one1 how soft it looked with ,casey at the bat6 ,and then to think he'd go and spring a bush league trick like that4 ,all his past fame was forgotten2 he was now a hopeless shine4 ,they called him ,strike-out ,casey from the mayor down the line4 ,and as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh1 ,while a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty ,casey's eye4 ,the lane is long1 someone has said1 that never turns again1 ,and ,fate1 though fickle1 often gives another chance to men4 ,and ,casey smiled--his rugged face no longer wore a frown2 ,the pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town4 ,all ,mudville has assembled2 ten thousand fans had come ,to see the twirler who had put big ,casey on the bum2 ,and when he stepped into the box the multitude went wild4 ,he doffed his cap in proud disdain--but ,casey only smiled4 ,play ball6 the umpire's voice rang out1 and then the game began2 ,but in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan ,who thought that ,mudville had a chance2 and with the setting sun ,their hopes sank low--the rival team was leading four to one4 ,the last half of the ninth came round1 with no change in the score2 ,but when the first man up hit safe the crowd began to roar4 ,the din increased1 the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard ,when the pitcher hit the second and gave four balls to the third4 ,three men on base--nobody out--three runs to tie the game6 ,a triple meant the highest niche in ,mudville's hall of fame4 ,but here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night ,when the fourth one fouled to catcher1 and the fifth flew out to right4 ,a dismal groan in chorus came--a scowl was on each face-- ,when ,casey walked up1 bat in hand1 and slowly took his place2 ,his bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed2 his teeth were clinched in hate2 ,he gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate4 ,but fame is fleeting as the wind1 and glory fades away2 ,there were no wild and woolly cheers1 no glad acclaim this day4 ,they hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored1 ,strike him out6 ,but ,casey gave no outward sign that he had heard the shout4 ,the pitcher smiled and cut one loose2 across the plate it spread2 ,another hiss1 another groan--,strike one6 the umpire said4 ,zip6 ,like a shot1 the second curve broke just below his knee-- ,strike two6 the umpire roared aloud2 but ,casey made no plea4 ,no roasting for the umpire now--his was an easy lot4 ,but here the pitcher twirled again--was that a rifle shot8 ,a whack2 a crack2 and out through space the leather pellet flew-- ,a blot against the distant sky1 a speck against the blue4 ,above the fence in center field1 in rapid whirling flight ,the sphere sailed on2 the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight4 ,ten thousand hats were thrown in air1 ten thousand threw a fit2 ,but no one ever found the ball that mighty ,casey hit6 ,oh1 somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun1 ,and somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun2 ,and somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall1 ,but ,mudville hearts are happy now--for ,casey hit the ball6 ,james ,wilson4 ,rock ,me to ,sleep ,backward1 turn backward1 ,o time1 in your flight1 ,make me a child again just for tonight6 ,mother1 come back from the echoless shore1 ,take me again to your heart as of yore2 ,kiss from my forehead the furrows of care1 ,smooth the few silver threads out of my hair2 ,over my slumbers your loving watch keep2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,backward1 flow backward1 ,o tide of the years6 ,i am so weary of toil and of tears1-- ,toil without recompense1 tears all in vain1-- ,take them1 and give me my childhood again6 ,i have grown weary of dust and decay1-- ,weary of flinging my soul-wealth away2 ,weary of sowing for others to reap2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,tired of the hollow1 the base1 the untrue1 ,mother1 ,o mother1 my heart calls for you6 ,many a summer the grass has grown green1 ,blossomed and faded1 our faces between2 ,yet with strong yearning and passionate pain ,long ,i to-night for your presence again4 ,come from the silence so long and so deep2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,over my heart1 in the days that are flown1 ,no love like mother-love ever has shone2 ,no other worship abides and endures-- ,faithful1 unselfish and patient1 like yours2 ,none like a mother can charm away pain ,from the sick soul and the world-weary brain4 ,slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,come1 let your brown hair1 just lighted with gold1 ,fall on your shoulders again as of old2 ,let it drop over my forehead to-night1 ,shading my faint eyes away from the light2 ,for with its sunny-edged shadows once more ,haply will throng the sweet visions of yore2 ,lovingly1 softly1 its bright billows sweep2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,mother1 dear mother1 the years have been long ,since ,i last listened your lullaby song2 ,sing1 then1 and unto my soul it shall seem ,womanhood's years have been only a dream4 ,clasped to your breast in a loving embrace1 ,with your light lashes just sweeping my face1 ,never hereafter to wake or to weep2-- ,rock me to sleep1 mother1 rock me to sleep4 ,elizabeth ,akers ,allen4 ,an ,answer to ,rock ,me to ,sleep ,my child1 ah1 my child2 thou art weary to-night1 ,thy spirit is sad1 and dim is the light2 ,thou wouldst call me back from the echoless shore ,to the trials of life1 to thy heart as of yore2 ,thou longest again for my fond loving care1 ,for my kiss on thy cheek1 for my hand on thy hair2 ,but angels around thee their loving watch keep1 ,and angels1 my darling1 will rock thee to sleep4 ,backward8 ,nay1 onward1 ye swift rolling years6 ,gird on thy armor1 keep back thy tears2 ,count not thy trials nor efforts in vain1 ,they'll bring thee the light of thy childhood again4 ,thou shouldst not weary1 my child1 by the way1 ,but watch for the light of that brighter day2 ,not tired of ,sowing for others to reap1 ,for angels1 my darling1 will rock thee to sleep4 ,tired1 my child1 of the base1 the untrue6 ,i have tasted the cup they have given to you2 ,i've felt the deep sorrow in the living green ,of a low mossy grave by the silvery stream4 ,but the dear mother ,i then sought for in vain ,is an angel presence and with me again2 ,and in the still night1 from the silence deep1 ,come the bright angels to rock me to sleep4 ,nearer thee now than in days that are flown1 ,purer the love-light encircling thy home2 ,far more enduring the watch for tonight ,than ever earth worship away from the light2 ,soon the dark shadows will linger no more4 ,nor come to thy call from the opening door2 ,but know thou1 my child1 that the angels watch keep1 ,and soon1 very soon1 they'll rock thee to sleep4 ,they'll sing thee to sleep with a soothing song2 ,and1 waking1 thou'lt be with a heavenly throng2 ,and thy life1 with its toil and its tears and pain1 ,thou wilt then see has not been in vain4 ,thou wilt meet those in bliss whom on earth thou didst love1 ,and whom thou hast taught of the ,mansions above4 ,never hereafter to suffer or weep1 ,the angels1 my darling1 will rock thee to sleep4 ,bay ,billy 7,december #ae1 #ahfb7 ',twas the last fight at ,fredericksburg1-- ,perhaps the day you reck1 ,our boys1 the ,twenty-second ,maine1 ,kept ,early's men in check4 ,just where ,wade ,hampton boomed away ,the fight went neck and neck4 ,all day the weaker wing we held1 ,and held it with a will4 ,five several stubborn times we charged ,the battery on the hill1 ,and five times beaten back1 re-formed1 ,and kept our column still4 ,at last from out the center fight ,spurred up a general's aide1 ,that battery must silenced be6 ,he cried1 as past he sped4 ,our colonel simply touched his cap1 ,and then1 with measured tread1 ,to lead the crouching line once more1 ,the grand old fellow came4 ,no wounded man but raised his head ,and strove to gasp his name1 ,and those who could not speak nor stir1 ,god blessed him just the same4 ,for he was all the world to us1 ,that hero gray and grim2 ,right well we knew that fearful slope ,we'd climb with none but him1 ,though while his white head led the way ,we'd charge hell's portals in4 ,this time we were not half way up ,when1 midst the storm of shell1 ,our leader1 with his sword upraised1 ,beneath our bayonets fell1 ,and as we bore him back1 the foe ,set up a joyous yell4 ,our hearts went with him4 ,back we swept1 ,and when the bugle said1 ,up1 charge again6 no man was there ,but hung his dogged head4 ,we've no one left to lead us now1 ,the sullen soldiers said4 ,just then before the laggard line ,the colonel's horse we spied-- ,bay ,billy1 with his trappings on1 ,his nostrils swelling wide1 ,as though still on his gallant back ,the master sat astride4 ,right royally he took the place ,that was of old his wont1 ,and with a neigh that seemed to say1 ,above the battle's brunt1 ,how can the ,twenty-second charge ,if ,i am not in front8 ,like statues rooted there we stood1 ,and gazed a little space2 ,above that floating mane we missed ,the dear familiar face1 ,but we saw ,bay ,billy's eye of fire1 ,and it gave us heart of grace4 ,no bugle-call could rouse us all ,as that brave sight had done4 ,down all the battered line we felt ,a lightning impulse run4 ,up1 up the hill we followed ,bill1-- ,and we captured every gun6 ,and when upon the conquered height ,died out the battle's hum1 ,vainly 'mid living and the dead ,we sought our leader dumb4 ,it seemed as if a spectre steed ,to win that day had come4 ,and then the dusk and dew of night ,fell softly o'er the plain1 ,as though o'er man's dread work of death ,the angels wept again1 ,and drew night's curtain gently round ,a thousand beds of pain4 ,all night the surgeons' torches went ,the ghastly rows between1-- ,all night with solemn step ,i paced ,the torn and bloody green4 ,but who that fought in the big war ,such dread sights have not seen8 ,at last the morning broke4 ,the lark ,sang in the merry skies1 ,as if to e'en the sleepers there ,it said ,awake1 arise6 ,though naught but that last trump of all ,could ope their heavy eyes4 ,and then once more1 with banners gay1 ,stretched out the long brigade4 ,trimly upon the furrowed field ,the troops stood on parade1 ,and bravely 'mid the ranks were closed ,the gaps the fight had made4 ,not half the ,twenty-second's men ,were in their place that morn2 ,and ,corporal ,dick1 who yester-noon ,stood six brave fellows on1 ,now touched my elbow in the ranks1 ,for all between were gone4 ,ah6 who forgets that weary hour ,when1 as with misty eyes1 ,to call the old familiar roll ,the solemn sergeant tries1-- ,one feels that thumping of the heart ,as no prompt voice replies4 ,and as in faltering tone and slow ,the last few names were said1 ,across the field some missing horse ,toiled up with weary tread4 ,it caught the sergeant's eye1 and quick ,bay ,billy's name he read4 ,yes6 there the old bay hero stood1 ,all safe from battle's harms1 ,and ere an order could be heard1 ,or the bugle's quick alarms1 ,down all the front1 from end to end1 ,the troops presented arms6 ,not all the shoulder-straps on earth ,could still our mighty cheer2 ,and ever from that famous day1 ,when rang the roll-call clear1 ,bay ,billy's name was read1 and then ,the whole line answered1 ,here6 ,frank ,h4 ,gassaway4 ,the ,legend of the ,organ-,builder ,day by day the ,organ-builder in his lonely chamber wrought2 ,day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought2 ,till at last the work was ended2 and no organ voice so grand ,ever yet had soared responsive to the master's magic hand4 ,ay1 so rarely was it builded that whenever groom and bride1 ,who1 in ,god's sight were well-pleasing1 in the church stood side by side1 ,without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play1 ,and the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray4 ,he was young1 the ,organ-builder1 and o'er all the land his fame ,ran with fleet and eager footsteps1 like a swiftly rushing flame4 ,all the maidens heard the story2 all the maidens blushed and smiled1 ,by his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled4 ,so he sought and won the fairest1 and the wedding-day was set ,happy day--the brightest jewel in the glad year's coronet6 ,but when they the portal entered1 he forgot his lovely bride-- ,forgot his love1 forgot his ,god1 and his heart swelled high with pride4 ,ah6 thought he1 how great a master am ,i6 ,when the organ plays1 ,how the vast cathedral-arches will re-echo with my praise6 ,up the aisle the gay procession moved4 ,the altar shone afar1 ,with every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star4 ,but he listened1 listened1 listened1 with no thought of love or prayer1 ,for the swelling notes of triumph from his organ standing there4 ,all was silent4 ,nothing heard he save the priest's low monotone1 ,and the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor of fretted stone4 ,then his lips grew white with anger4 ,surely ,god was pleased with him1 ,who had built the wondrous organ for ,his temple vast and dim6 ,whose the fault then8 ,hers--the maiden standing meekly at his side6 ,flamed his jealous rage1 maintaining she was false to him--his bride4 ,vain were all her protestations1 vain her innocence and truth2 ,on that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth4 ,far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name3 ,for ten weary years he dwelt there1 nursing still his wrath and shame4 ,then his haughty heart grew softer1 and he thought by night and day ,of the bride he had deserted1 till he hardly dared to pray2 ,thought of her1 a spotless maiden1 fair and beautiful and good2 ,thought of his relentless anger1 that had cursed her womanhood2 ,till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete1 ,and he longed1 with bitter longing1 just to fall down at her feet4 ,ah6 how throbbed his heart when1 after many a weary day and night1 ,rose his native towers before him1 with the sunset glow alight6 ,through the gates into the city on he pressed with eager tread2 ,there he met a long procession--mourners following the dead4 ,now why weep ye so1 good people8 ,and whom bury ye today8 ,why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way8 ,has some saint gone up to heaven8 ,yes1 they answered1 weeping sore2 ,for the ,organ-builder's saintly wife our eyes shall see no more2 ,and because her days were given to the service of ,god's poor1 ,from ,his church we mean to bury her4 ,see6 yonder is the door4 ,no one knew him2 no one wondered when he cried out1 white with pain2 ,no one questioned when1 with pallid lips1 he poured his tears like rain4 ',tis someone she has comforted1 who mourns with us1 they said1 ,as he made his way unchallenged1 and bore the coffin's head2 ,bore it through the open portal1 bore it up the echoing aisle1 ,let it down before the altar1 where the lights burned clear the while4 ,when1 oh1 hark2 the wondrous organ of itself began to play ,strains of rare1 unearthly sweetness never heard until that day6 ,all the vaulted arches rang with music sweet and clear2 ,all the air was filled with glory1 as of angels hovering near2 ,and ere yet the strain was ended1 he who bore the coffin's head1 ,with the smile of one forgiven1 gently sank beside it--dead4 ,they who raised the body knew him1 and they laid him by his bride2 ,down the aisle and o'er the threshold they were carried1 side by side2 ,while the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard before1 ,and then softly sank to silence--silence kept forevermore4 ,julia ,c4 ,r4 ,dorr4 ,our ,folks ,hi6 ,harry ,holly6 ,halt2 and tell ,a fellow just a thing or two2 ,you've had a furlough1 been to see ,how all the folks in ,jersey do4 ,it's months ago since ,i was there-- ,i1 and a bullet from ,fair ,oaks4 ,when you were home1 old comrade1 say1 ,did you see any of our folks8 ,you did8 ,shake hands--,oh1 ain't ,i glad6 ,for if ,i do look grim and rough1 ,i've got some feelin'-- ,people think ,a soldier's heart is mighty tough2 ,but1 ,harry1 when the bullets fly1 ,and hot saltpetre flames and smokes1 ,while whole battalions lie afield1 ,one's apt to think about his folks4 ,and so you saw them--when8 and where8 ,the old man--is he hearty yet8 ,and mother--does she fade at all8 ,or does she seem to pine and fret ,for me8 ,and ,sis8--has she grown tall8 ,and did you see her friend--you know-- ,that ,annie ,moss-- 7,how this pipe chokes67 ,where did you see her8--,tell3 me1 ,hal1 ,a lot of news about our folks1 ,you saw them in the church--you say1 ,it's likely1 for they're always there4 ,not ,sunday8 ,no8 ,a funeral8 ,who8 ,who1 ,harry8 how you shake and stare6 ,all well1 you say1 and all were out4 ,what ails you1 ,hal8 ,is this a hoax8 ,why don't you tell me like a man3 ,what is the matter with our folks8 ,i said all well1 old comrade1 true2 ,i say all well1 for ,he knows best ,who takes the young ones in his arms1 ,before the sun goes to the west4 ,the axe-man ,death deals right and left1 ,and flowers fall as well as oaks2 ,and so-- ,fair ,annie blooms no more6 ,and that's the matter with your folks4 ,see1 this long curl was kept for you2 ,and this white blossom from her breast2 ,and here--your sister ,bessie wrote ,a letter telling all the rest4 ,bear up1 old friend4 ,nobody speaks2 ,only the old camp-raven croaks1 ,and soldiers whisper1 ,boys1 be still2 ,there's some bad news from ,granger's folks4 ,he turns his back--the only foe ,that ever saw it--on this grief1 ,and1 as men will1 keeps down the tears ,kind nature sends to woe's relief4 ,then answers he3 ,ah1 ,hal1 ,i'll try2 ,but in my throat there's something chokes1 ,because1 you see1 ,i've thought so long ,to count her in among our folks4 ,i s'pose she must be happy now1 ,but still ,i will keep thinking1 too1 ,i could have kept all trouble off1 ,by being tender1 kind and true4 ,but maybe not4 ,she's safe up there1 ,and when the ,hand deals other strokes1 ,she'll stand by ,heaven's gate1 ,i know1 ,and wait to welcome in our folks4 ,ethel ,lynn ,beers4 ,the ,face upon the ,floor ',twas a balmy summer evening1 and a goodly crowd was there1 ,which well-nigh filled ,joe's bar-room on the corner of the square2 ,and as songs and witty stories came through the open door1 ,a vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor4 ,where did it come from8 someone said4 ,the wind has blown it in4 ,what does it want8 another cried4 ,some whisky1 rum or gin8 ,here1 ,toby1 seek him1 if your stomach's equal to the work-- ,i wouldn't touch him with a fork1 he's as filthy as a ,turk4 ,this badinage the poor wretch took with stoical1 good grace2 ,in fact1 he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place4 ,come1 boys1 ,i know there's kindly hearts among so good a crowd-- ,to be in such good company would make a deacon proud4 ,give me a drink--that's what ,i want--,i'm out of funds1 you know2 ,when ,i had cash to treat the gang1 this hand was never slow4 ,what8 ,you laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou2 ,i once was fixed as well1 my boys1 as any one of you4 ,there1 thanks2 that's braced me nicely2 ,god bless you one and all2 ,next time ,i pass this good saloon1 ,i'll make another call4 ,give you a song8 ,no1 ,i can't do that1 my singing days are past2 ,my voice is cracked1 my throat's worn out1 and my lungs are going fast4 ,say6 give me another whisky1 and ,i'll tell you what ,i'll do-- ,i'll tell you a funny story1 and a fact1 ,i promise1 too4 ,that ,i was ever a decent man1 not one of you would think2 ,but ,i was1 some four or five years back4 ,say1 give me another drink4 ,fill her up1 ,joe1 ,i want to put some life into my frame-- ,such little drinks1 to a bum like me1 are miserably tame2 ,five fingers--there1 that's the scheme--and corking whisky1 too4 ,well1 here's luck1 boys2 and landlord1 my best regards to you4 ,you've treated me pretty kindly1 and ,i'd like to tell you how ,i came to be the dirty sot you see before you now4 ,as ,i told you1 once ,i was a man1 with muscle1 frame and health1 ,and but for a blunder1 ought to have made considerable wealth4 ,i was a painter--not one that daubed on bricks and wood1 ,but an artist1 and1 for my age1 was rated pretty good4 ,i worked hard at my canvas1 and was bidding fair to rise1 ,for gradually ,i saw the star of fame before my eyes4 ,i made a picture1 perhaps you've seen1 'tis called the ',chase of ,fame4' ,it brought me fifteen hundred pounds1 and added to my name4 ,and then ,i met a woman--now comes the funny part-- ,with eyes that petrified my brain and sunk into my heart4 ,why don't you laugh8 ',tis funny that the vagabond you see ,could ever love a woman1 and expect her love for me2 ,but 'twas so1 and for a month or two her smiles were freely given1 ,and when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven4 ,did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give1 ,with a form like the ,milo ,venus1 too beautiful to live2 ,with eyes that would beat the ,koh-i-noor1 and a wealth of chestnut hair8 ,if so1 'twas she1 for there never was another half so fair4 ,i was working on a portrait1 one afternoon in ,may1 ,of a fair-haired boy1 a friend of mine1 who lived across the way2 ,and ,madeline admired it1 and1 much to my surprise1 ,said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes4 ,it didn't take long to know him1 and before the month had flown1 ,my friend had stolen my darling1 and ,i was left alone2 ,and ere a year of misery had passed above my head1 ,the jewel ,i had treasured so had tarnished1 and was dead4 ,that's why ,i took to drink1 boys4 ,why1 ,i never saw you smile1-- ,i thought you'd be amused1 and laughing all the while4 ,why1 what's the mattter1 friend8 ,there's a teardrop in your eye1 ,come1 laugh1 like me2 'tis only babes and women that should cry4 ,say1 boys1 if you give me just another whisky1 ,i'll be glad1 ,and ,i'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad4 ,give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score-- ,you shall see the lovely ,madeline upon the bar-room floor4 ,another drink1 and1 with chalk in hand1 the vagabond began ,to sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man4 ,then as he placed another lock upon the shapely head1 ,with a fearful shriek1 he leaped1 and fell across the picture dead4 ,h4 ,antoine ,d',arcy4 ,the ,calf ,path ,one day through the primeval wood1 ,a calf walked home1 as good calves should2 ,but made a trail all bent askew1 ,a crooked trail1 as all calves do4 ,since then three hundred years have fled1 ,and1 ,i infer1 the calf is dead4 ,but still he left behind his trail1 ,and thereby hangs a moral tale4 ,the trail was taken up next day ,by a lone dog that passed that way1 ,and then the wise bell-wether sheep ,pursued the trail o'er vale and steep1 ,and drew the flock behind him1 too1 ,as good bell-wethers always do4 ,and from that day1 o'er hill and glade1 ,through those old woods a path was made4 ,and many men wound in and out1 ,and turned and dodged and bent about1 ,and uttered words of righteous wrath ,because 'twas such a crooked path3 ,but still they followed--do not laugh-- ,the first migrations of that calf1 ,and through this winding woodway stalked ,because he wabbled when he walked4 ,this forest path became a lane1 ,that bent and turned and turned again2 ,this crooked path became a road4 ,where many a poor horse1 with his load1 ,toiled on beneath the burning sun1 ,and traveled some three miles in one4 ,and thus a century and a half ,they trod the footsteps of that calf4 ,the years passed on in swiftness fleet1 ,the road became a village street2 ,and this1 before men were aware1 ,a city's crowded thoroughfare4 ,and soon the central street was this ,of a renowned metropolis4 ,and men two centuries and a half ,trod in the footsteps of that calf6 ,each day a hundred thousand rout ,followed the zigzag calf about2 ,and o'er his crooked journey went ,the traffic of a continent4 ,a hundred thousand men were led ,by a calf near three centuries dead4 ,they followed still his crooked way ,and lost one hundred years a day2 ,for thus such reverence is lent ,to well-established precedent4 ,a moral lesson this might teach ,were ,i ordained and called to preach2 ,for men are prone to go it blind1 ,along the calf-paths of the mind1 ,and work away from sun to sun ,to do what other men have done4 ,they follow in the beaten track1 ,and out and in1 and forth and back1 ,and still their devious course pursue1 ,to keep the path that others do4 ,but how the wise wood-gods must laugh1 ,who saw the first primeval calf2 ,ah1 many things this tale might teach-- ,but ,i am not ordained to preach4 ,sam ,walter ,foss4 ,the ,ride of ,jennie ,m',neal ,paul ,revere was a rider bold-- ,well has his valorous deed been told2 ,sheridan's ride was a glorious one-- ,often it has been dwelt upon2 ,but why should men do all the deeds ,on which the love of a patriot feeds8 ,hearken to me1 while ,i reveal ,the dashing ride of ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,on a spot as pretty as might be found ,in the dangerous length of the ,neutral ,ground1 ,in a cottage1 cozy1 and all their own1 ,she and her mother lived alone4 ,safe were the two1 with their frugal store1 ,from all of the many who passed their door2 ,for ,jennie's mother was strange to fears1 ,and ,jennie was large for fifteen years2 ,with vim her eyes were glistening1 ,her hair was the hue of a blackbird's wing2 ,and while the friends who knew her well ,the sweetness of her heart could tell1 ,a gun that hung on the kitchen wall ,looked solemnly quick to heed her call2 ,and they who were evil-minded knew ,her nerve was strong and her aim was true4 ,so all kind words and acts did deal ,to generous1 black-eyed ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,one night1 when the sun had crept to bed1 ,and rain-clouds lingered overhead1 ,and sent their surly drops for proof ,to drum a tune on the cottage roof1 ,close after a knock at the outer door ,there entered a dozen dragoons or more4 ,their red coats1 stained by the muddy road1 ,that they were ,british soldiers showed2 ,the captain his hostess bent to greet1 ,saying1 ,madam1 please give us a bit to eat2 ,we will pay you well1 and1 if may be1 ,this bright-eyed girl for pouring our tea2 ,then we must dash ten miles ahead1 ,to catch a rebel colonel abed4 ,he is visiting home1 as doth appear2 ,we will make his pleasure cost him dear4 ,and they fell on the hasty supper with zeal1 ,close-watched the while by ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,for the gray-haired colonel they hovered near ,had been her true friend1 kind and dear2 ,and oft1 in her younger days1 had he ,right proudly perched her upon his knee1 ,and told her stories many a one ,concerning the ,french war lately done4 ,and oft together the two friends were1 ,and many the arts he had taught to her2 ,she had hunted by his fatherly side1 ,he had shown her how to fence and ride2 ,and once had said1 ,the time may be1 ,your skill and courage may stand by me4 ,so sorrow for him she could but feel1 ,brave1 grateful-hearted ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,with never a thought or a moment more1 ,bare-headed she slipped from the cottage door1 ,ran out where the horses were left to feed1 ,unhitched and mounted the captain's steed1 ,and down the hilly and rock-strewn way ,she urged the fiery horse of gray4 ,around her slender and cloakless form ,pattered and moaned the ceaseless storm2 ,secure and tight a gloveless hand ,grasped the reins with stern command2 ,and full and black her long hair streamed1 ,whenever the ragged lightning gleamed4 ,and on she rushed for the colonel's weal1 ,brave1 lioness-hearted ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,hark6 from the hills1 a moment mute1 ,came a clatter of hoofs in hot pursuit2 ,and a cry from the foremost trooper said1 ,halt6 or your blood be on your head2 ,she heeded it not1 and not in vain ,she lashed the horse with the bridle-rein4 ,so into the night the gray horse strode2 ,his shoes hewed fire from the rocky road2 ,and the high-born courage that never dies ,flashed from his rider's coal-black eyes4 ,the pebbles flew from the fearful race3 ,the raindrops grasped at her glowing face4 ,on1 on1 brave beast6 with loud appeal1 ,cried eager1 resolute ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,halt6 once more came the voice of dread2 ,halt6 or your blood be on your head6 ,then1 no one answering to the calls1 ,sped after her a volley of balls4 ,they passed her in her rapid flight1 ,they screamed to her left1 they screamed to her right2 ,but1 rushing still o'er the slippery track1 ,she sent no token of answer back1 ,except a silvery laughter-peal1 ,brave1 merry-hearted ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,so on she rushed1 at her own good will1 ,through wood and valley1 o'er plain and hill2 ,the gray horse did his duty well1 ,till all at once he stumbled and fell1 ,himself escaping the nets of harm1 ,but flinging the girl with a broken arm4 ,still undismayed by the numbing pain1 ,she clung to the horse's bridle-rein ,and gently bidding him to stand1 ,petted him with her able hand2 ,then sprung again to the saddle bow1 ,and shouted1 ,one more trial now6 ,as if ashamed of the heedless fall1 ,he gathered his strength once more for all1 ,and1 galloping down a hillside steep1 ,gained on the troopers at every leap2 ,no more the high-bred steed did reel1 ,but ran his best for ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,they were a furlong behind1 or more1 ,when the girl burst through the colonel's door1 ,her poor arm helpless hanging with pain1 ,and she all drabbled and drenched with rain1 ,but her cheeks as red as fire-brands are1 ,and her eyes as bright as a blazing star1 ,and shouted1 ,quick6 be quick1 ,i say6 ,they come6 they come6 ,away6 away6 ,then1 sunk on the rude white floor of deal1 ,poor1 brave1 exhausted ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,the startled colonel sprung1 and pressed ,the wife and children to his breast1 ,and turned away from his fireside bright1 ,and glided into the stormy night2 ,then soon and safely made his way ,to where the patriot army lay4 ,but first he bent in the dim firelight1 ,and kissed the forehead broad and white1 ,and blessed the girl who had ridden so well ,to keep him out of a prison-cell4 ,the girl roused up at the martial din1 ,just as the troopers came rushing in1 ,and laughed1 e'en in the midst of a moan1 ,saying1 ,good sirs1 your bird has flown4 ',tis ,i who have scared him from his nest2 ,so deal with me now as you think best4 ,but the grand young captain bowed1 and said1 ,never you hold a moment's dread4 ,of womankind ,i must crown you queen2 ,so brave a girl ,i have never seen4 ,wear this gold ring as your valor's due2 ,and when peace comes ,i will come for you4 ,but ,jennie's face an arch smile wore1 ,as she said1 ,there's a lad in ,putnam's corps1 ,who told me the same1 long time ago2 ,you two would never agree1 ,i know4 ,i promised my love to be as true as steel1 ,said good1 sure-hearted ,jennie ,m',neal4 ,will ,carleton4 ,the ,hand ,that ,rules the ,world ,they say that man is mighty1 he governs land and sea2 ,he wields a mighty scepter o'er lesser powers that be2 ,by a mightier power and stronger1 man from his throne is hurled1 ,and the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world4 ,blessings on the hand of woman6 angels guard its strength and grace1 ,in the palace1 cottage1 hovel1 oh1 no matter where the place6 ,would that never storms assailed it1 rainbows ever gently curled2 ,for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world4 ,infancy's the tender fountain1 power may with beauty flow2 ,mother's first to guide the streamlets1 from them souls unresting grow2 ,grow on for the good or evil1 sunshine streamed or darkness hurled2 ,for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world4 ,woman1 how divine your mission here upon our natal sod6 ,keep1 oh1 keep the young heart open always to the breath of ,god6 ,all true trophies of the ages are from mother-love impearled1 ,for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world4 ,blessings on the hand of woman6 fathers1 sons and daughters cry1 ,and the sacred song is mingled with the worship in the sky-- ,mingles where no tempest darkens1 rainbows evermore are curled2 ,for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world4 ,william ,ross ,wallace4 ,what ,i ,live ,for ,i live for those who love me1 ,whose hearts are kind and true1 ,for the heaven that smiles above me1 ,and awaits my spirit1 too2 ,for the human ties that bind me1 ,for the task by ,god assigned me1 ,for the bright hopes left behind me1 ,and the good that ,i can do4 ,i live to learn their story ,who've suffered for my sake1 ,to emulate their glory1 ,and to follow in their wake2 ,bards1 patriots1 martyrs1 sages1 ,the noble of all ages1 ,whose deeds crowd history's pages1 ,and ,time's great volume make4 ,i live to hold communion ,with all that is divine1 ,to feel there is a union ',twixt ,nature's heart and mine2 ,to profit by affliction1 ,reap truths from fields of fiction1 ,grow wiser from conviction1 ,and fulfill each grand design4 ,i live to hail that season1 ,by gifted minds foretold1 ,when men shall rule by reason1 ,and not alone by gold2 ,when man to man united1 ,and every wrong thing righted1 ,the whole world shall be lighted ,as ,eden was of old4 ,i live for those who love me1 ,for those who know me true1 ,for the heaven that smiles above me1 ,and awaits my spirit1 too2 ,for the cause that lacks assistance1 ,for the wrong that needs resistance1 ,for the future in the distance1 ,and the good that ,i can do4 ,george ,linnaeus ,banks4 ,my ,love ,ship ,if all the ships ,i have at sea ,should come a-sailing home to me1 ,weighed down with gems1 and silk and gold1 ,ah6 well1 the harbor would not hold ,so many ships as there would be1 ,if all my ships came home from sea4 ,if half my ships came home from sea1 ,and brought their precious freight to me1 ,ah6 well1 ,i should have wealth as great ,as any king that sits in state1 ,so rich the treasure there would be ,in half my ships now out at sea4 ,if but one ship ,i have at sea ,should come a-sailing home to me1 ,ah6 well1 the storm clouds then might frown1 ,for1 if the others all went down1 ,still rich and glad and proud ,i'd be ,if that one ship came home to me4 ,if that one ship went down at sea ,and all the others came to me ,weighed down with gems and wealth untold1 ,with honor1 riches1 glory1 gold1 ,the poorest soul on earth ,i'd be ,if that one ship came not to me4 ,o skies1 be calm2 ,o winds1 blow free6 ,blow all my ships safe home to me1 ,but if thou sendest some awrack1 ,to nevermore come sailing back1 ,send any1 all that skim the sea1 ,but send my love ship home to me4 ,ella ,wheeler ,wilcox4 ,the ,man ,with the ,hoe 7,written after seeing ,millet's famous painting47 ,god made man in ,his own image2 in the image of ,god made he him4--,,genesis4 ,bowed by the weight of centuries he leans ,upon his hoe and gazes on the ground1 ,the emptiness of ages in his face1 ,and on his back the burden of the world4 ,who made him dead to rapture and despair1 ,a thing that grieves not and that never hopes1 ,stolid and stunned1 a brother to the ox8 ,who loosened and let down this brutal jaw8 ,whose was the hand that slanted back this brow8 ,whose breath blew out the light within this brain8 ,is this the ,thing1 the ,lord ,god made and gave ,to have dominion over sea and land2 ,to trace the stars and search the heavens for power2 ,to feel the passion of ,eternity8 ,is this the dream ,he dreamed who shaped the suns ,and pillared the blue firmament with light8 ,down all the stretch of ,hell to its last gulf ,there is no shape more terrible than this-- ,more tongued with censure of the world's blind greed-- ,more filled with signs and portents for the soul-- ,more fraught with menace to the universe4 ,what gulfs between him and the seraphim6 ,slave of the wheel of labor1 what to him ,are ,plato and the swing of ,pleiades8 ,what the long reaches of the peaks of song1 ,the rift of dawn1 the reddening of the rose8 ,through this dread shape the suffering ages look2 ,time's tragedy is in that aching stoop2 ,through this dread shape humanity betrayed1 ,plundered1 profaned and disinherited1 ,cries protest to the judges of the world1 ,a protest that is also prophecy4 ,o masters1 lords and rulers in all lands1 ,is this the handiwork you give to ,god1 ,this monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched8 ,how will you ever straighten up this shape2 ,touch it again with immortality2 ,give back the upward looking and the light1 ,rebuild it in the music and the dream2 ,make right the immemorial infamies1 perfidious wrongs1 immedicable woes8 ,o masters1 lords and rulers in all lands1 ,how will the ,future reckon with this man8 ,how answer his brute question in that hour ,when whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world8 ,how will it be with kingdom and with kings-- ,with those who shaped him to the thing he is-- ,when this dumb ,terror shall reply to ,god1 ,after the silence of the centuries8 ,edwin ,markham4 ,poorhouse ,nan ,did you say you wished to see me1 sir8 ,step in2 'tis a cheerless place1 ,but you're heartily welcome all the same2 to be poor is no disgrace4 ,have ,i been here long8 ,oh1 yes1 sir6 'tis thirty winters gone ,since poor ,jim took to crooked ways and left me all alone6 ,jim was my son1 and a likelier lad you'd never wish to see1 ,till evil counsels won his heart and led him away from me4 ',tis the old1 sad1 pitiful story1 sir1 of the devil's winding stair1 ,and men go down--and down--and down--to blackness and despair2 ,tossing about like wrecks at sea1 with helm and anchor lost1 ,on and on1 through the surging waves1 nor caring to count the cost2 ,i doubt sometimes if the ,savior sees1 ,he seems so far away1 ,how the souls ,he loved and died for1 are drifting--drifting astray6 ,indeed1'tis little wonder1 sir1 if woman shrinks and cries ,when the life-blood on ,rum's altar spilled is calling to the skies2 ,small wonder if her own heart feels each sacrificial blow1 ,for isn't each life a part of hers8 each pain her hurt and woe8 ,read all the records of crime and shame--'tis bitterly1 sadly true2 ,where manliness and honor die1 there some woman's heart dies1 too4 ,i often think1 when ,i hear folks talk so prettily and so fine ,of alcohol as needful food2 of the moderate use of wine2 ,how the world couldn't do without it1 there was clearly no other way ,but for a man to drink1 or let it alone1 as his own strong will might say2 ,that to use it1 but not abuse it1 was the proper thing to do1 ,how ,i wish they'd let old ,poorhouse ,nan preach her little sermon1 too6 ,i would give them scenes in a woman's life that would make their pulses stir1 ,for ,i was a drunkard's child and wife--aye1 a drunkard's mother1 sir6 ,i would tell of childish terrors1 of childish tears and pain4 ,of cruel blows from a father's hand when rum had crazed his brain2 ,he always said he could drink his fill1 or let it alone as well2 ,perhaps he might1 he was killed one night in a brawl--in a grog-shop hell6 ,i would tell of years of loveless toil the drunkard's child had passed1 ,with just one gleam of sunshine1 too beautiful to last4 ,when ,i married ,tom ,i thought for sure ,i had nothing more to fear1 ,that life would come all right at last2 the world seemed full of cheer4 ,but he took to moderate drinking--he allowed 'twas a harmless thing1 ,so the arrow sped1 and my bird of ,hope came down with a broken wing4 ,tom was only a moderate drinker2 ah1 sir1 do you bear in mind ,how the plodding tortoise in the race left the leaping hare behind8 ',twas because he held right on and on1 steady and true1 if slow1 ,and that's the way1 ,i'm thinking1 that the moderate drinkers go6 ,step over step--day after day--with sleepless1 tireless pace1 ,while the toper sometimes looks behind and tarries in the race6 ,ah1 heavily in the well-worn path poor ,tom walked day by day1 ,for my heart-strings clung about his feet and tangled up the way2 ,the days were dark1 and friends were gone1 and life dragged on full slow1 ,and children came1 like reapers1 and to a harvest of want and woe6 ,two of them died1 and ,i was glad when they lay before me dead2 ,i had grown so weary of their cries--their pitiful cries for bread4 ,there came a time when my heart was stone2 ,i could neither hope nor pray2 ,poor ,tom lay out in the ,potter's ,field1 and my boy had gone astray2 ,my boy who'd been my idol1 while1 like hound athirst for blood1 ,between my breaking heart and him the liquor seller stood1 ,and lured him on with pleasant words1 his pleasures and his wine2 ,ah1 ,god have pity on other hearts as bruised and hurt as mine4 ,there were whispers of evil-doing1 of dishonor1 and of shame1 ,that ,i cannot bear to think of now1 and would not dare to name6 ,there was hiding away from the light of day1 there was creeping about at night1 ,a hurried word of parting--then a criminal's stealthy flight6 ,his lips were white with remorse and fright when he gave me a good-by kiss2 ,and ,i've never seen my poor lost boy from that black day to this4 ,ah1 none but a mother can tell you1 sir1 how a mother's heart will ache1 ,with the sorrow that comes of a sinning child1 with grief for a lost one's sake1 ,when she knows the feet she trained to walk have gone so far astray1 ,and the lips grown bold with curses that she taught to sing and pray2 ,a child may fear--a wife may weep1 but of all sad things1 none other ,seems half so sorrowful to me as being a drunkard's mother4 ,they tell me that down in the vilest dens of the city's crime and murk1 ,there are men with the hearts of angels1 doing the angels' work2 ,that they win back the lost and the straying1 that they help the weak to stand1 ,by the wonderful power of loving words--and the help of ,god's right hand6 ,and often and often1 the dear ,lord knows1 ,i've knelt and prayed to ,him1 ,that somewhere1 somehow1 'twould happen that they'd find and save my ,jim6 ,you'll say 'tis a poor old woman's whim2 but when ,i prayed last night1 ,right over yon eastern window there shone a wonderful light6 7,leastways it looked that way to me7 and out of the light there fell ,the softest voice ,i had ever heard3 it rung like a silver bell2 ,and these were the words1 ,the prodigal turns1 so tired by want and sin1 ,he seeks his father's open door--he weeps--and enters in4 ,why1 sir1 you're crying as hard as ,i2 what--is it really done8 ,have the loving voice and the ,helping ,hand brought back my wandering son8 ,did you kiss me and call me ,mother--and hold me to your breast1 ,or is it one of the taunting dreams that come to mock my rest8 ,no--no6 thank ,god1 'tis a dream come true6 ,i can die1 for ,he's saved my boy6 ,and the poor old heart that had lived on grief was broken at last by joy6 ,lucy ,m4 ,blinn4 ,why ,should the ,spirit of ,mortal be ,proud6 ,oh1 why should the spirit of mortal be proud6 ,like a swift fleeting meteor1 a fast flying cloud1 ,a flash of the lightning1 a break of the wave1 ,he passes from life to his rest in the grave4 ,the leaves of the oak and the willows shall fade1 ,be scattered around1 and together be laid2 ,and the young and the old1 and the low and the high ,shall moulder to dust1 and together shall die4 ,the child whom a mother attended and loved1 ,the mother that infant's affection who proved1 ,the husband that mother and infant who blessed1 ,each--all are away to their dwelling of rest4 ,the maid on whose cheek1 on whose brow1 in whose eye ,shone beauty and pleasure--her triumphs are by2 ,and the memory of those who loved her and praised ,are alike from the minds of the living erased4 ,the hand of the king who the scepter hath borne1 ,the brow of the priest who the mitre hath worn1 ,the eye of the sage and the heart of the brave ,are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave4 ,the peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap1 ,the herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep1 ,the beggar who wandered in search of his bread ,have faded away like the grass that we tread4 ,the saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven1 ,the sinner who dared to remain unforgiven1 ,the wise and the foolish1 the guilty and just ,have quietly mingled their bones in the dust4 ,so the multitude goes--like the flower and the weed ,that wither away to let others succeed2 ,so the multitude comes--even those we behold1 ,to repeat every tale that has often been told4 ,for we are the same things that our fathers have been1 ,we see the same sights that our fathers have seen2 ,we drink the same stream1 and we feel the same sun1 ,and we run the same course that our fathers have run4 ,the thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think1 ,from the death we are shrinking from1 they too would shrink1 ,to the life we are clinging to1 they too would cling1 ,but it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing4 ,they loved--but their story we cannot enfold1 ,they scorned--but the heart of the haughty is cold1 ,they grieved--but no wail from their slumbers may come1 ,they joy'd--but the voice of their gladness--is dumb4 ,they died1 ay1 they died6 and we things that are now1 ,who walk on the turf that lies over their brow1 ,who make in their dwellings a transient abode ,meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road4 ,yea1 hope and despondence1 and pleasure and pain1 ,are mingled together in sunshine and rain2 ,and the smile1 and the tear1 and the song and the dirge ,still follow each other like surge upon surge4 ',tis the wink of an eye1 'tis the draught of a breath ,from the blossoms of health to the paleness of death2 ,from the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud-- ,oh1 why should the spirit of mortal be proud6 ,william ,knox4 ,how ,he ,saved ,st4 ,michael's ',twas long ago--ere ever the signal gun ,that blazed before ,fort ,sumter had wakened the ,north as one2 ,long ere the wondrous pillar of battle-cloud and fire ,had marked where the unchained millions marched on to their heart's desire4 ,on roofs and glittering turrets1 that night1 as the sun went down1 ,the mellow glow of the twilight shone like a jeweled crown1 ,and1 bathed in the living glory1 as the people lifted their eyes1 ,they saw the pride of the city1 the spire of ,st4 ,michael's rise ,high over the lesser steeples1 tipped with a golden ball ,that hung like a radiant planet caught in its earthward fall2 ,first glimpse of home to the sailor who made the harbor round1 ,and last slow-fading vision dear to the outward bound4 ,the gently gathering shadows shut out the waning light2 ,the children prayed at their bedsides as they were wont each night2 ,the noise of buyer and seller from the busy mart was gone1 ,and in dreams of a peaceful morrow the city slumbered on4 ,but another light than sunrise aroused the sleeping street1 ,for a cry was heard at midnight1 and the rush of trampling feet2 ,men stared in each other's faces1 thro' mingled fire and smoke1 ,while the frantic bells went clashing clamorous1 stroke on stroke4 ,by the glare of her blazing roof-tree the houseless mother fled1 ,with the babe she pressed to her bosom shrieking in nameless dread2 ,while the fire-king's wild battalions scaled wall and cap-stone high1 ,and painted their glaring banners against an inky sky4 ,from the death that raged behind them1 and the crush of ruin loud1 ,to the great square of the city1 were driven the surging crowd1 ,where yet firm in all the tumult1 unscathed by the fiery flood1 ,with its heavenward pointing finger the church of ,st4 ,michael's stood4 ,but e'en as they gazed upon it there rose a sudden wail1 ,a cry of horror blended with the roaring of the gale1 ,on whose scorching wings updriven1 a single flaming brand1 ,aloft on the towering steeple clung like a bloody hand1 ,will it fade8 the whisper trembled from a thousand whitening lips2 ,far out on the lurid harbor they watched it from the ships4 ,a baleful gleam1 that brighter and ever brighter shone1 ,like a flickering1 trembling will-o'-the-wisp to a steady beacon grown4 ,uncounted gold shall be given to the man whose brave right hand1 ,for the love of the periled city1 plucks down yon burning brand6 ,so cried the ,mayor of ,charleston1 that all the people heard1 ,but they looked each one at his fellow1 and no man spoke a word1 ,who is it leans from the belfry1 with face upturned to the sky-- ,clings to a column and measures the dizzy spire with his eye8 ,will he dare it1 the hero undaunted1 that terrible1 sickening height1 ,or will the hot blood of his courage freeze in his veins at the sight8 ,but see6 he has stepped on the railing1 he climbs with his feet and his hands1 ,and firm on a narrow projection1 with the belfry beneath him1 he stands6 ,now once1 and once only1 they cheer him--a single tempestuous breath1 ,and there falls on the multitude gazing a hush like the stillness of death4 ,slow1 steadily mounting1 unheeding aught save the goal of the fire1 ,still higher and higher1 an atom1 he moves on the face of the spire3 ,he stops6 ,will he fall8 ,lo6 for answer1 a gleam like a meteor's track1 ,and1 hurled on the stones of the pavement1 the red brand lies shattered and black6 ,once more the shouts of the people have rent the quivering air2 ,at the church door mayor and council wait with their feet on the stair1 ,and the eager throng behind them press for a touch of his hand-- ,the unknown savior whose daring could compass a deed so grand4 ,but why does a sudden tremor seize on them as they gaze8 ,and what meaneth that stifled murmur of wonder and amaze8 ,he stood in the gate of the temple he had periled his life to save1 ,and the face of the unknown hero was the sable face of a slave6 ,with folded arms he was speaking in tones that were clear1 not loud1 ,and his eyes1 ablaze in their sockets1 burnt into the eyes of the crowd4 ,ye may keep your gold1 ,i scorn it6 but answer me1 ye who can1 ,if the deed ,i have done before you be not the deed of a man8 ,he stepped but a short space backward1 and from all the women and men ,there were only sobs for answer1 and the mayor called for a pen1 ,and the great seal of the city1 that he might read who ran1 ,and the slave who saved ,st4 ,michael's went out from its door a man4 ,mary ,a4,p4 ,stansbury4 ,bingen on the ,rhine ,a soldier of the ,legion lay dying in ,algiers1 ,there was lack of woman's nursing1 there was dearth of woman's tears2 ,but a comrade stood beside him1 while his life-blood ebbed away1 ,and bent1 with pitying glances1 to hear what he might say4 ,the dying soldier faltered1 as he took that comrade's hand1 ,and he said1 ,i never more shall see my own1 my native land2 ,take a message1 and a token1 to some distant friends of mine1 ,for ,i was born at ,bingen--at ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,tell my brothers and companions1 when they meet and crowd around ,to hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard ground1 ,that we fought the battle bravely1 and when the day was done1 ,full many a corpse lay ghastly pale1 beneath the setting sun4 ,and 'midst the dead and dying1 were some grown old in wars1 ,the death-wound on their gallant breasts the last of many scars3 ,but some were young--and suddenly beheld life's morn decline2 ,and one had come from ,bingen--fair ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age1 ,and ,i was aye a truant bird1 that thought his home a cage3 ,for my father was a soldier1 and even as a child ,my heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild2 ,and when he died1 and left us to divide his scanty hoard1 ,i let them take whate'er they would1 but kept my father's sword1 ,and with boyish love ,i hung it where the bright light used to shine1 ,on the cottage-wall at ,bingen--calm ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,tell my sister not to weep for me1 and sob with drooping head1 ,when the troops are marching home again with glad and gallant tread2 ,but to look upon them proudly1 with a calm and steadfast eye1 ,for her brother was a soldier too1 and not afraid to die4 ,and if a comrade seek her love1 ,i ask her in my name ,to listen to him kindly1 without regret or shame2 ,and to hang the old sword in its place 7my father's sword and mine71 ,for the honor of old ,bingen--dear ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,there's another--not a sister2 in the happy days gone by1 ,you'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye2 ,too innocent for coquetry--too fond for idle scorning-- ,oh1 friend6 ,i fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning2 ,tell her the last night of my life 7for ere the moon be risen ,my body will be out of pain--my soul be out of prison71 ,i dreamed ,i stood with her1 and saw the yellow sunlight shine ,on the vine-clad hills of ,bingen--fair ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,i saw the blue ,rhine sweep along--,i heard1 or seemed to hear4 ,the ,german songs we used to sing1 in chorus sweet and clear2 ,and down the pleasant river1 and up the slanting hill1 ,the echoing chorus sounded1 through the evening calm and still2 ,and her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly talk ,down many a path beloved of yore1 and well-remembered walk1 ,and her little hand lay lightly1 confidingly in mine3 ,but we'll meet no more at ,bingen--loved ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,his voice grew faint and hoarser1--his grasp was childish weak1-- ,his eyes put on a dying look1--he sighed and ceased to speak2 ,his comrade bent to lift him1 but the spark of life had fled1-- ,the soldier of the ,legion1 in a foreign land--was dead6 ,and the soft moon rose up slowly1 and calmly she looked down ,on the red sand of the battle-field1 with bloody corpses strown2 ,yea1 calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine ,as it shone on distant ,bingen--fair ,bingen on the ,rhine6 ,caroline ,norton4 ,college ,oil ,cans ,on a board of bright mosaic wrought in many a quaint design1 ,gleam a brace of silver goblets wreathed with flowers and filled with wine4 ,round the board a group is seated2 here and there are threads of white ,which their dark locks lately welcomed2 but they're only boys tonight4 ,some whose words have thrilled the senate1 some who win the critic's praise-- ,all are chums to-night1 with voices redolent of college days4 ,boys1 said one1 do you remember that old joke--about the wine-- ,how we used to fill our oil cans and repair to ',no4 #i'8 ,but at last the old professor--never long was he outdone-- ,opened up our shining oil cans and demolished all our fun6 ,in the laugh that rings so gayly through the richly curtained room1 ,join they all1 save one2 ,why is it8 ,does he see the waxen bloom ,tremble in its vase of silver8 ,does he see the ruddy wine ,shiver in its crystal goblet1 or do those grave eyes divine ,something sadder yet8 ,he pauses till their mirth has died away1 ,then in measured tones speaks gravely3 ,boys1 a story1 if ,i may1 ,i will tell you1 though it may not merit worthily your praise1 ,it is bitter fruitage ripened from our pranks of college days1 ,eagerly they claim the story1 for they know the ,,ll4,d4 ,with his flexible voice would garnish any tale1 whate'er it be4 ,just a year ago to-night1 boys1 ,i was in my room alone1 ,at the ,san ,francisco ,l---- ,house1 when ,i heard a plaintive moan ,sounding from the room adjoining4 ,hoping to give some relief ,to the suffering one1 ,i entered2 but it thrilled my heart with grief ,just to see that wreck of manhood--bloated face1 disheveled hair-- ,wildly tossing1 ever moaning1 while his thin hands beat the air4 ,broken prayers1 vile oaths and curses filled the air as ,i drew near2 ,then in faint and piteous accents1 these words ,i could plainly hear3 ',give me one more chance--one only--let me see my little ,belle-- ,then ,i'll follow where they lead me1 be it to the depths of hell6' ,when he saw me he grew calmer1 started strangely--looked me o'er-- ,oh1 the glory of expression6 ,i had seen those eyes before6 ,yes1 ,i knew him2 it was ,horace1 he who won the college prize2 ,naught remained of his proud beauty but the splendor of his eyes4 ,he whom we were all so proud of1 lay there in the fading light4 ,if my years should number fourscore1 ,i shall ne'er forget that sight4 ,and he knew me--called me ',albert1' ere a single word ,i'd said-- ,we were comrades in the old days2 ,i sat down beside the bed4 ,horace seemed to grow more quiet1 but he would not go to sleep2 ,he kept talking of our boyhood while my hand he still would keep ,in his own so white and wasted1 and with burning eyes would gaze ,on my face1 still talking feebly of the dear old college days4 ',ah1' he said1 'life held such promise2 but1 alas6 ,i am to-day ,but a poor degraded outcast--hopes1 ambition swept away1 ,and it dates back to those oil cans that we filled in greatest glee4 ,little did ,i think in those days what the harvest now would be6' ,for a moment he was silent1 then a cry whose anguish yet ,wrings my heart1 burst from his white lips1 though his teeth were tightly set1 ,and with sudden strength he started--sprang from my detaining arm1 ,shrieking wildly1 ',curse the demons2 do they think to do me harm8 ,back6 ,i say1 ye forked-tongued serpents reeking with the filth of hell6 ,don't ye see ,i have her with me--my poor sainted little ,belle8' ,when ,i'd soothed him into quiet1 with a trembling arm he drew ,my head down1 ',oh1 ,al1' he whispered1 'such remorse you never knew4' ,and again ,i tried to soothe him1 but my eyes o'erbrimmed with tears2 ,his were dry and clear1 as brilliant as they were in college years4 ,all the flush had left his features1 he lay white as marble now2 ,tenderly ,i smoothed his pillow1 wiped the moisture from his brow4 ,though ,i begged him to be quiet1 he would talk of those old days1 ,brokenly at times1 but always of 'the boys' with loving praise4 ,once ,i asked him of ,lorena--the sweet girl whom he had wed-- ,you remember ,rena ,barstow4 ,when ,i asked if she were dead1 ',no1' he said1 his poor voice faltering1 'she is far beyond the ,rhine1 ,but ,i wish1 to ,god1 it were so1 and ,i still might call her mine4 ,she's divorced--she's mine no longer1' here his voice grew weak and hoarse ',but although ,i am a drunkard1 ,i have one they can't divorce4 ,i've a little girl in heaven1 playing round the ,savior's knee1 ,always patient and so faithful that at last she died for me4 ',i had drank so much1 so often1 that my brain was going wild2 ,every one had lost hope in me but my faithful little child4 ,she would say1 ,now stop1 dear papa1 for ,i know you can stop now4 ,i would promise1 kiss my darling1 and the next day break my vow4 ,so it went until one ,christmas1 dark and stormy1 cold and drear2 ,out ,i started1 just as usual1 for the cursed rum shop near1 ,and my darling followed after1 in the storm of rain and sleet1 ,with no covering wrapped about her1 naught but slippers on her feet2 ,no one knew it1 no one missed her1 till there came with solemn tread1 ,stern-faced men unto our dwelling1 bringing back our darling--dead6 ,they had found her cold and lifeless1 like1 they said1 an angel fair1 ,leaning 'gainst the grog shop window--oh1 she thought that ,i was there6 ,then he raised his arms toward heaven1 called aloud unto the dead1 ,for his mind again was wandering3 ',belle1 my precious ,belle6' he said1 ',papa's treasure--papa's darling6 oh1 my baby--did--you--come ,all the way--alone--my darling--just to lead--poor--papa--home8' ,and he surely had an answer1 for a silence o'er him fell4 ,and ,i sat alone and lonely--death had come with little ,belle4 ,silence in that princely parlor--head of every guest is bowed4 ,they still see the red wine sparkle1 but 'tis through a misty cloud4 ,said the host at last1 arising1 ,i have scorned the pledge to sign1 ,laughed at temperance all my life long4 ,never more shall drop of wine ,touch my lips4 ,the fruit was bitter1 boys2 'twas ,i proposed it first-- ,that foul joke from which poor ,horace ever bore a life accurst6 ,let us pledge ourselves to-night1 boys1 never more by word1 or deed1 ,in our own fair homes1 or elsewhere1 help to plant the poison seed4 ,silence once again1 but only for a moment's space1 and then1 ,in one voice they all responded with a low and firm ,amen4 ,will ,victor ,mc,guire4 ,god's ,judgment on a ,wicked ,bishop ,the summer and autumn had been so wet1 ,that in winter the corn was growing yet4 ',twas a piteous sight to see all round ,the grain lie rotting on the ground4 ,every day the starving poor ,crowded round ,bishop ,hatto's door1 ,for he had a plentiful last year's store1 ,and all the neighborhood could tell ,his granaries were furnish'd well4 ,at last ,bishop ,hatto appointed a day ,to quiet the poor without delay2 ,he bade them to his great barn repair1 ,and they should have food for the winter there4 ,rejoiced the tidings good to hear1 ,the poor folk flock'd from far and near2 ,the great barn was full as it could hold ,of women and children1 and young and old4 ,then1 when he saw it could hold no more1 ,bishop ,hatto he made fast the door1 ,and while for mercy on ,christ they call1 ,he set fire to the barn and burnt them all4 ,i' faith1 'tis an excellent bonfire6 quoth he1 ,and the country is greatly obliged to me ,for ridding it1 in these times forlorn1 ,of rats that only consume the corn4 ,so then to his palace returned he1 ,and he sat down to supper merrily1 ,and he slept that night like an innocent man2 ,but ,bishop ,hatto never slept again4 ,in the morning1 as he enter'd the hall ,where his picture hung against the wall1 ,a sweat like death all over him came1 ,for the rats had eaten it out of the frame4 ,as he look'd1 there came a man from his farm1 ,he had a countenance white with alarm3 ,my lord1 ,i open'd your granaries this morn1 ,and the rats had eaten all your corn4 ,another came running presently1 ,and he was pale as pale could be4 ,fly1 my lord bishop1 fly6 quoth he1 ,ten thousand rats are coming this way1 ,the ,lord forgive you for yesterday6 ,i'll go to my tower on the ,rhine1 replied he2 ',tis the safest place in ,germany2 ,the walls are high1 and the shores are steep ,and the stream is strong1 and the water deep4 ,bishop ,hatto fearfully hasten'd away1 ,and he cross'd the ,rhine without delay1 ,and reach'd his tower and barr'd with care ,all the windows1 doors1 and loopholes there4 ,he laid him down and closed his eyes1 ,but soon a scream made him arise2 ,he started1 and saw two eyes of flame ,on his pillow1 from whence the screaming came4 ,he listen'd and look'd1--it was only the cat1 ,but the bishop he grew more fearful for that1 ,for she sat screaming1 mad with fear ,at the army of rats that were drawing near4 ,for they have swum over the river so deep1 ,and they have climb'd the shores so steep1 ,and up the tower their way is bent1 ,to do the work for which they were sent4 ,they are not to be told by the dozen or score2 ,by thousands they come1 and by myriads and more2 ,such numbers had never been heard of before1 ,such a judgment had never been witness'd of yore4 ,down on his knees the bishop fell1 ,and faster and faster his beads did he tell1 ,as louder and louder1 drawing near1 ,the gnawing of their teeth he could hear4 ,and in at the windows and in at the door1 ,and through the walls helter-skelter they pour2 ,and down from the ceiling and up through the floor1 ,from the right and the left1 from behind and before1 ,from within and without1 from above and below1-- ,and all at once to the bishop they go4 ,they have whetted their teeth against the stones1 ,and now they pick the bishop's bones2 ,they gnaw'd the flesh from every limb1 ,for they were sent to do judgment on him6 ,robert ,southey4 ,the ,last ,hymn ,the ,sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea1 ,the uttered benediction touched the people tenderly1 ,and they rose to face the sunset in the glowing1 lighted west1 ,and then hastened to their dwellings for ,god's blessed boon of rest4 ,bat they looked across the waters1 and a storm was raging there2 ,a fierce spirit moved above them--the wild spirit of the air-- ,and it lashed and shook and tore them till they thundered1 groaned and boomed1 ,and1 alas6 for any vessel in their yawning gulfs entombed4 ,very anxious were the people on that rocky coast of ,wales1 ,lest the dawn of coming morrow should be telling awful tales1 ,when the sea had spent its passion and should cast upon the shore ,bits of wreck and swollen victims as it had done heretofore4 ,with the rough winds blowing round her1 a brave woman strained her eyes1 ,as she saw along the billows a large vessel fall and rise4 ,oh1 it did not need a prophet to tell what the end must be1 ,for no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such a sea6 ,then the pitying people hurried from their homes and thronged the beach4 ,oh1 for power to cross the waters and the perishing to reach6 ,helpless hands were wrung in terror1 tender hearts grew cold with dread1 ,and the ship1 urged by the tempest1 to the fatal rock-shore sped4 ,she's parted in the middle6 ,oh1 the half of her goes down6 ,god have mercy6 ,is his heaven far to seek for those who drown8 ,lo6 when next the white1 shocked faces looked with terror on the sea1 ,only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be4 ,nearer to the trembling watchers came the wreck tossed by the wave1 ,and the man still clung and floated1 though no power on earth could save4 ,could we send him a short message8 ,here's a trumpet4 ,shout away6 ',twas the preacher's hand that took it1 and he wondered what to say4 ,any memory of his sermon8 ,firstly8 ,secondly8 ,ah1 no6 ,there was but one thing to utter in that awful hour of woe4 ,so he shouted through the trumpet1 ,look to ,jesus6 ,can you hear8 ,and ,aye1 aye1 sir1 rang the answer o'er the waters loud and clear4 ,then they listened1--,he is singing1 ',jesus1 lover of my soul4' ,and the winds brought back the echo1 ,while the nearer waters roll4 ,strange1 indeed1 it was to hear him1--,till the storm of life is past1 ,singing bravely o'er the waters1 ,oh1 receive my soul at last6 ,he could have no other refuge1--,hangs my helpless soul on thee4 ,leave1 ah6 leave me not--the singer dropped at last into the sea4 ,and the watchers1 looking homeward1 through their eyes by tears made dim1 ,said1 ,he passed to be with ,jesus in the singing of that hymn4 ,marianne ,faringham4 ,a ,fence or an ,ambulance ',twas a dangerous cliff1 as they freely confessed1 ,though to walk near its crest was so pleasant2 ,but over its terrible edge there had slipped ,a duke and full many a peasant4 ,so the people said something would have to be done1 ,but their projects did not at all tally2 ,some said1 ,put a fence around the edge of the cliff1 ,some1 ,an ambulance down in the valley4 ,but the cry for the ambulance carried the day1 ,for it spread through the neighboring city2 ,a fence may be useful or not1 it is true1 ,but each heart became brimful of pity ,for those who slipped over that dangerous cliff2 ,and the dwellers in highway and alley ,gave pounds or gave pence1 not to put up a fence1 ,but an ambulance down in the valley4 ,for the cliff is all right1 if you're careful1 they said1 ,and1 if folks even slip and are dropping1 ,it isn't the slipping that hurts them so much1 ,as the shock down below when they're stopping4 ,so day after day1 as these mishaps occurred1 ,quick forth would these rescuers sally ,to pick up the victims who fell off the cliff1 ,with their ambulance down in the valley4 ,then an old sage remarked3 ,it's a marvel to me ,that people give far more attention ,to repairing results than to stopping the cause1 ,when they'd much better aim at prevention4 ,let us stop at its source all this mischief1 cried he1 ,come1 neighbors and friends1 let us rally1 ,if the cliff we will fence1 we might almost dispense ,with the ambulance down in the valley4 ,oh1 he's a fanatic1 the others rejoined1 ,dispense with the ambulance8 ,never4 ,he'd dispense with all charities1 too1 if he could2 ,no6 ,no6 ,we'll support them forever4 ,aren't we picking up folks just as fast as they fall8 ,and shall this man dictate to us8 ,shall he8 ,why should people of sense stop to put up a fence1 ,while the ambulance works in the valley8 ,but a sensible few1 who are practical too1 ,will not bear with such nonsense much longer2 ,they believe that prevention is better than cure1 ,and their party will soon be the stronger4 ,encourage them then1 with your purse1 voice1 and pen1 ,and while other philanthropists dally1 ,they will scorn all pretense and put up a stout fence ,on the cliff that hangs over the valley4 ,better guide well the young than reclaim them when old1 ,for the voice of true wisdom is calling1 ,to rescue the fallen is good1 but 'tis best ,to prevent other people from falling4 ,better close up the source of temptation and crime1 ,than deliver from dungeon or galley2 ,better put a strong fence 'round the top of the cliff ,than an ambulance down in the valley4 ,joseph ,malins4 ,the ,smack in ,school ,a district school1 not far away1 ',mid ,berkshire hills1 one winter's day1 ,was humming with its wonted noise ,of three-score mingled girls and boys2 ,some few upon their tasks intent1 ,but more on furtive mischief bent4 ,the while the master's downward look ,was fastened on a copy-book2 ,when suddenly1 behind his back1 ,rose sharp and clear a rousing smack6 ,as 'twere a battery of bliss ,let off in one tremendous kiss6 ,what's that8 the startled master cries2 ,that1 thir1 a little imp replies1 ,wath ,william ,willith1 if you pleathe1 ,i thaw him kith ,thuthanna ,peathe6 ,with frown to make a statue thrill1 ,the master thundered1 ,hither1 ,will6 ,like wretch o'ertaken in his track ,with stolen chattels on his back1 ,will hung his head in fear and shame1 ,and to the awful presence came1-- ,a great1 green1 bashful simpleton1 ,the butt of all good-natured fun1 ,with smile suppressed1 and birch upraised ,the threatener faltered1 ,i'm amazed ,that you1 my biggest pupil1 should ,be guilty of an act so rude-- ,before the whole set school to boot-- ,what evil genius put you to 't8 ',twas she1 herself1 sir1 sobbed the lad2 ,i did not mean to be so bad2 ,but when ,susanna shook her curls1 ,and whispered ,i was 'fraid of girls1 ,and dursn't kiss a baby's doll1 ,i couldn't stand it1 sir1 at all1 ,but up and kissed her on the spot6 ,i know--boo-hoo--,i ought to not1 ,but1 somehow1 from her looks--boo-hoo-- ,i thought she kind o' wished me to6 ,william ,pitt ,palmer4 ,a ,woman's ,question ,do you know you have asked for the costliest thing ,ever made by the ,hand above-- ,a woman's heart and a woman's life1 ,and a woman's wonderful love8 ,do you know you have asked for this priceless thing ,as a child might ask for a toy2 ,demanding what others have died to win1 ,with the reckless dash of a boy8 ,you have written my lesson of duty out1 ,man-like you have questioned me-- ,now stand at the bar of my woman's soul1 ,until ,i shall question thee4 ,you require your mutton shall always be hot1 ,your socks and your shirts shall be whole4 ,i require your heart to be true as ,god's stars1 ,and pure as heaven your soul4 ,you require a cook for your mutton and beef2 ,i require a far better thing-- ,a seamstress you're wanting for stockings and shirts-- ,i look for a man and a king4 ,a king for a beautiful realm called home1 ,and a man that the ,maker1 ,god1 ,shall look upon as ,he did the first1 ,and say1 ,it is very good4 ,i am fair and young1 but the rose will fade ,from my soft1 young cheek one day-- ,will you love then1 'mid the falling leaves1 ,as you did 'mid the bloom of ,may8 ,is your heart an ocean so strong and deep ,i may launch my all on its tide8 ,a loving woman finds heaven or hell ,on the day she is made a bride4 ,i require all things that are grand and true1 ,all things that a man should be2 ,if you give this all1 ,i would stake my life ,to be all you demand of me4 ,if you cannot do this1 a laundress and cook ,you can hire with little to pay2 ,but a woman's heart and a woman's life ,are not to be won that way4 ,lena ,lathrop4 ,lasca ,i want free life and ,i want fresh air2 ,and ,i sigh for the canter after the cattle1 ,the crack of the whips like shots in battle1 ,the mellay of horns1 and hoofs1 and heads ,that wars1 and wrangles1 and scatters1 and spreads2 ,the green beneath and the blue above1 ,and dash and danger1 and life and love2 ,and ,lasca6 ,lasca used to ride ,on a mouse-gray mustang1 close to my side1 ,with blue serape and bright-belled spur2 ,i laughed with joy as ,i looked at her6 ,little knew she of books or creeds2 ,an ,ave ,maria sufficed her needs2 ,little she cared1 save to be by my side1 ,to ride with me1 and ever to ride1 ,from ,san ,saba's shore to ,lavaca's tide4 ,she was as bold as the billows that beat1 ,she was as wild as the breezes that blow2 ,from her little head to her little feet ,she was swayed1 in her suppleness1 to and fro ,by each gust of passion2 a sapling pine1 ,that grows on the edge of a ,kansas bluff ,and wars with the wind when the weather is rough1 ,is like this ,lasca1 this love of mine4 ,she would hunger that ,i might eat1 ,would take the bitter and leave me the sweet2 ,but once1 when ,i made her jealous for fun1 ,at something ,i'd whispered1 or looked1 or done1 ,one ,sunday1 in ,san ,antonio1 ,to a glorious girl on the ,alamo1 ,she drew from her girdle a dear little dagger1 ,and--sting of a wasp6--it made me stagger6 ,an inch to the left or an inch to the right1 ,and ,i shouldn't be maundering here to-night2 ,but she sobbed1 and1 sobbing1 so swiftly bound ,her torn rebosa about the wound ,that ,i quite forgave her4 ,scratches don't count ,in ,texas1 down by the ,rio ,grande4 ,her eye was brown1--a deep1 deep brown2 ,her hair was darker than her eye2 ,and something in her smile and frown1 ,curled crimson lip1 and instep high1 ,showed that there ran in each blue vein1 ,mixed with the milder ,aztec strain1 ,the vigorous vintage of old ,spain4 ,she was alive in every limb ,with feeling1 to the finger tips2 ,and when the sun is like a fire1 ,and sky one shining1 soft sapphire1 ,one does not drink in little sips4 ,the air was heavy1 the night was hot1 ,i sat by her side1 and forgot--forgot2 ,forgot the herd that were taking their rest2 ,forgot that the air was close opprest2 ,that the ,texas norther comes sudden and soon1 ,in the dead of night or the blaze of noon2 ,that once let the herd at its breath take fright1 ,that nothing on earth can stop the flight2 ,and woe to the rider1 and woe to the steed1 ,who falls in front of their mad stampede6 ,was that thunder8 ,no1 by the ,lord6 ,i sprang to my saddle without a word1 ,one foot on mine1 and she clung behind4 ,away on a hot chase down the wind6 ,but never was fox-hunt half so hard1 ,and never was steed so little spared1 ,for we rode for our lives4 ,you shall hear how we fared ,in ,texas1 down by the ,rio ,grande4 ,the mustang flew1 and we urged him on2 ,there was one chance left1 and you have but one2 ,halt1 jump to the ground1 and shoot your horse2 ,crouch under his carcass1 and take your chance2 ,and if the steers1 in their frantic course1 ,don't batter you both to pieces at once1 ,you may thank your star2 if not1 good-by ,to the quickening kiss and the long-drawn sigh1 ,and the open air and the open sky1 ,in ,texas1 down by the ,rio ,grande4 ,the cattle gained on us1 and just as ,i felt ,for my old six-shooter1 behind in my belt1 ,down came the mustang1 and down came we1 ,clinging together1 and--what was the rest8 ,a body that spread itself on my breast1 ,two arms that shielded my dizzy head1 ,two lips that hard on my lips were pressed2 ,then came thunder in my ears1 ,as over us surged the sea of steers1 ,blows that beat blood into my eyes1 ,and when ,i could rise1 ,lasca was dead6 ,i gouged out a grave a few feet deep1 ,and there in ,earth's arms ,i laid her to sleep6 ,and there she is lying1 and no one knows1 ,and the summer shines and the winter snows2 ,for many a day the flowers have spread ,a pall of petals over her head2 ,and the little gray hawk hangs aloft in the air1 ,and the sly coyote trots here and there1 ,and the black snake glides1 and glitters1 and slides ,into the rift in a cotton-wood tree2 ,and the buzzard sails on1 ,and comes and is gone1 ,stately and still like a ship at sea2 ,and ,i wonder why ,i do not care ,for the things that are like the things that were4 ,does half my heart lie buried there ,in ,texas1 down by the ,rio ,grande8 ,frank ,desprez4 ,over the ,hill to the ,poor-,house ,over the hill to the poor-house ,i'm trudgin' my weary way-- ,i1 a woman of seventy1 and only a trifle gray-- ,i1 who am smart an' chipper1 for all the years ,i've told1 ,as many another woman that's only half as old4 ,over the hill to the poor-house--,i can't quite make it clear6 ,over the hill to the poor-house-it seems so horrid queer6 ,many a step ,i've taken a-toiling to and fro1 ,but this is a sort of journey ,i never thought to go4 ,what is the use of heapin' on me a pauper's shame8 ,am ,i lazy or crazy8 ,am ,i blind or lame8 ,true1 ,i am not so supple1 nor yet so awful stout2 ,but charity ain't no favor1 if one can live without4 ,i am willin' and anxious an' ready any day ,to work for a decent livin'1 an' pay my honest way2 ,for ,i can earn my victuals1 an' more too1 ,i'll be bound1 ,if anybody only is willin' to have me round4 ,once ,i was young an' han'some--,i was upon my soul-- ,once my cheeks was roses1 my eyes as black as coal2 ,and ,i can't remember1 in them days1 of hearin' people say1 ,for any kind of a reason1 that ,i was in their way4 ',tain't no use of boastin'1 or talkin' over-free1 ,but many a house an' home was open then to me2 ,many a han'some offer ,i had from likely men1 ,and nobody ever hinted that ,i was a burden then4 ,and when to ,john ,i was married1 sure he was good and smart1 ,but he and all the neighbors would own ,i done my part2 ,for life was all before me1 an' ,i was young an' strong1 ,and ,i worked the best that ,i could in tryin' to get along4 ,and so we worked together3 and life was hard1 but gay1 ,with now and then a baby for to cheer us on our way2 ,till we had half a dozen1 an' all growed clean an' neat1 ,an' went to school like others1 an' had enough to eat4 ,so we worked for the childr'n1 and raised 'em every one1 ,worked for 'em summer and winter just as we ought to've done2 ,only1 perhaps1 we humored 'em1 which some good folks condemn-- ,but every couple's childr'n's a heap the best to them4 ,strange how much we think of our blessed little ones6 ,i'd have died for my daughters1 ,i'd have died for my sons2 ,and ,god he made that rule of love2 but when we're old and gray1 ,i've noticed it sometimes1 somehow1 fails to work the other way4 ,strange1 another thing3 when our boys an' girls was grown1 ,and when1 exceptin' ,charley1 they'd left us there alone2 ,when ,john he nearer an' nearer come1 an' dearer seemed to be1 ,the ,lord of ,hosts he come one day1 an' took him away from me4 ,still ,i was bound to struggle1 an' never to cringe or fall-- ,still ,i worked for ,charley1 for ,charley was now my all2 ,and ,charley was pretty good to me1 with scarce a word or frown1 ,till at last he went a-courtin'1 and brought a wife from town4 ,she was somewhat dressy1 an' hadn't a pleasant smile-- ,she was quite conceity1 and carried a heap o' style2 ,but if ever ,i tried to be friends1 ,i did with her1 ,i know2 ,but she was hard and proud1 an' ,i couldn't make it go4 ,she had an edication1 an' that was good for her2 ,but when she twitted me on mine1 'twas carryin' things too fur2 ,an' ,i told her once1 'fore company 7an' it almost made her sick71 ,that ,i never swallowed a grammar1 or eat a 'rithmetic4 ,so 'twas only a few days before the thing was done-- ,they was a family of themselves1 and ,i another one2 ,and a very little cottage one family will do1 ,but ,i never have seen a house that was big enough for two4 ,an' ,i never could speak to suit her1 never could please her eye1 ,an' it made me independent1 an' then ,i didn't try2 ,but ,i was terribly staggered1 an' felt it like a blow1 ,when ,charley turn'd agin me1 an' told me ,i could go4 ,i went to live with ,susan1 but ,susan's house was small1 ,and she was always a-hintin' how snug it was for us all2 ,and what with her husband's sisters1 and what with childr'n three1 ',twas easy to discover that there wasn't room for me4 ,an' then ,i went to ,thomas1 the oldest son ,i've got1 ,for ,thomas's buildings'd cover the half of an acre lot2 ,but all the childr'n was on me--,i couldn't stand their sauce-- ,and ,thomas said ,i needn't think ,i was comin' there to boss4 ,an' then ,i wrote ,rebecca1 my girl who lives out ,west1 ,and to ,isaac1 not far from her--some twenty miles1 at best2 ,and one of 'em said 'twas too warm there for any one so old1 ,and t'other had an opinion the climate was too cold4 ,so they have shirked and slighted me1 an' shifted me about-- ,so they have well-nigh soured me1 an' wore my old heart out2 ,but still ,i've borne up pretty well1 an' wasn't much put down1 ,till ,charley went to the poor-master1 an' put me on the town4 ,over the hill to the poor-house--my childr'n dear1 good-by6 ,many a night ,i've watched you when only ,god was nigh2 ,and ,god'll judge between us2 but ,i will always pray ,that you shall never suffer the half ,i do to-day4 ,will ,carleton4 ,the ,american ,flag ,when ,freedom from her mountain height ,unfurled her standard to the air1 ,she tore the azure robe of night1 ,and set the stars of glory there4 ,she mingled with its gorgeous dyes ,the milky baldric of the skies1 ,and striped its pure celestial white ,with streakings of the morning light2 ,then from his mansion in the sun ,she called her eagle bearer down1 ,and gave into his mighty hand ,the symbol of her chosen land4 ,majestic monarch of the cloud1 ,who rear'st aloft thy regal form1 ,to hear the tempest trumpings loud ,and see the lightning lances driven1 ,when strive the warriors of the storm1 ,and rolls the thunder-drum of heaven1 ,child of the sun6 to thee 'tis given ,to guard the banner of the free1 ,to hover in the sulphur smoke1 ,to ward away the battle stroke1 ,and bid its blendings shine afar1 ,like rainbows on the cloud of ,war1 ,the harbingers of victory6 ,flag of the brave6 thy folds shall fly1 ,the sign of hope and triumph high1 ,when speaks the signal trumpet tone1 ,and the long line comes gleaming on4 ,ere yet the lifeblood1 warm and wet1 ,has dimmed the glistening bayonet1 ,each soldier eye shall brightly turn ,to where thy sky-born glories burn1 ,and1 as his springing steps advance1 ,catch war and vengeance from the glance4 ,and when the cannon-mouthings loud ,heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud1 ,and gory sabres rise and fall ,like shoots of flame on midnight's pall1 ,then shall thy meteor glances glow1 ,and cowering foes shall shrink beneath ,each gallant arm that strikes below ,that lovely messenger of death4 ,flag of the seas6 on ocean wave ,thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave2 ,when death1 careering on the gale1 ,sweeps darkly 'round the bellied sail1 ,and frighted waves rush wildly back ,before the broadside's reeling rack1 ,each dying wanderer of the sea ,shall look at once to heaven and thee1 ,and smile to see thy splendors fly ,in triumph o'er his closing eye4 ,flag of the free heart's hope and home6 ,by angel hands to valor given2 ,thy stars have lit the welkin dome1 ,and all thy hues were born in heaven4 ,forever float that standard sheet6 ,where breathes the foe but falls before us1 ,with ,freedom's soil beneath our feet1 ,and ,freedom's banner streaming o'er us8 ,joseph ,rodman ,drake4 ,golden ,keys ,a bunch of golden keys is mine ,to make each day with gladness shine4 ,good morning6 that's the golden key ,that unlocks every door for me4 ,when evening comes1 ,good night6 ,i say1 ,and close the door of each glad day4 ,when at the table ,if you please ,i take from off my bunch of keys4 ,when friends give anything to me1 ,i'll use the little ,thank you key4 ,excuse me1 ,beg your pardon1 too1 ,when by mistake some harm ,i do4 ,or if unkindly harm ,i've given1 ,with ,forgive me key ,i'll be forgiven4 ,on a golden ring these keys ,i'll bind1 ,this is its motto3 ,be ye kind4 ,i'll often use each golden key1 ,and so a happy child ,i'll be4 ,the ,four-leaf ,clover ,i know a place where the sun is like gold1 ,and the cherry blooms burst like snow2 ,and down underneath is the loveliest nook1 ,where the four-leaf clovers grow4 ,one leaf is for faith1 and one is for hope1 ,and one is for love1 you know2 ,and ,god put another one in for luck-- ,if you search1 you will find where they grow4 ,but you must have faith and you must have hope1 ,you must love and be strong1 and so ,if you work1 if you wait1 you will find the place ,where the four-leaf clovers grow4 ,ella ,higginson4 ,telling the ,bees ,,note3 ,a remarkable custom1 brought from the ,old ,country1 formerly prevailed in the rural districts of ,new ,england4 ,on the death of a member of the family1 the bees were at once informed of the event1 and their hives dressed in mourning4 ,this ceremonial was supposed to be necessary to prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a new home4 ,here is the place2 right over the hill ,runs the path ,i took2 ,you can see the gap in the old wall still4 ,and the stepping-stones in the shallow brook4 ,there is the house1 with the gate red-barred1 ,and the poplars tall2 ,and the barn's brown length1 and the cattle-yard1 ,and the white horns tossing above the wall4 ,there are the beehives ranged in the sun2 ,and down by the brink ,of the brook are her poor flowers1 weed-o'errun1 ,pansy and daffodil1 rose and pink4 ,a year has gone1 as the tortoise goes1 ,heavy and slow2 ,and the same rose blows1 and the same sun glows1 ,and the same brook sings of a year ago4 ,there's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze2 ,and the ,june sun warm ,tangles his wings of fire in the trees1 ,setting1 as then1 over ,fernside farm4 ,i mind me how with a lover's care ,from my ,sunday coat ,i brushed off the burs1 and smoothed my hair1 ,and cooled at the brookside my brow and throat4 ,since we parted1 a month had passed1-- ,to love1 a year2 ,down through the beeches ,i looked at last ,on the little red gate and the well-sweep near4 ,i can see it all now1--the slantwise rain ,of light through the leaves1 ,the sundown's blaze on her window-pane1 ,the bloom of her roses under the eaves4 ,just the same as a month before1-- ,the house and the trees1 ,the barn's brown gable1 the vine by the door1-- ,nothing changed but the hives of bees4 ,before them1 under the garden wall1 ,forward and back1 ,went drearily singing the chore-girl small1 ,draping each hive with a shred of black4 ,trembling1 ,i listened2 the summer sun ,had the chill of snow2 ,for ,i knew she was telling the bees of one ,gone on the journey we all must go6 ,then ,i said to myself1 ,my ,mary weeps ,for the dead to-day3 ,haply her blind grandsire sleeps ,the fret and pain of his age away4 ,but her dog whined low2 on the doorway sill1 ,with his cane to his chin1 ,the old man sat2 and the chore-girl still ,sung to the bees stealing out and in4 ,and the song she was singing ever since ,in my ear sounds on3-- ,stay at home1 pretty bees1 fly not hence6 ,mistress ,mary is dead and gone6 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,not ,understood ,not understood1 we move along asunder1 ,our paths grow wider as the seasons creep ,along the years4 ,we marvel and we wonder1 ,why life is life1 and then we fall asleep1 ,not understood4 ,not understood1 we gather false impressions1 ,and hug them closer as the years go by1 ,till virtues often seem to us transgressions2 ,and thus men rise and fall and live and die1 ,not understood4 ,not understood1 poor souls with stunted visions ,often measure giants by their narrow gauge2 ,the poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision ,are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age1 ,not understood4 ,not understood1 the secret springs of action ,which lie beneath the surface and the show ,are disregarded2 with self-satisfaction ,we judge our neighbors1 and they often go ,not understood4 ,not understood1 how trifles often change us-- ,the thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight-- ,destroy long years of friendship and estrange us1 ,and on our souls there falls a freezing blight-- ,not understood4 ,not understood1 how many hearts are aching ,for lack of sympathy6 ,ah6 day by day ,how many cheerless1 lonely hearts are breaking1 ,how many noble spirits pass away ,not understood4 ,o ,god6 that men would see a little clearer1 ,or judge less hardly when they cannot see6 ,o ,god6 that men would draw a little nearer ,to one another6 ,they'd be nearer ,thee1 ,and understood4 ,somebody's ,mother ,the woman was old1 and ragged1 and gray1 ,and bent with the chill of a winter's day2 ,the streets were white with a recent snow1 ,and the woman's feet with age were slow4 ,at the crowded crossing she waited long1 ,jostled aside by the careless throng ,of human beings who passed her by1 ,unheeding the glance of her anxious eye4 ,down the street with laughter and shout1 ,glad in the freedom of school let out1 ,come happy boys1 like a flock of sheep1 ,hailing the snow piled white and deep2 ,past the woman1 so old and gray1 ,hastened the children on their way4 ,none offered a helping hand to her1 ,so weak and timid1 afraid to stir1 ,lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet ,should trample her down in the slippery street4 ,at last came out of the merry troop ,the gayest boy of all the group2 ,he paused beside her1 and whispered low1 ,i'll help you across1 if you wish to go4 ,her aged hand on his strong young arm ,she placed1 and so without hurt or harm1 ,he guided the trembling feet along1 ,proud that his own were young and strong2 ,then back again to his friends he went1 ,his young heart happy and well content4 ,she's somebody's mother1 boys1 you know1 ,for all she's aged1 and poor1 and slow2 ,and some one1 some time1 may lend a hand ,to help my mother--you understand8-- ,if ever she's poor1 and old1 and gray1 ,and her own dear boy is far away4 ,somebody's mother bowed low her head1 ,in her home that 'night1 and the prayer she said ,was3 ,god1 be kind to that noble boy1 ,who is somebody's son1 and pride and joy4 ,faint was the voice1 and worn and weak1 ,but the ,father hears when ,his children speak2 ,angels caught the faltering word1 ,and ,somebody's ,mother's prayer was heard4 ,to a ,waterfowl ,whither1 midst falling dew1 ,while glow the heavens with the last steps of day1 ,far1 through their rosy depths1 dost thou pursue ,thy solitary way8 ,vainly the fowler's eye ,might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong1 ,as1 darkly seen against the crimson sky1 ,thy figure floats along4 ,seek'st thou the plashy brink ,of weedy lake1 or marge of river wide1 ,or where the rocking billows rise and sink ,on the chafed ocean-side8 ,there is a ,power whose care ,teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- ,the desert and illimitable air-- ,lone wandering1 but not lost4 ,all day thy wings have fanned1 ,at that far height1 the cold1 thin atmosphere2 ,yet stoop not1 weary1 to the welcome land1 ,though the dark night is near4 ,and soon that toil shall end2 ,soon shalt thou find a summer home1 and rest1 ,and scream among thy fellows2 reeds shall bend1 ,soon1 o'er thy sheltered nest4 ,thou'rt gone1 the abyss of heaven ,hath swallowed up thy form2 yet1 on my heart ,deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given1 ,and shall not soon depart4 ,he who1 from zone to zone1 ,guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight1 ,in the long way that ,i must tread alone1 ,will lead my steps aright4 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,my ,mother ,who fed me from her gentle breast ,and hushed me in her arms to rest1 ,and on my cheek sweet kisses prest8 ,my mother4 ,when sleep forsook my open eye1 ,who was it sung sweet lullaby ,and rocked me that ,i should not cry8 ,my mother4 ,who sat and watched my infant head ,when sleeping in my cradle bed1 ,and tears of sweet affection shed8 ,my mother4 ,when pain and sickness made me cry1 ,who gazed upon my heavy eye1 ,and wept1 for fear that ,i should die8 ,my mother4 ,who ran to help me when ,i fell ,and would some pretty story tell1 ,or kiss the part to make it well8 ,my mother4 ,who taught my infant lips to pray1 ,to love ,god's holy word and day1 ,and walk in wisdom's pleasant way8 ,my mother4 ,and can ,i ever cease to be ,affectionate and kind to thee ,who wast so very kind to me1-- ,my mother4 ,oh1 no1 the thought ,i cannot bear2 ,and if ,god please my life to spare ,i hope ,i shall reward thy care1 ,my mother4 ,when thou art feeble1 old and gray1 ,my healthy arms shall be thy stay1 ,and ,i will soothe thy pains away1 ,my mother4 ,and when ,i see thee hang thy head1 ',twill be my turn to watch thy bed1 ,and tears of sweet affection shed1-- ,my mother4 ,the ,walrus and the ,carpenter ,the sun was shining on the sea1 ,shining with all his might3 ,he did his very best to make ,the billows smooth and bright-- ,and this was odd1 because it was ,the middle of the night4 ,the moon was shining sulkily1 ,because she thought the sun ,had got no business to be there ,after the day was done-- ,it's very rude of him1 she said1 ,to come and spoil the fun6 ,the sea was wet as wet could be1 ,the sands were dry as dry4 ,you could not see a cloud1 because ,no cloud was in the sky3 ,no birds were flying overhead-- ,there were no birds to fly4 ,the ,walrus and the ,carpenter ,were walking close at hand3 ,they wept like anything to see ,such quantities of sand3 ,if this were only cleared away1 ,they said1 it would be grand6 ,if seven maids with seven mops ,swept it for half a year1 ,do you suppose1 the ,walrus said1 ,that they could get it clear8 ,i doubt it1 said the ,carpenter1 ,and shed a bitter tear4 ,o ,oysters1 come and walk with us6 ,the ,walrus did beseech4 ,a pleasant walk1 a pleasant talk1 ,along the briny beach3 ,we cannot do with more than four1 ,to give a hand to each4 ,the eldest ,oyster looked at him1 ,but never a word he said3 ,the eldest ,oyster winked his eye1 ,and shook his heavy head-- ,meaning to say he did not choose ,to leave the oyster-bed4 ,but four young ,oysters hurried up1 ,all eager for the treat3 ,their coats were brushed1 their faces washed1 ,their shoes were clean and neat-- ,and this was odd1 because1 you know1 ,they hadn't any feet4 ,four other ,oysters followed them1 ,and yet another four2 ,and thick and fast they came at last1 ,and more1 and more1 and more-- ,all hopping through the frothy waves1 ,and scrambling to the shore4 ,the ,walrus and the ,carpenter ,walked on a mile or so1 ,and then they rested on a rock ,conveniently low3 ,and all the little ,oysters stood ,and waited in a row4 ,the time has come1 the ,walrus said1 ,to talk of many things3 ,of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- ,of cabbages and kings-- ,and why the sea is boiling hot-- ,and whether pigs have wings4 ,but wait a bit1 the ,oysters cried1 ,before we have our chat2 ,for some of us are out of breath1 ,and all of us are fat6 ,no hurry6 said the ,carpenter4 ,they thanked him much for that4 ,a loaf of bread1 the ,walrus said1 ,is what we chiefly need3 ,pepper and vinegar besides ,are very good indeed-- ,now1 if you're ready1 ,oysters dear1 ,we can begin to feed4 ,but not on us6 the ,oysters cried1 ,turning a little blue4 ,after such kindness1 that would be ,a dismal thing to do6 ,the night is fine1 the ,walrus said1 ,do you admire the view8 ,it was so kind of you to come6 ,and you are very nice6 ,the ,carpenter said nothing but ,cut us another slice4 ,i wish you were not quite so deaf-- ,i've had to ask you twice6 ,it seems a shame1 the ,walrus said1 ,to play them such a trick4 ,after we've brought them out so far1 ,and made them trot so quick6 ,the ,carpenter said nothing but ,the butter's spread too thick6 ,i weep for you1 the ,walrus said2 ,i deeply sympathize4 ,with sobs and tears he sorted out ,those of the largest size1 ,holding his pocket-handkerchief ,before his streaming eyes4 ,o ,oysters1 said the ,carpenter1 ,you've had a pleasant run6 ,shall we be trotting home again8 ,but answer came there none-- ,and this was scarcely odd1 because ,they'd eaten every one4 ,lewis ,carroll4 ,the ,teacher's ,dream ,the weary teacher sat alone ,while twilight gathered on3 ,and not a sound was heard around1-- ,the boys and girls were gone4 ,the weary teacher sat alone2 ,unnerved and pale was he2 ,bowed 'neath a yoke of care1 he spoke ,in sad soliloquy3 ,another round1 another round ,of labor thrown away1 ,another chain of toil and pain ,dragged through a tedious day4 ,of no avail is constant zeal1 ,love's sacrifice is lost4 ,the hopes of morn1 so golden1 turn1 ,each evening1 into dross4 ,i squander on a barren field ,my strength1 my life1 my all3 ,the seeds ,i sow will never grow1-- ,they perish where they fall4 ,he sighed1 and low upon his hands ,his aching brow he pressed2 ,and o'er his frame ere long there came ,a soothing sense of rest4 ,and then he lifted up his face1 ,but started back aghast1-- ,the room1 by strange and sudden change1 ,assumed proportions vast4 ,it seemed a ,senate-hall1 and one ,addressed a listening throng2 ,each burning word all bosoms stirred1 ,applause rose loud and long4 ,the 'wildered teacher thought he knew ,the speaker's voice and look1 ,and for his name1 said he1 the same ,is in my record book4 ,the stately ,senate-hall dissolved1 ,a church rose in its place1 ,wherein there stood a man of ,god1 ,dispensing words of grace4 ,and though he spoke in solemn tone1 ,and though his hair was gray1 ,the teacher's thought was strangely wrought-- ,i whipped that boy to-day4 ,the church1 a phantom1 vanished soon2 ,what saw the teacher then8 ,in classic gloom of alcoved room ,an author plied his pen4 ,my idlest lad6 the teacher said1 ,filled with a new surprise2 ,shall ,i behold his name enrolled ,among the great and wise8 ,the vision of a cottage home ,the teacher now descried2 ,a mother's face illumed the place ,her influence sanctified4 ,a miracle6 a miracle6 ,this matron1 well ,i know1 ,was but a wild and careless child1 ,not half an hour ago4 ,and when she to her children speaks ,of duty's golden rule1 ,her lips repeat in accents sweet1 ,my words to her at school4 ,the scene was changed again1 and lo6 ,the schoolhouse rude and old2 ,upon the wall did darkness fall1 ,the evening air was cold4 ,a dream6 the sleeper1 waking1 said1 ,then paced along the floor1 ,and1 whistling slow and soft and low1 ,he locked the schoolhouse door4 ,and1 walking home1 his heart was full ,of peace and trust and praise2 ,and singing slow and soft and low1 ,said1 ,after many days4 ,w4,h4 ,venable4 ,a ,legend of ,bregenz ,girt round with rugged mountains1 the fair ,lake ,constance lies2 ,in her blue heart reflected shine back the starry skies2 ,and watching each white cloudlet float silently and slow1 ,you think a piece of heaven lies on our earth below6 ,midnight is there3 and silence1 enthroned in heaven1 looks down ,upon her own calm mirror1 upon a sleeping town3 ,for ,bregenz1 that quaint city upon the ,tyrol shore1 ,has stood above ,lake ,constance a thousand years and more4 ,her battlement and towers1 from off their rocky steep1 ,have cast their trembling shadow for ages on the deep2 ,mountain1 and lake1 and valley1 a sacred legend know1 ,of how the town was saved1 one night three hundred years ago4 ,far from her home and kindred1 a ,tyrol maid had fled1 ,to serve in the ,swiss valleys1 and toil for daily bread2 ,and every year that fleeted so silently and fast1 ,seemed to bear farther from her the memory of the past4 ,she served kind1 gentle masters1 nor asked for rest or change2 ,her friends seemed no more new ones1 their speech seemed no more strange2 ,and when she led her cattle to pasture every day1 ,she ceased to look and wonder on which side ,bregenz lay4 ,she spoke no more of ,bregenz1 with longing and with tears2 ,her ,tyrol home seemed faded in a deep mist of years2 ,she heeded not the rumors of ,austrian war and strife2 ,each day she rose1 contented1 to the calm toils of life4 ,yet when her master's children would clustering round her stand1 ,she sang them ancient ballads of her own native land2 ,and when at morn and evening she knelt before ,god's throne1 ,the accents of her childhood rose to her lips alone4 ,and so she dwelt3 the valley more peaceful year by year2 ,when suddenly strange portents of some great deed seemed near4 ,the golden corn was bending upon its fragile stock1 ,while farmers1 heedless of their fields1 paced up and down in talk4 ,the men seemed stern and altered1 with looks cast on the ground2 ,with anxious faces1 one by one1 the women gathered round2 ,all talk of flax1 or spinning1 or work1 was put away2 ,the very children seemed afraid to go alone to play4 ,one day1 out in the meadow with strangers from the town1 ,some secret plan discussing1 the men walked up and down1 ,yet now and then seemed watching a strange uncertain1 gleam1 ,that looked like lances 'mid the trees that stood below the stream4 ,at eve they all assembled1 then care and doubt were fled2 ,with jovial laugh they feasted2 the board was nobly spread4 ,the elder of the village rose up1 his glass in hand1 ,and cried1 ,we drink the downfall of an accursed land6 ,the night is growing darker1--ere one more day is flown1 ,bregenz1 our foeman's stronghold1 ,bregenz shall be our own6 ,the women shrank in terror1 7yet ,pride1 too1 had her part17 ,but one poor ,tyrol maiden felt death within her heart4 ,before her stood fair ,bregenz1 once more her towers arose2 ,what were the friends beside her8 ,only her country's foes6 ,the faces of her kinsfolk1 the days of childhood flown1 ,the echoes of her mountains1 reclaimed her as their own6 ,nothing she heard around her1 7though shouts rang forth again17 ,gone were the green ,swiss valleys1 the pasture1 and the plain2 ,before her eyes one vision1 and in her heart one cry1 ,that said1 ,go forth1 save ,bregenz1 and then1 if need be1 die6 ,with trembling haste and breathless1 with noiseless step1 she sped2 ,horses and weary cattle were standing in the shed2 ,she loosed the strong white charger1 that fed from out her hand1 ,she mounted1 and she turned his head towards her native land4 ,out--out into the darkness--faster1 and still more fast2 ,the smooth grass flies behind her1 the chestnut wood is past2 ,she looks up2 clouds are heavy3 ,why is her steed so slow8-- ,scarcely the wind beside them can pass them as they go4 ,faster6 she cries4 ,oh1 faster6 ,eleven the church-bells chime2 ,o ,god1 she cries1 help ,bregenz1 and bring me there in time6 ,but louder than bells' ringing1 or lowing of the kine1 ,grows nearer in the midnight the rushing of the ,rhine4 ,shall not the roaring waters their headlong gallop check8 ,the steed draws back in terror1 she leans upon his neck ,to watch the flowing darkness1--the bank is high and steep2 ,one pause--he staggers forward1 and plunges in the deep4 ,she strives to pierce the blackness1 and looser throws the rein2 ,her steed must breast the waters that dash above his mane4 ,how gallantly1 how nobly1 he struggles through the foam1 ,and see--in the far distance shine out the lights of home6 ,up the steep bank he bears her1 and now they rush again ,toward the heights of ,bregenz1 that tower above the plain4 ,they reach the gate of ,bregenz1 just as the midnight rings1 ,and out come serf and soldier to meet the news she brings4 ,bregenz is saved6 ,ere daylight her battlements are manned2 ,defiance greets the army that marches on the land4 ,and if to deeds heroic should endless fame be paid1 ,bregenz does well to honor the noble ,tyrol maid4 ,three hundred years are vanished1 and yet upon the hill ,an old stone gateway rises1 to do her honor still4 ,and there1 when ,bregenz women sit spinning in the shade1 ,they see in quaint old carving the charger and the maid4 ,and when1 to guard old ,bregenz1 by gateway1 street1 and tower1 ,the warder paces all night long1 and calls each passing hour3 ,nine1 ten1 eleven1 he cries aloud1 and then 7,o crown of fame67 ,when midnight pauses in the skies he calls the maiden's name6 ,adelaide ,a4 ,procter4 ,better ,than ,gold ,better than grandeur1 better than gold1 ,than rank and title a thousand fold1 ,is a healthy body1 a mind at ease1 ,and simple pleasures that always please2 ,a heart that can feel for a neighbor's woe ,and share his joys with a genial glow1-- ,with sympathies large enough to enfold ,all men as brothers1--is better than gold4 ,better than gold is a conscience clear1 ,though toiling for bread in an humble sphere3 ,doubly blest with content and health1 ,untried by the lusts or cares of wealth4 ,lowly living and lofty thought ,adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot2 ,for mind and morals1 in ,nature's plan1 ,are the genuine test of a gentleman4 ,better than gold is the sweet repose ,of the sons of toil when their labors close2 ,better than gold is the poor man's sleep1 ,and the balm that drops on his slumbers deep4 ,bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed1 ,where luxury pillows his aching head2 ,his simple opiate labor deems ,a shorter road to the land of dreams4 ,better than gold is a thinking mind ,that in the realm of books can find ,a treasure surpassing ,australian ore1 ,and live with the great and good of yore4 ,the sage's lore and the poet's lay1 ,the glories of empires pass'd away1 ,the world's great drama will thus unfold ,and yield a pleasure better than gold4 ,better than gold is a peaceful home1 ,where all the fireside charities come2-- ,the shrine of love and the heaven of life1 ,hallowed by mother1 or sister1 or wife4 ,however humble the home may be1 ,or tried with sorrow by ,heaven's decree1 ,the blessings that never were bought or sold1 ,and center there1 are better than gold4 ,alexander ,smart4 ,october's ,bright ,blue ,weather ,o suns and skies and clouds of ,june1 ,and flowers of ,june together1 ,ye cannot rival for one hour ,october's bright blue weather2 ,when loud the bumblebee makes haste1 ,belated1 thriftless vagrant1 ,and goldenrod is dying fast1 ,and lanes with grapes are fragrant2 ,when gentians roll their fringes tight ,to save them for the morning1 ,and chestnuts fall from satin burrs ,without a sound of warning2 ,when on the ground red apples lie ,in piles like jewels shining1 ,and redder still on old stone walls ,are leaves of woodbine twining2 ,when all the lovely wayside things ,their white-winged seeds are sowing1 ,and in the fields1 still green and fair1 ,late aftermaths are growing2 ,when springs run low1 and on the brooks1 ,in idle1 golden freighting1 ,bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush ,of woods1 for winter waiting2 ,when comrades seek sweet country haunts1 ,by twos and threes together1 ,and count like misers hour by hour1 ,october's bright blue weather4 ,o suns and skies and flowers of ,june1 ,count all your boasts together1 ,love loveth best of all the year ,october's bright blue weather4 ,helen ,hunt ,jackson4 ,brier-,rose ,said ,brier-,rose's mother to the naughty ,brier-,rose3 ,what will become of you1 my child1 the ,lord ,almighty knows4 ,you will not scrub the kettles1 and you will not touch the broom2 ,you never sit a minute still at spinning-wheel or loom4 ,thus grumbled in the morning1 and grumbled late at eve1 ,the good-wife as she bustled with pot and tray and sieve2 ,but ,brier-,rose1 she laughed and she cocked her dainty head3 ,why1 ,i shall marry1 mother dear1 full merrily she said4 ,you marry2 saucy ,brier-,rose6 ,the man1 he is not found ,to marry such a worthless wench1 these seven leagues around4 ,but ,brier-,rose1 she laughed and she trilled a merry lay3 ,perhaps he'll come1 my mother dear1 from eight leagues away4 ,the good-wife with a humph and a sigh forsook the battle1 ,and flung her pots and pails about with much vindictive rattle2 ,o ,lord1 what sin did ,i commit in youthful days1 and wild1 ,that thou hast punished me in age with such a wayward child8 ,up stole the girl on tiptoe1 so that none her step could hear1 ,and laughing pressed an airy kiss behind the good-wife's ear4 ,and she1 as e'er relenting1 sighed3 ,oh1 ,heaven only knows ,whatever will become of you1 my naughty ,brier-,rose6 ,the sun was high and summer sounds were teeming in the air2 ,the clank of scythes1 the cricket's whir1 and swelling woodnotes rare1 ,from fields and copse and meadow2 and through the open door ,sweet1 fragrant whiffs of new-mown hay the idle breezes bore4 ,then ,brier-,rose grew pensive1 like a bird of thoughtful mien1 ,whose little life has problems among the branches green4 ,she heard the river brawling where the tide was swift and strong1 ,she heard the summer singing its strange1 alluring song4 ,and out she skipped the meadows o'er and gazed into the sky2 ,her heart o'erbrimmed with gladness1 she scarce herself knew why1 ,and to a merry tune she hummed1 ,oh1 ,heaven only knows ,whatever will become of the naughty ,brier-,rose6 ,whene'er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied1 ,she shook her head in warning1 and scarce her wrath could hide2 ,for girls were made for housewives1 for spinning-wheel and loom1 ,and not to drink the sunshine and wild flower's sweet perfume4 ,and oft the maidens cried1 when the ,brier-,rose went by1 ,you cannot knit a stocking1 and you cannot make a pie4 ,but ,brier-,rose1 as was her wont1 she cocked her curly head3 ,but ,i can sing a pretty song1 full merrily she said4 ,and oft the young lads shouted1 when they saw the maid at play3 ,ho1 good-for-nothing ,brier-,rose1 how do you do to-day8 ,then she shook her tiny fist2 to her cheeks the color flew3 ,however much you coax me1 ,i'll never dance with you4 99 99 99 99 99 ,thus flew the years light winged over ,brier-,rose's head1 ,till she was twenty summers old and yet remained unwed4 ,and all the parish wondered3 ,the ,lord ,almighty knows ,whatever will become of that naughty ,brier-,rose6 ,and while they wondered came the spring a-dancing o'er the hills2 ,her breath was warmer than of yore1 and all the mountain rills1 ,with their tinkling and their rippling and their rushing1 filled the air1 ,and the misty sounds of water forth-welling everywhere4 ,and in the valley's depth1 like a lusty beast of prey1 ,the river leaped and roared aloud and tossed its mane of spray2 ,then hushed again its voice to a softly plashing croon1 ,as dark it rolled beneath the sun and white beneath the moon4 ,it was a merry sight to see the lumber as it whirled ,adown the tawny eddies that hissed and seethed and swirled1 ,now shooting through the rapids and1 with a reeling swing1 ,into the foam-crests diving like an animated thing4 ,but in the narrows of the rocks1 where o'er a steep incline ,the waters plunged1 and wreathed in foam the dark boughs of the pine1 ,the lads kept watch with shout and song1 and sent each straggling beam ,a-spinning down the rapids1 lest it should lock the stream4 99 99 99 99 99 ,and yet--methinks ,i hear it now--wild voices in the night1 ,a rush of feet1 a dog's harsh bark1 a torch's flaring light1 ,and wandering gusts of dampness1 and round us far and nigh1 ,a throbbing boom of water like a pulse-beat in the sky4 ,the dawn just pierced the pallid east with spears of gold and red4 ,as we1 with boat-hooks in our hands1 toward the narrows sped4 ,and terror smote us2 for we heard the mighty tree-tops sway1 ,and thunder1 as of chariots1 and hissing showers of spray4 ,now1 lads1 the sheriff shouted1 you are strong1 like ,norway's rock3 ,a hundred crowns ,i give to him who breaks the lumber lock6 ,for if another hour go by1 the angry waters' spoil ,our homes will be1 and fields1 and our weary years of toil4 ,we looked each at the other2 each hoped his neighbor would ,brave death and danger for his home1 as valiant ,norsemen should4 ,but at our feet the brawling tide expanded like a lake1 ,and whirling beams came shooting on1 and made the firm rock quake4 ,two hundred crowns6 the sheriff cried1 and breathless stood the crowd4 ,two hundred crowns1 my bonny lads6 in anxious tones and loud4 ,but not a man came forward1 and no one spoke or stirred1 ,and nothing save the thunder of the cataract was heard4 ,but as with trembling hands and with fainting hearts we stood1 ,we spied a little curly head emerging from the wood4 ,we heard a little snatch of a merry little song1 ,and saw the dainty ,brier-,rose come dancing through the throng4 ,an angry murmur rose from the people round about4 ,fling her into the river1 we heard the matrons shout2 ,chase her away1 the silly thing2 for ,god himself scarce knows ,why ever he created that worthless ,brier-,rose4 ,sweet ,brier-,rose1 she heard their cries2 a little pensive smile ,across her fair face flitted that might a stone beguile2 ,and then she gave her pretty head a roguish little cock3 ,hand me a boat-hook1 lads1 she said2 ,i think ,i'll break the lock4 ,derisive shouts of laughter broke from throats of young and old3 ,ho6 good-for-nothing ,brier-,rose1 your tongue was ever bold4 ,and1 mockingly1 a boat-hook into her hands was flung1 ,when1 lo6 into the river's midst with daring leaps she sprung6 ,we saw her dimly through a mist of dense and blinding spray2 ,from beam to beam she skipped1 like a water-sprite at play4 ,and now and then faint gleams we caught of color through the mist3 ,a crimson waist1 a golden head1 a little dainty wrist4 ,in terror pressed the people to the margin of the hill1 ,a hundred breaths were bated1 a hundred hearts stood still4 ,for1 hark6 from out the rapids came a strange and creaking sound1 ,and then a crash of thunder which shook the very ground4 ,the waters hurled the lumber mass down o'er the rocky steep4 ,we heard a muffled rumbling and a rolling in the deep2 ,we saw a tiny form which the torrent swiftly bore ,and flung into the wild abyss1 where it was seen no more4 ,ah1 little naughty ,brier-,rose1 thou couldst not weave nor spin2 ,yet thou couldst do a nobler deed than all thy mocking kin2 ,for thou hadst courage e'en to die1 and by thy death to save ,a thousand farms and lives from the fury of the wave4 ,and yet the adage lives1 in the valley of thy birth1 ,when wayward children spend their days in heedless play and mirth1 ,oft mothers say1 half smiling1 half sighing1 ,heaven knows ,whatever will become of the naughty ,brier-,rose6 ,hjalmar ,hjorth ,boyesen4 ,king ,robert of ,sicily ,robert of ,sicily1 brother of ,pope ,urbane ,and ,valmond1 ,emperor of ,allemaine1 ,appareled in magnificent attire ,with retinue of many a knight and squire1 ,on ,st4 ,john's eve1 at vespers1 proudly sat ,and heard the priests chant the ,magnificat4 ,and as he listened1 o'er and o'er again ,repeated1 like a burden or refrain1 ,he caught the words1 ,deposuit potentes ,de sede1 et exaltavit humiles2 ,and slowly lifting up his kingly head1 ,he to a learned clerk beside him said1 ,what mean those words8 ,the clerk made answer meet1 ,he has put down the mighty from their seat1 ,and has exalted them of low degree4 ,thereat ,king ,robert muttered scornfully1 ',tis well that such seditious words are sung ,only by priests1 and in the ,latin tongue2 ,for unto priests1 and people be it known1 ,there is no power can push me from my throne1 ,and leaning back he yawned and fell asleep1 ,lulled by the chant monotonous and deep4 ,when he awoke1 it was already night2 ,the church was empty1 and there was no light1 ,save where the lamps1 that glimmered few and faint1 ,lighted a little space before some saint4 ,he started from his seat and gazed around1 ,but saw no living thing and heard no sound4 ,he groped towards the door1 but it was locked2 ,he cried aloud1 and listened1 and then knocked1 ,and uttered awful threatenings and complaints1 ,and imprecations upon men and saints4 ,the sounds re-echoed from the roof and walls ,as if dead priests were laughing in their stalls4 ,at length the sexton1 hearing from without ,the tumult of the knocking and the shout1 ,and thinking thieves were in the house of prayer1 ,came with his lantern1 asking ,who is there8 ,half choked with rage1 ,king ,robert fiercely said1 ,open2 'tis ,i1 the king6 ,art thou afraid8 ,the frightened sexton1 muttering with a curse1 ,this is some drunken vagabond1 or worse6 ,turned the great key and flung the portal wide2 ,a man rushed by him at a single stride1 ,haggard1 half-naked1 without hat or cloak1 ,who neither turned1 nor looked at him1 nor spoke1 ,but leaped into the blackness of the night1 ,and vanished like a spectre from his sight4 ,robert of ,sicily1 brother of ,pope ,urbane ,and ,valmond1 ,emperor of ,allemaine1 ,despoiled of his magnificent attire1 ,bare-headed1 breathless1 and besprent with mire1 ,with sense of wrong and outrage desperate1 ,strode on and thundered at the palace gate2 ,rushed through the court-yard1 thrusting in his rage ,to right and left each seneschal and page1 ,and hurried up the broad and sounding stair1 ,his white face ghastly in the torches' glare4 ,from hall to hall he passed with breathless speed2 ,voices and cries he heard1 but did not heed1 ,until at last he reached the banquet-room1 ,blazing with light1 and breathing with perfume4 ,there on the dais sat another king1 ,wearing his robes1 his crown1 his signet ring-- ,king ,robert's self in features1 form1 and height1 ,but all transfigured with angelic light6 ,it was an angel2 and his presence there ,with a divine effulgence filled the air1 ,an exaltation1 piercing the disguise1 ,though none the hidden angel recognize4 ,a moment speechless1 motionless1 amazed1 ,the throneless monarch on the angel gazed1 ,who met his look of anger and surprise ,with the divine compassion of his eyes6 ,then said1 ,who art thou1 and why com'st thou here8 ,to which ,king ,robert answered with a sneer1 ,i am the king1 and come to claim my own ,from an impostor1 who usurps my throne6 ,and suddenly1 at these audacious words1 ,up sprang the angry guests1 and drew their swords2 ,the angel answered with unruffled brow1 ,nay1 not the king1 but the king's jester2 thou ,henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape ,and for thy counselor shalt lead an ape2 ,thou shalt obey my servants when they call1 ,and wait upon my henchmen in the hall6 ,deaf to ,king ,robert's threats and cries and prayers1 ,they thrust him from the hall and down the stairs2 ,a group of tittering pages ran before1 ,and as they opened wide the folding door1 ,his heart failed1 for he heard1 with strange alarms1 ,the boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms1 ,and all the vaulted chamber roar and ring ,with the mock plaudits of ,long live the king6 ,next morning1 waking with the day's first beam1 ,he said within himself1 ,it was a dream6 ,but the straw rustled as he turned his head1 ,there were the cap and bells beside his bed2 ,around him rose the bare1 discolored walls1 ,close by1 the steeds were champing in their stalls1 ,and in the corner1 a revolting shape1 ,shivering and chattering1 sat the wretched ape4 ,it was no dream2 the world he loved so much ,had turned to dust and ashes at his touch6 ,days came and went2 and now returned again ,to ,sicily the old ,saturnian reign2 ,under the angel's governance benign ,the happy island danced with corn and wine1 ,and deep within the mountain's burning breast ,enceladus1 the giant1 was at rest4 ,meanwhile ,king ,robert yielded to his fate1 ,sullen and silent and disconsolate4 ,dressed in the motley garb that jesters wear1 ,with look bewildered1 and a vacant stare1 ,close shaven above the ears1 as monks are shorn1 ,by courtiers mocked1 by pages laughed to scorn1 ,his only friend the ape1 his only food ,what others left--he still was unsubdued4 ,and when the angel met him on his way1 ,and half in earnest1 half in jest1 would say1 ,sternly1 though tenderly1 that he might feel ,the velvet scabbard held a sword of steel1 ,art thou the king8 the passion of his woe ,burst from him in resistless overflow4 ,and lifting high his forehead1 he would fling ,the haughty answer back1 ,i am1 ,i am the king6 ,almost three years were ended1 when there came ,ambassadors of great repute and name ,from ,valmond1 ,emperor of ,allemaine1 ,unto ,king ,robert1 saying that ,pope ,urbane ,by letter summoned them forthwith to come ,on ,holy ,thursday to his ,city of ,rome4 ,the angel with great joy received his guests1 ,and gave them presents of embroidered vests1 ,and velvet mantles with rich ermine lined1 ,and rings and jewels of the rarest kind4 ,then he departed with them o'er the sea ,into the lovely land of ,italy1 ,whose loveliness was more resplendent made ,by the mere passing of that cavalcade ,with plumes1 and cloaks1 and housings1 and the stir ,of jeweled bridle and of golden spur4 ,and lo6 among the menials1 in mock state1 ,upon a piebald steed1 with shambling gait1 ,his cloak of foxtails flapping in the wind1 ,the solemn ape demurely perched behind1 ,king ,robert rode1 making huge merriment ,in all the country towns through which they went4 ,the ,pope received them with great pomp1 and blare ,of bannered trumpets1 on ,st4 ,peter's ,square1 ,giving his benediction and embrace1 ,fervent1 and full of apostolic grace4 ,while with congratulations and with prayers ,he entertained the angel unawares1 ,robert1 the jester1 bursting through the crowd1 ,into their presence rushed1 and cried aloud3 ,i am the king6 ,look and behold in me ,robert1 your brother1 ,king of ,sicily6 ,this man1 who wears my semblance to your eyes1 ,is an impostor in a king's disguise4 ,do you not know me8 ,does no voice within ,answer my cry1 and say we are akin8 ,the ,pope in silence1 but with troubled mien1 ,gazed at the angel's countenance serene2 ,the ,emperor1 laughing1 said1 ,it is strange sport ,to keep a mad man for thy fool at court6 ,and the poor1 baffled jester1 in disgrace ,was hustled back among the populace4 ,in solemn state the holy week went by1 ,and ,easter ,sunday gleamed upon the sky2 ,the presence of the angel1 with its light1 ,before the sun rose1 made the city bright1 ,and with new fervor filled the hearts of men1 ,who felt that ,christ indeed had risen again4 ,even the jester1 on his bed of straw1 ,with haggard eyes the unwonted splendor saw2 ,he felt within a power unfelt before1 ,and kneeling humbly on his chamber floor1 ,he heard the rustling garments of the ,lord ,sweep through the silent air1 ascending heavenward4 ,and now the visit ending1 and once more ,valmond returning to the ,danube's shore1 ,homeward the angel journeyed1 and again ,the land was made resplendent with his train1 ,flashing along the towns of ,italy ,unto ,salerno1 and from thence by sea4 ,and when once more within ,palermo's wall1 ,and1 seated on the throne in his great hall1 ,he heard the ,angelus from convent towers1 ,as if the better world conversed with ours1 ,he beckoned to ,king ,robert to draw nigher1 ,and with a gesture bade the rest retire4 ,and when they were alone1 the angel said1 ,art thou the king8 ,then1 bowing down his head1 ,king ,robert crossed both hands upon his breast1 ,and meekly answered him1 ,thou knowest best6 ,my sins as scarlet are2 let me go hence1 ,and in some cloister's school of penitence1 ,across those stones that pave the way to heaven ,walk barefoot till my guilty soul be shriven6 ,the angel smiled1 and from his radiant face ,a holy light illumined all the place1 ,and through the open window1 loud and clear1 ,they heard the monks chant in the chapel near1 ,above the stir and tumult of the street1 ,he has put down the mighty from their seat1 ,and has exalted them of low degree6 ,and through the chant a second melody ,rose like the throbbing of a single string3 ,i am an angel1 and thou art the king6 ,king ,robert1 who was standing near the throne1 ,lifted his eyes1 and lo6 he was alone6 ,but all appareled as in days of old1 ,with ermined mantle and with cloth of gold2 ,and when his courtiers came they found him there1 ,kneeling upon the floor1 absorbed in silent prayer4 ,h4,w4 ,longfellow4 ,the ,huskers ,it was late in mild ,october1 and the long autumnal rain ,had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again2 ,the first sharp frosts had fallen1 leaving all the woodlands gay ,with the hues of summer's rainbow1 or the meadow-flowers of ,may4 ,through a thin1 dry mist1 that morning1 the sun rose broad and red1 ,at first a rayless disk of fire1 he brightened as he sped2 ,yet1 even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued1 ,on the cornfields and the orchards1 and softly pictured wood4 ,and all that quiet afternoon1 slow sloping to the night1 ,he wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light2 ,slanting through the painted beeches1 he glorified the hill2 ,and beneath it1 pond and meadow lay brighter1 greener still4 ,and shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky1 ,flecked by the many-tinted leaves1 and laughed1 they knew not why2 ,and schoolgirls1 gay with aster-flowers1 beside the meadow brooks1 ,mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks4 ,from spire and ball looked westerly the patient weathercock1 ,but even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks4 ,no sound was in the woodlands1 save the squirrel's dropping shell1 ,and the yellow leaves among the boughs1 low rustling as they fell4 ,the summer grains were harvested2 the stubble-fields lay dry1 ,where ,june winds rolled1 in light and shade1 the pale green waves of rye2 ,but still1 on gentle hill-slopes1 in valleys fringed with wood1 ,ungathered1 bleaching in the sun1 the heavy corn crop stood4 ,bent low1 by autumn's wind and rain1 through husks that1 dry and sere1 ,unfolded by their ripened charge1 shone out the yellow ear2 ,beneath1 the turnip lay concealed1 in many a verdant fold1 ,and glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold4 ,there wrought the busy harvesters2 and many a creaking wain ,bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain2 ,till broad and red1 as when he rose1 the sun sank down1 at last1 ,and like a merry guest's farewell1 the day in brightness passed4 ,and lo6 as through the western pines on meadow1 stream1 and pond1 ,flamed the red radiance of a sky1 set all afire beyond1 ,slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone1 ,and the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one6 ,as thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away1 ,and deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay2 ,from many a brown old farm-house1 and hamlet without name1 ,their milking and their home-tasks done1 the merry huskers came4 ,swung o'er the heaped-up harvest1 from pitchforks in the mow1 ,shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below2 ,the growing pile of husks behind1 the golden ears before1 ,and laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er4 ,half hidden in a quiet nook1 serene of look and heart1 ,talking their old times over1 the old men sat apart2 ,while1 up and down the unhusked pile1 or nestling in its shade1 ,at hide-and-seek1 with laugh and shout1 the happy children played4 ,urged by the good host's daughter1 a maiden young and fair1 ,lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair1 ,the master of the village school1 sleek of hair and smooth of tongue1 ,to the quaint tune of some old psalm1 a husking-ballad sung4 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,darius ,green and ,his ,flying ,machine ,if ever there lived a ,yankee lad1 ,wise or otherwise1 good or bad1 ,who1 seeing the birds fly1 didn't jump ,with flapping arms from stake or stump1 ,or1 spreading the tail ,of his coat for a sail1 ,take a soaring leap from post or rail1 ,and wonder why ,he couldn't fly1 ,and flap and flutter and wish and try-- ,if ever you knew a country dunce ,who didn't try that as often as once1 ,all ,i can say is1 that's a sign ,he never would do for a hero of mine4 ,an aspiring genius was ,d4 ,green3 ,the son of a farmer1--age fourteen2 ,his body was long and lank and lean1-- ,just right for flying1 as will be seen2 ,he had two eyes1 each bright as a bean1 ,and a freckled nose that grew between1 ,a little awry1--for ,i must mention ,that he had riveted his attention ,upon his wonderful invention1 ,twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings1 ,working his face as he worked the wings1 ,and with every turn of gimlet and screw ,turning and screwing his mouth round1 too1 ,till his nose seemed bent ,to catch the scent1 ,around some corner1 of new-baked pies1 ,and his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes ,grew puckered into a queer grimace1 ,that made him look very droll in the face1 ,and also very wise4 ,and wise he must have been1 to do more ,than ever a genius did before1 ,excepting ,daedalus of yore ,and his son ,icarus1 who wore ,upon their backs ,those wings of wax ,he had read of in the old almanacs4 ,darius was clearly of the opinion ,that the air is also man's dominion1 ,and that1 with paddle or fin or pinion1 ,we soon or late ,shall navigate ,the azure as now we sail the sea4 ,the thing looks simple enough to me2 ,and if you doubt it1 ,hear how ,darius reasoned about it4 ,birds can fly1 ,an' why can't ,i8 ,must we give in1 ,says he with a grin1 ',t the bluebird an' phoebe ,are smarter'n we be8 ,jest fold our hands an' see the swaller1 ,an' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler8 ,does the leetle1 chatterin'1 sassy wren1 ,no bigger'n my thumb1 know more than men8 ,jest show me that6 ,er prove 't the bat ,has got more brains than's in my hat1 ,an' ,i'll back down1 an' not till then6 ,he argued further3 ,ner ,i can't see ,what's ta' use o' wings to a bumblebee1 ,fer to git a livin' with1 more'n to me2-- ,ain't my business ,important's his'n is8 ,that ,icarus ,was a silly cuss1-- ,him an' his daddy ,daedalus4 ,they might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax ,wouldn't stan' sun-heat an' hard whacks4 ,i'll make mine o' luther1 ,er suthin' er other4 ,and he said to himself1 as he tinkered and planned3 ,but ,i ain't goin' to show my hand ,to mummies that never can understand ,the fust idee that's big an' grand4 ,they'd 'a' laft an' made fun ,o' ,creation itself afore't was done6 ,so he kept his secret from all the rest ,safely buttoned within his vest2 ,and in the loft above the shed ,himself he locks1 with thimble and thread ,and wax and hammer and buckles and screws1 ,and all such things as geniuses use2-- ,two bats for patterns1 curious fellows6 ,a charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows2 ,an old hoop-skirt or two1 as well as ,some wire and several old umbrellas2 ,a carriage-cover1 for tail and wings2 ,a piece of harness2 and straps and strings2 ,and a big strong boxs ,in which he locks ,these and a hundred other things4 ,his grinning brothers1 ,reuben and ,burke ,and ,nathan and ,jotham and ,solomon1 lurk ,around the corner to see him work1-- ,sitting cross-legged1 like a ,turk1 ,drawing the waxed end through with a jerk1 ,and boring the holes with a comical quirk ,of his wise old head1 and a knowing smirk4 ,but vainly they mounted each other's backs1 ,and poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks2 ,with wood from the pile and straw from the stacks ,he plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks2 ,and a bucket of water1 which one would think ,he had brought up into the loft to drink ,when he chanced to be dry1 ,stood always nigh1 ,for ,darius was sly6 ,and whenever at work he happened to spy ,at chink or crevice a blinking eye1 ,he let a dipper of water fly4 ,take that6 an' ef ever ye get a peep1 ,guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep6 ,and he sings as he locks ,his big strong box3-- ,the weasel's head is small an' trim1 ,an' he is leetle an' long an' slim1 ,an' quick of motion an' nimble of limb1 ,an' ef yeou'll be ,advised by me ,keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him6 ,so day after day ,he stitched and tinkered and hammered away1 ,till at last 'twas done1-- ,the greatest invention under the sun6 ,an' now1 says ,darius1 hooray fer some fun6 ',twas the ,fourth of ,july1 ,and the weather was dry1 ,and not a cloud was on all the sky1 ,save a few light fleeces1 which here and there1 ,half mist1 half air1 ,like foam on the ocean went floating by3 ,just as lovely a morning as ever was seen ,for a nice little trip in a flying-machine4 ,thought cunning ,darius3 ,now ,i sha'n't go ,along 'ith the fellers to see the show4 ,i'll say ,i've got sich a terrible cough6 ,an' then1 when the folks 'ave all gone off ,i'll hev full swing ,for to try the thing1 ,an' practyse a leetle on the wing4 ,ain't goin' to see the celebration8 ,says ,brother ,nate4 ,no2 botheration6 ,i've got sich a cold--a toothache--,i-- ,my gracious6--feel's though ,i should fly6 ,said ,jotham1 ,sho6 ,guess ye better go4 ,but ,darius said1 ,no6 ,shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me1 though1 ',long 'bout noon1 ef ,i git red ,o' this jumpin'1 thumpin' pain 'n my head4 ,for all the while to himself he said3-- ,i'll tell ye what6 ,i'll fly a few times around the lot1 ,to see how 't seems1 then soon's ,i've got ,the hang o' the thing1 ez likely's not1 ,i'll astonish the nation1 ,and all creation1 ,by flyin' over the celebration6 ,over their heads ,i'll sail like an eagle2 ,i'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull2 ,i'll dance on the chimbleys2 ,i'll stan' on the steeple2 ,i'll flop up to winders an' scare the people6 ,i'll light on the libbe'ty-pole1 an' crow2 ,an' ,i'll say to the gawpin' fools below1 ',what world's this 'ere ,that ,i've come near8' ,fer ,i'll make 'em believe ,i'm a chap f'm the moon6 ,an' ,i'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon4 ,he crept from his bed2 ,and1 seeing the others were gone1 he said1 ,i'm a-gittin' over the cold 'n my head4 ,and away he sped1 ,to open the wonderful box in the shed4 ,his brothers had walked but a little way ,when ,jotham to ,nathan chanced to say1 ,what on airth is he up to1 hey8 ,don'o1--the' 's suthin' er other to pay1 ,er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day4 ,says ,burke1 ,his toothache's all 'n his eye6 ,he never'd miss a ,fo'th-o'-,july1 ,ef he hedn't some machine to try4 ,le's hurry back and hide in the barn1 ,an' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn6 ,agreed6 ,through the orchard they creep back1 ,along by the fences1 behind the stack1 ,and one by one1 through a hole in the wall1 ,in under the dusty barn they crawl1 ,dressed in their ,sunday garments all2 ,and a very astonishing sight was that1 ,when each in his cobwebbed coat and hat ,came up through the floor like an ancient rat4 ,and there they hid2 ,and ,reuben slid ,the fastenings back1 and the door undid4 ,keep dark6 said he1 ,while ,i squint an' see what the' is to see4 ,as knights of old put on their mail1-- ,from head to foot ,an iron suit1 ,iron jacket and iron boot1 ,iron breeches1 and on the head ,no hat1 but an iron pot instead1 ,and under the chin the bail1-- ,i believe they called the thing a helm2 ,and the lid they carried they called a shield2 ,and1 thus accoutred1 they took the field1 ,sallying forth to overwhelm ,the dragons and pagans that plagued the realm3-- ,so this modern knight ,prepared for flight1 ,put on his wings and strapped them tight2 ,jointed and jaunty1 strong and light2 ,buckled them fast to shoulder and hip1-- ,ten feet they measured from tip to tip6 ,and a helm had he1 but that he wore1 ,not on his head like those of yore1 ,but more like the helm of a ship4 ,hush6 ,reuben said1 ,he's up in the shed6 ,he's opened the winder1--,i see his head6 ,he stretches it out1 ,an' pokes it about1 ,lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear1 ,an' nobody near2-- ,guess he don'o' who's hid in here6 ,he's riggin' a spring-board over the sill6 ,stop laffin'1 ,solomon6 ,burke1 keep still6 ,he's a climbin' out now--of all the things6 ,what's he got on8 ,i van1 it's wings6 ,an' that t'other thing8 ,i vum1 it's a tail6 ,an' there he sets like a hawk on a rail6 ,steppin' careful1 he travels the length ,of his spring-board1 and teeters to try its strength4 ,now he stretches his wings1 like a monstrous bat2 ,peeks over his shoulder1 this way an' that1 ,fer to see 'f the' 's anyone passin' by2 ,but the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh4 ,they turn up at him a wonderin' eye1 ,to see--,the dragon6 he's goin' to fly6 ,away he goes6 ,jimmmy6 what a jump6 ,flop-flop-an' plump ,to the ground with a thump6 ,flutt'rin an' flound'rin'1 all in a lump6 ,as a demon is hurled by an angel's spear1 ,heels over head1 to his proper sphere1-- ,heels over head1 and head over heels1 ,dizzily down the abyss he wheels1-- ,so fell ,darius4 ,upon his crown1 ,in the midst of the barnyard1 he came down1 ,in a wonderful whirl of tangled strings1 ,broken braces and broken springs1 ,broken tail and broken wings1 ,shooting-stars1 and various things6 ,away with a bellow fled the calf1 ,and what was that8 ,did the gosling laugh8 ',tis a merry roar ,from the old barn-door1 ,and he hears the voice of ,jotham crying1 ,say1 ,d'rius6 how de yeou like flyin'8 ,slowly1 ruefully1 where he lay1 ,darius just turned and looked that way1 ,as he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff4 ,wall1 ,i like flyin' well enough1 ,he said2 but the' ain't sich a thunder-in' sight ,o' fun in 't when ye come to light4 ,,moral ,i just have room for the moral here3 ,and this is the moral1--,stick to your sphere4 ,or if you insist1 as you have the right1 ,on spreading your wings for a loftier flight1 ,the moral is1--,take care how you light4 ,john ,t4 ,trowbridge4 ,song of the ,shirt ,with fingers weary and worn1 ,with eyelids heavy and red1 ,a woman sat1 in unwomanly rags1 ,plying her needle and thread-- ,stitch6 stitch6 stitch6 ,in poverty1 hunger and dirt1 ,and still with a voice of dolorous pitch ,she sang the ,song of the ,shirt6 ,work6 work6 work6 ,while the cock is crowing aloof6 ,and work--work--work1 ,till the stars shine through the roof6 ,it's oh6 to be a slave ,along with the barbarous ,turk1 ,where a woman has never a soul to save1 ,if this is ,christian work6 ,work--work--work1 ,till the brain begins to swim2 ,work--work--work1 ,till the eyes are heavy and dim6 ,seam1 and gusset1 and band1 ,band1 and gusset1 and seam1 ,till over the buttons ,i fall asleep1 ,and sew them on in a dream6 ,o men1 with sisters dear6 ,o men1 with mothers and wives6 ,it is not linen you're wearing out1 ,but human creatures' lives6 ,stitch--stitch--stitch6 ,in poverty1 hunger1 and dirt1-- ,sewing at once1 with a double thread1 ,a shroud as well as a shirt6 ,but why do ,i talk of ,death1-- ,that phantom of grisly bone8 ,i hardly fear his terrible shape1 ,it seems so like my own1-- ,it seems so like my own1 ,because of the fasts ,i keep2 ,o ,god6 that bread should be so dear1 ,and flesh and blood so cheap6 ,work6 work6 work6 ,my labor never flags2 ,and what are its wages8 ,a bed of straw1 ,a crust of bread--and rags1 ,that shattered roof--this naked floor-- ,a table--a broken chair-- ,and a wall so blank1 my shadow ,i thank ,for sometimes falling there6 ,work--work--work6 ,from weary chime to chime6 ,work--work--work ,as prisoners work for crime6 ,band1 and gusset1 and seam1 ,seam1 and gusset1 and band1-- ,till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed1 ,as well as the weary hand4 ,work--work--work6 ,in the dull ,december light6 ,and ,work--work--work6 ,when the weather is warm1 and bright6 ,while underneath the eaves ,the brooding swallows cling1 ,as if to show me their sunny backs1 ,and twit me with the spring4 ,oh1 but to breathe the breath ,of the cowslip and primrose sweet1-- ,with the sky above my head1 ,and the grass beneath my feet6 ,for only one short hour ,to feel as ,i used to feel1 ,before ,i knew the woes of want ,and the walk that costs a meal6 ,oh1 but for one short hour1-- ,a respite1 however brief6 ,no blessed leisure for love or hope1 ,but only time for grief6 ,a little weeping would ease my heart2 ,but in their briny bed ,my tears must stop1 for every drop ,hinders needle and thread6 ,with fingers weary and worn1 ,with eyelids heavy and red1 ,a woman sat1 in unwomanly rags1 ,plying her needle and thread1-- ,stitch6 stitch6 stitch6 ,in poverty1 hunger and dirt2 ,and still with a voice of dolorous pitch-- ,would that its tone could reach the rich6-- ,she sang this ,song of the ,shirt4 ,thomas ,hood4 ,christmas ,everywhere ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas to-night6 ,christmas in lands of the fir-tree and pine1 ,christmas in lands of the palm-tree and vine1 ,christmas where snow-peaks stand solemn and white1 ,christmas where corn-fields lie sunny and bright1 ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas to-night6 ,christmas where children are hopeful and gay1 ,christmas where old men are patient and gray1 ,christmas where peace1 like a dove in its flight1 ,broods o'er brave men in the thick of the fight2 ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas tonight6 ,for the ,christ-child who comes is the ,master of all1 ,no palace too great and no cottage too small1 ,the angels who welcome ,him sing from the height3 ,in the city of ,david1 a ,king in his might4 ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas tonight6 ,then let every heart keep its ,christmas within1 ,christ's pity for sorrow1 ,christ's hatred of sin1 ,christ's care for the weakest1 ,christ's courage for right1 ,christ's dread of the darkness1 ,christ's love of the light4 ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas tonight6 ,so the stars of the midnight which compass us round ,shall see a strange glory1 and hear a sweet sound1 ,and cry1 ,look6 the earth is aflame with delight1 ,o sons of the morning1 rejoice at the sight4 ,everywhere1 everywhere1 ,christmas tonight6 ,philllips ,brooks4 ,the ,cloud ,i bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers1 ,from the seas and the streams2 ,i bear light shade for the leaves when laid ,in their noon-day dreams4 ,from my wings are shaken the dews that waken ,the sweet buds every one1 ,when rocked to rest on their mother's breast1 ,as she dances about the sun4 ,i wield the flail of the lashing hail1 ,and whiten the green plains under1 ,and then again ,i dissolve it in rain1 ,and laugh as ,i pass in thunder4 ,i sift the snow on the mountains below1 ,and their great pines groan aghast2 ,and all the night 'tis my pillow white1 ,while ,i sleep in the arms of the blast4 ,sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers1 ,lightning my pilot sits1 ,in a cavern under is fettered the thunder1 ,it struggles and howls at fits2 ,over earth and ocean1 with gentle motion1 ,this pilot is guiding me1 ,lured by the love of the genii that move ,in the depths of the purple sea2 ,over the rills1 and the crags1 and the hills1 ,over the lakes and the plains1 ,wherever he dream1 under mountain or stream1 ,the ,spirit he loves remains2 ,and ,i all the while bask in heaven's blue smile1 ,whilst he is dissolving in rains4 ,the sanguine sunrise1 with his meteor eyes1 ,and his burning plumes outspread1 ,leaps on the back of my sailing rack1 ,when the morning star shines dead2 ,as on the jag of a mountain crag1 ,which an earthquake rocks and swings1 ,an eagle alit one moment may sit ,in the light of its golden wings4 ,and when sunset may breathe1 from the lit sea beneath1 ,its ardors of rest and of love1 ,and the crimson pall of eve may fall ,from the depth of heaven above1 ,with wings folded ,i rest1 on mine airy nest1 ,as still as a brooding dove4 ,that orbed maiden1 with white fire laden1 ,whom mortals call the moon1 ,glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor1 ,by the midnight breezes strewn2 ,and wherever the beat of her unseen feet1 ,which only the angels hear1 ,may have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof1 ,the stars peep behind her and peer2 ,and ,i laugh to see them whirl and flee1 ,like a swarm of golden bees1 ,when ,i widen the rent in my windbuilt tent1 ,till the calm rivers1 lakes1 and seas1 ,like strips of the sky fallen thro' me on high1 ,are each paved with the moon and these4 ,i bind the sun's throne with a burning zone1 ,and the moon's with a girdle of pearl2 ,the volcanoes are dim1 and the stars reel and swim1 ,when the whirlwinds my banner unfurl4 ,from cape to cape1 with a bridge-like shape1 ,over a torrent sea1 ,sunbeam-proof1 ,i hang like a roof1 ,the mountains its columns be4 ,the triumphal arch thro' which ,i march1 ,with hurricane1 fire1 and snow1 ,when the powers of the air are chained to my chair1 ,is the million-colored bow2 ,the sphere-fire above its soft colors wove1 ,whilst the moist earth was laughing below4 ,i am the daughter of earth and water1 ,and the nursling of the sky2 ,i pass thro' the pores of the ocean and shores2 ,i change1 but ,i cannot die4 ,for after the rain1 when1 with never a stain ,the pavilion of heaven is bare1 ,and the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams ,build up the blue dome of air1 ,i silently laugh at my own cenotaph1 ,and out of the caverns of rain1 ,like a child from the womb1 like a ghost from the tomb1 ,i arise and unbuild it again1 ,percy ,bysshe ,shelley4 ,to a ,skylark ,hail to thee1 blithe spirit6 ,bird thou never wert1 ,that from heaven1 or near it1 ,pourest thy full heart ,in profuse strains of unpremeditated art4 ,higher still and higher ,from the earth thou springest ,like a cloud of fire2 ,the blue deep thou wingest1 ,and singing still dost soar1 and soaring ever singest4 ,in the golden lightning of the sunken sun1 ,o'er which clouds are bright'ning1 ,thou dost float and run1 ,like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun4 ,the pale purple even ,melts around thy flight2 ,like a star of heaven1 ,in the broad daylight ,thou art unseen1 but yet ,i hear thy shrill delight3 ,keen as are the arrows ,of that silver sphere ,whose intense lamp narrows ,in the white dawn clear4 ,until we hardly see1 we feel1 that it is there4 ,all the earth and air ,with thy voice is loud1 ,as1 when night is bare1 ,from one lonely cloud ,the moon rains out her beams1 and heaven is overflowed4 ,what thou art we know not2 ,what is most like thee8 ,from rainbow clouds there flow not ,drops so bright to see1 ,as from thy presence showers a rain of melody3-- ,like a poet hidden ,in the light of thought1 ,singing hymns unbidden1 ,till the world is wrought ,to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not3 ,like a high-born maiden ,in a palace-tower1 ,soothing her love-laden ,soul in secret hour ,with music sweet as love1 which overflows her bower3 ,like a glow-worm golden ,in a dell of dew1 ,scattering unbeholden ,its aerial hue ,among the flowers and grass1 which screen it from the view3 ,like a rose embowered ,in its own green leaves1 ,by warm winds deflowered1 ,till the scent it gives ,makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves3 ,sound of vernal showers ,on the twinkling grass1 ,rain-awakened flowers1 ,all that ever was ,joyous1 and clear1 and fresh1 thy music doth surpass4 ,teach us1 sprite or bird1 ,what sweet thoughts are thine3 ,i have never heard ,praise of love or wine ,that panted forth a flood of rapture so divine4 ,chorus ,hymeneal1 ,or triumphal chaunt1 ,matched with thine would be all ,but an empty vaunt1 ,a thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want4 ,what objects are the fountains ,of thy happy strain8 ,what fields1 or waves1 or mountains8 ,what shapes of sky or plain8 ,what love of thine own kind8 what ignorance of pain8 ,with thy clear keen joyance ,languor cannot be3 ,shadow of annoyance ,never came near thee3 ,thou lovest3 but ne'er knew love's sad satiety4 ,waking or asleep1 ,thou of death must deem ,things more true and deep ,than we mortals dream1 ,or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream8 ,we look before and after ,and pine for what is not3 ,our sincerest laughter ,with some pain is fraught2 ,our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought4 ,yet if we could scorn ,hate1 and pride1 and fear2 ,if we were things born ,not to a shed a tear1 ,i know not how thy joy we ever should come near4 ,better than all measures ,of delightful sound1 ,better than all treasures ,that in books are found4 ,thy skill to poet were1 thou scorner of the ground6 ,teach me half the gladness ,that thy brain must know1 ,such harmonious madness ,from my lips would flow1 ,the world should listen then1 as ,i am listening now1 ,percy ,bysshe ,shelley4 ,the ,brook ,i come from haunts of coot and hern1 ,i make a sudden sally1 ,and sparkle out among the fern1 ,to bicker down a valley4 ,by thirty hills ,i hurry down1 ,or slip between the ridges1 ,by twenty thorps1 a little town1 ,and half a hundred bridges4 ,till last by ,philip's farm ,i flow ,to join the brimming river1 ,for men may come and men may go1 ,but ,i go on forever4 ,i chatter over stony ways1 ,in little sharps and trebles1 ,i bubble into eddying bays1 ,i babble on the pebbles4 ,with many a curve my banks ,i fret ,by many a field and fallow1 ,and many a fairy foreland set ,with willow-weed and mallow4 ,i chatter1 chatter as ,i flow ,to join the brimming river1 ,for men may come and men may go1 ,but ,i go on forever4 ,i wind about1 and in and out1 ,with here a blossom sailing1 ,and here and there a lusty trout1 ,and here and there a grayling1 ,and here and there a foamy flake ,upon me as ,i travel ,with many a silvery waterbreak ,above the golden gravel1 ,and draw them all along1 and flow ,to join the brimming river1 ,for men may come and men may go1 ,but ,i go on forever4 ,i steal by lawns and grassy plots1 ,i slide by hazel covers2 ,i move the sweet forget-me-nots ,that grow for happy lovers4 ,i slip1 ,i slide1 ,i gloom1 ,i glance1 ,among my skimming swallows2 ,i make the netted sunbeam dance ,against my sandy shallows4 ,i murmur under moon and stars1 ,in brambly wildernesses2 ,i linger by my shingly bars2 ,i loiter round my cresses2 ,and out again ,i curve and flow ,to join the brimming river1 ,for men may come and men may go1 ,but ,i go on forever4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,june 7,from ,the ,vision of ,sir ,launfal7 ,no price is set on the lavish summer1 ,june may be had by the poorest comer4 ,and what is so rare as a day in ,june8 ,then1 if ever1 come perfect days2 ,then ,heaven tries earth if it be in tune1 ,and over it softly her warm ear lays2 ,whether we look1 or whether we listen1 ,we hear life murmur1 or see it glisten2 ,every clod feels a stir of might1 ,an instinct within it that reaches and towers1 ,and1 groping blindly above it for light1 ,climbs to a soul in grass and flowers2 ,the flush of life may well be seen ,thrilling back over hills and valleys2 ,the cowslip startles in meadows green1 ,the buttercup catches the sun in its chalice1 ,and there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean ,to be some happy creature's palace2 ,the little bird sits at his door in the sun1 ,atilt like a blossom among the leaves1 ,and lets his illumined being o'errun ,with the deluge of summer it receives2 ,his mate feels the eggs beneath her wings1 ,and the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings2 ,he sings to the wide world1 and she to her nest1-- ,in the nice ear of ,nature1 which song is the best8 ,now is the high-tide of the year1 ,and whatever of life hath ebbed away ,comes flooding back1 with a ripply cheer1 ,into every bare inlet and creek and bay2 ,now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it1 ,we are happy now because ,god wills it2 ,no matter how barren the past may have been1 ',t is enough for us now that the leaves are green2 ,we sit in the warm shade and feel right well ,how the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell2 ,we may shut our eyes1 but we cannot help knowing ,that skies are clear and grass is growing2 ,the breeze comes whispering in our ear1 ,that dandelions are blossoming near1 ,that maize has sprouted1 that streams are flowing1 ,that the river is bluer than the sky1 ,that the robin is plastering his house hard by2 ,and if the breeze kept the good news back1 ,for other couriers we should not lack2 ,we could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing1-- ,and hark6 how clear bold chanticleer1 ,warmed with the new wine of the year1 ,tells all in his lusty crowing6 ,joy comes1 grief goes1 we know not how2 ,everything is happy now1 ,everything is upward striving2 ',t is as easy now for the heart to be true ,as for grass to be green or skies to be blue1-- ',t is the natural way of living4 ,who knows whither the clouds have fled8 ,in the unscarred heaven they leave no wake1 ,and the eyes forget the tears they have shed1 ,the heart forgets its sorrow and ache2 ,the soul partakes the season's youth1 ,and the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe ,lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth1 ,like burnt-out craters healed with snow4 ,james ,russell ,lowell4 ,the ,planting of the ,apple-,tree ,come1 let us plant the apple-tree4 ,cleave the tough greensward with the spade2 ,wide let its hollow bed be made2 ,there gently lay the roots1 and there ,sift the dark mould with kindly care4 ,and press it o'er them tenderly1 ,as round the sleeping infant's feet ,we softly fold the cradle-sheet2 ,so plant we the apple tree4 ,what plant we in this apple-tree8 ,buds1 which the breath of summer days ,shall lengthen into leafy sprays2 ,boughs where the thrush with crimson breast ,shall haunt1 and sing1 and hide her nest2 ,we plant1 upon the sunny lea1 ,a shadow for the noontide hour1 ,a shelter from the summer shower1 ,when we plant the apple-tree4 ,what plant we in this apple-tree8 ,sweets for a hundred flowery springs1 ,to load the ,may-wind's restless wings1 ,when1 from the orchard row1 he pours ,its fragrance through our open doors2 ,a world of blossoms for the bee1 ,flowers for the sick girl's silent room1 ,for the glad infant sprigs of bloom1 ,we plant with the apple-tree4 ,what plant we in this apple-tree8 ,fruits that shall swell in sunny ,june1 ,and redden in the ,august noon1 ,and drop1 when gentle airs come by1 ,that fan the blue ,september sky4 ,while children come1 with cries of glee1 ,and seek them where the fragrant grass ,betrays their bed to those who pass1 ,at the foot of the apple tree4 ,and when1 above this apple tree1 ,the winter stars are quivering bright1 ,and winds go howling through the night1 ,girls1 whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth1 ,shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth1 ,and guests in prouder homes shall see1 ,heaped with the grape of ,cintra's vine1 ,and golden orange of the ,line1 ,the fruit of the apple-tree4 ,the fruitage of this apple-tree ,winds1 and our flag of stripe and star ,shall bear to coasts that lie afar1 ,where men shall wonder at the view1 ,and ask in what fair groves they grew2 ,and sojourners beyond the sea ,shall think of childhood's careless day ,and long1 long hours of summer play1 ,in the shade of the apple-tree4 ,each year shall give this apple-tree ,a broader flush of roseate bloom1 ,a deeper maze of verdurous gloom1 ,and loosen1 when the frost-clouds lower1 ,the crisp brown leaves in thicker shower4 ,the years shall come and pass1 but we ,shall hear no longer1 where we lie1 ,the summer's songs1 the autumn's sigh1 ,in the boughs of the apple-tree4 ,and time shall waste this apple tree4 ,oh1 when its aged branches throw ,thin shadows on the ground below1 ,shall fraud and force and iron will ,oppress the weak and helpless still8 ,what shall the tasks of mercy be1 ,amid the toils1 the strifes1 the tears ,of those who live when length of years ,is wasting this apple-tree8 ,who planted this old apple-tree8 ,the children of that distant day ,thus to some aged man shall say2 ,and1 gazing on its mossy stem1 ,the gray-haired man shall answer them3 ,a poet of the land was he1 ,born in the rude but good old times2 ',tis said he made some quaint old rhymes ,on planting the apple-tree4 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,character of the ,happy ,warrior ,who is the happy ,warrior8 ,who is he ,that every man in arms should wish to be8 --,it is the generous ,spirit1 who1 when brought ,among the tasks of real life1 hath wrought ,upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought3 ,whose high endeavors are an inward light ,that makes the path before him always bright3 ,who1 with a natural instinct to discern ,what knowledge can perform1 is diligent to learn2 ,abides by this resolve1 and stops not there1 ,but makes his moral being his prime care2 ,who1 doomed to go in company with ,pain1 ,and ,fear1 and ,bloodshed1 miserable train6 ,turns his necessity to glorious gain2 ,in face of these doth exercise a power ,which is our human nature's highest dower2 ,controls them and subdues1 transmutes1 bereaves ,of their bad influence1 and their good receives3 ,by objects1 which might force the soul to abate ,her feeling1 rendered more compassionate2 ,is placable--because occasions rise ,so often that demand such sacrifice2 ,more skillful in self-knowledge1 even more pure1 ,as tempted more2 more able to endure1 ,as more exposed to suffering and distress2 ,thence also1 more alive to tenderness4 --',tis he whose law is reason2 who depends ,upon that law as on the best of friends2 ,whence1 in a state where men are tempted still ,to evil for a guard against worse ill1 ,and what in quality or act is best ,doth seldom on a right foundation rest1 ,he labors good on good to fix1 and owes ,to virtue every triumph that he knows3 --,who1 if he rise to station of command1 ,rises by open means2 and there will stand ,on honorable terms1 or else retire1 ,and in himself possess his own desire2 ,who comprehends his trust1 and to the same ,keeps faithful with a singleness of aim2 ,and therefore does not stoop1 nor lie in wait ,for wealth1 or honors1 or for worldly state2 ,whom they must follow2 on whose head must fall1 ,like showers of manna1 if they come at all2 ,whose powers shed round him in the common strife1 ,or mild concerns of ordinary life1 ,a constant influence1 a peculiar grace2 ,but who1 if he be called upon to face ,some awful moment to which ,heaven has joined ,great issues1 good or bad for human kind1 ,is happy as a ,lover2 and attired ,with sudden brightness1 like a ,man inspired2 ,and1 through the heat of conflict1 keeps the law ,in calmness made1 and sees what he foresaw2 ,or if an unexpected call succeed1 ,come when it will1 is equal to the need3 --,he who1 though thus endued as with a sense ,and faculty for storm and turbulence1 ,is yet a ,soul whose master-bias leans ,to homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes2 ,sweet images6 which1 wheresoe'er he be1 ,are at his heart2 and such fidelity ,it is his darling passion to approve2 ,more brave for this1 that he hath much to love3-- ',tis1 finally1 the ,man who lifted high1 ,conspicuous object in a ,nation's eye1 ,or left unthought-of in obscurity1-- ,who1 with a toward or untoward lot1 ,prosperous or adverse1 to his wish or not-- ,plays1 in the many games of life1 that one ,where what he most doth value must be won3 ,whom neither shape of danger can dismay1 ,nor thought of tender happiness betray2 ,who1 not content that former worth stand fast1 ,looks forward1 persevering to the last1 ,from well to better1 daily self-surpast3 ,who1 whether praise of him must walk the earth ,forever1 and to noble deeds give birth1 ,or he must fall1 to sleep without his fame1 ,and leave a dead unprofitable name-- ,finds comfort in himself and in his cause2 ,and1 while the mortal mist is gathering1 draws ,his breath in confidence of ,heaven's applause3 ,this is the happy ,warrior2 this is ,he ,that every ,man in arms should wish to be4 ,william ,wordsworth4 ,the ,charge of the ,light ,brigade ,half a league1 half a league1 ,half a league onward1 ,all in the valley of ,death ,rode the six hundred4 ,forward1 the ,light ,brigade6 ,charge for the guns1 he said3 ,into the valley of ,death ,rode the six hundred4 ,forward1 the ,light ,brigade6 ,was there a man dismay'd8 ,not tho' the soldier knew ,some one had blunder'd3 ,theirs not to make reply1 ,theirs not to reason why1 ,theirs but to do and die3 ,into the valley of ,death ,rode the six hundred4 ,cannon to right of them1 ,cannon to left of them1 ,cannon in front of them ,volley'd and thunder'd2 ,storm'd at with shot and shell1 ,boldly they rode and well1 ,into the jaws of ,death1 ,into the mouth of ,hell ,rode the six hundred1 ,flash'd all their sabres bare1 ,flash'd as they turn'd in air1 ,sabring the gunners there1 ,charging an army1 while ,all the world wonder'd3 ,plung'd in the battery-smoke ,right thro' the line they broke2 ,cossack and ,russian ,reel'd from the sabre-stroke ,shatter'd and sunder'd4 ,then they rode back1 but not1-- ,not the six hundred4 ,cannon to right of them1 ,cannon to left of them1 ,cannon behind them ,volley'd and thunder'd2 ,storm'd at with shot and shell1 ,while horse and hero fell1 ,they that had fought so well ,came thro' the jaws of ,death1 ,back from the mouth of ,hell1 ,all that was left of them1 ,left of six hundred4 ,when can their glory fade8 ,o the wild charge they made6 ,all the world wonder'd4 ,honor the charge they made6 ,honor the ,light ,brigade1 ,noble six hundred6 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson44 ,sheridan's ,ride ,october #ai1 #ahfd ,up from the ,south at break of day1 ,bringing to ,winchester fresh dismay1 ,the affrighted air with a shudder bore1 ,like a herald in haste1 to the chieftain's door1 ,the terrible grumble1 and rumble1 and roar1 ,telling the battle was on once more1 ,and ,sheridan--twenty miles away4 ,and wider still those billows of war ,thundered along the horizon's bar2 ,and louder yet into ,winchester rolled ,the roar of that red sea uncontrolled1 ,making the blood of the listener cold ,as he thought of the stake in that fiery fray1 ,and ,sheridan--twenty miles away4 ,but there is a road from ,winchester town1 ,a good broad highway leading down2 ,and there1 through the flush of the morning light1 ,a steed1 as black as the steeds of night1 ,was seen to pass1 as with eagle flight2 ,as if he knew the terrible need1 ,he stretched away with the utmost speed2 ,hills rose and fell--but his heart was gay1 ,with ,sheridan fifteen miles away4 ,still sprung from those swift hoofs1 thundering ,south1 ,the dust1 like smoke from the cannon's mouth2 ,or the trail of a comet1 sweeping faster and faster1 ,foreboding to foemen the doom of disaster4 ,the heart of the steed and the heart of the master ,were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls1 ,impatient to be where the battle-field calls2 ,every nerve of the charger was strained to full play1 ,with ,sheridan only ten miles away4 ,under his spurning feet the road ,like an arrowy ,alpine river flowed1 ,and the landscape sped away behind ,like an ocean flying before the wind2 ,and the steed1 like a bark fed with furnace ire1 ,swept on1 with his wild eyes full of fire4 ,but lo6 he is nearing his heart's desire-- ,he is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray1 ,with ,sheridan only five miles away4 ,the first that the ,general saw were the groups ,of stragglers1 and then the retreating troops4 ,what was done8 what to do8 a glance told him both1 ,then striking his spurs1 with a terrible oath1 ,he dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas1 ,and the wave of retreat checked its course there1 because ,the sight of the master compelled it to pause4 ,with foam and with dust the black charger was gray2 ,by the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play ,he seemed to the whole great army to say1 ,i have brought you ,sheridan all the way ,from ,winchester down to save the day6 ,hurrah1 hurrah for ,sheridan6 ,hurrah1 hurrah for horse and man6 ,and when their statues are placed on high1 ,under the dome of the ,union sky-- ,the ,american soldier's ,temple of ,fame-- ,there1 with the glorious ,general's name1 ,be it said in letters both bold and bright3 ,here is the steed that saved the day1 ,by carrying ,sheridan into the fight1 ,from ,winchester--twenty miles away6 ,thomas ,buchanan ,read4 ,o ,little ,town of ,bethlehem ,o little town of ,bethlehem1 ,how still we see thee lie6 ,above thy deep and dreamless sleep ,the silent stars go by2 ,yet in thy dark streets shineth ,the everlasting ,light2 ,the hopes and fears of all the years ,are met in thee to-night4 ,for ,christ is born of ,mary1 ,and1 gathered all above1 ,while mortals sleep1 the angels keep ,their watch of wondering love4 ,o morning stars1 together ,proclaim the holy birth6 ,and praises sing to ,god the ,king1 ,and peace to men on earth4 ,how silently1 how silently1 ,the wondrous gift is given6 ,so ,god imparts to human hearts ,the blessings of ,his heaven4 ,no ear may hear ,his coming1 ,but in this world of sin1 ,where meek souls will receive ,him still1 ,the dear ,christ enters in4 ,o holy ,child of ,bethlehem6 ,descend to us1 we pray2 ,cast out our sin1 and enter in1 ,be born in us to-day4 ,we hear the ,christmas angels ,the great glad tidings tell2 ,oh1 come to us1 abide with us1 ,our ,lord ,emmanuel6 ,phillips ,brooks4 ,the ,chambered ,nautilus ,this is the ship of pearl1 which1 poets feign1 ,sails the unshadowed main1-- ,the venturous bark that flings ,on the sweet summer wind its purpled wings ,in gulfs enchanted1 where the ,siren sings1 ,and coral reefs lie bare1 ,where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair4 ,its webs of living gauze no more unfurl2 ,wrecked is the ship of pearl6 ,and every chambered cell1 ,where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell1 ,as the frail tenant shaped his growing shell1 ,before thee lies revealed1-- ,its irised ceiling rent1 its sunless crypt unsealed6 ,year after year beheld the silent toil ,that spread his lustrous coil2 ,still1 as the spiral grew1 ,he left the past year's dwelling for the new1 ,stole with soft step its shining archway through1 ,built up its idle door1 ,stretched in his last-found home1 and knew the old no more4 ,thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee1 ,child of the wandering sea1 ,cast from her lap1 forlorn6 ,from thy dead lips a clearer note is born ,than ever ,triton blew from wreathed horn6 ,while on mine ear it rings1 ,through the deep caves of thought ,i hear a voice that sings3-- ,build thee more stately mansions1 ,o my soul1 ,as the swift seasons roll6 ,leave thy low-vaulted past6 ,let each new temple1 nobler than the last1 ,shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast1 ,till thou at length art free1 ,leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea6 ,oliver ,wendell ,holmes4 ,nobility ,true worth is in being1 not seeming1-- ,in doing1 each day that goes by1 ,some little good--not in dreaming ,of great things to do by and by4 ,for whatever men say in their blindness1 ,and spite of the fancies of youth1 ,there's nothing so kingly as kindness1 ,and nothing so royal as truth4 ,we get back our mete as we measure-- ,we cannot do wrong and feel right1 ,nor can we give pain and gain pleasure1 ,for justice avenges each slight4 ,the air for the wing of the sparrow1 ,the bush for the robin and wren1 ,but alway the path that is narrow ,and straight1 for the children of men4 ',tis not in the pages of story ,the heart of its ills to beguile1 ,though he who makes courtship to glory ,gives all that he hath for her smile4 ,for when from her heights he has won her1 ,alas6 it is only to prove ,that nothing's so sacred as honor1 ,and nothing so loyal as love6 ,we cannot make bargains for blisses1 ,nor catch them like fishes in nets2 ,and sometimes the thing our life misses ,helps more than the thing which it gets4 ,for good lieth not in pursuing1 ,nor gaining of great nor of small1 ,but just in the doing1 and doing ,as we would be done by1 is all4 ,through envy1 through malice1 through hating1 ,against the world1 early and late1 ,no jot of our courage abating-- ,our part is to work and to wait4 ,and slight is the sting of his trouble ,whose winnings are less than his worth2 ,for he who is honest is noble1 ,whatever his fortunes or birth4 ,alice ,cary4 ,the ,wind ,who has seen the wind8 ,neither ,i nor you3 ,but when the leaves hang trembling1 ,the wind is passing through4 ,who has seen the wind8 ,neither you nor ,i3 ,but when the trees bow down their heads1 ,the wind is passing by4 ,christina ,g4 ,rosetti4 ,the ,owl and ,the ,pussy-,cat ,the ,owl and the ,pussy-,cat went to sea ,in a beautiful pea-green boat2 ,they took some honey1 and plenty of money1 ,wrapped up in a five-pound note4 ,the ,owl looked up to the moon above ,and sang to a small guitar1 ,o lovely ,pussy6 ,o ,pussy1 my love6 ,what a beautiful ,pussy you are1-- ,you are1 ,what a beautiful ,pussy you are6 ,pussy said to the ,owl1 ,you elegant fowl6 ,how wonderful sweet you sing6 ,oh1 let us be married1--too long we have tarried1-- ,but what shall we do for a ring8 ,they sailed away for a year and a day ,to the land where the ,bong-tree grows1 ,and there in a wood1 a piggy-wig stood ,with a ring in the end of his nose1-- ,his nose1 ,with a ring in the end of his nose4 ,dear ,pig1 are you willing to sell for one shilling ,your ring8 ,said the ,piggy1 ,i will4 ,so they took it away1 and were married next day ,by the turkey who lives on the hill4 ,they dined upon mince and slices of quince ,which they ate with a runcible spoon1 ,and hand in hand on the edge of the sand ,they danced by the light of the moon1-- ,the moon1 ,they danced by the light of the moon4 ,edward ,lear4 ,the ,frost ,the ,frost looked forth one still1 clear night1 ,and whispered1 ,now ,i shall be out of sight2 ,so through the valley and over the height ,in silence ,i'll take my way4 ,i will not go on like that blustering train1 ,the wind and the snow1 the hail and the rain1 ,that make so much bustle and noise in vain1 ,but ,i'll be as busy as they6 ,so he flew to the mountain1 and powdered its crest2 ,he lit on the trees1 and their boughs he drest ,in diamond beads--and over the breast ,of the quivering lake he spread ,a coat of mail1 that it need not fear ,the downward point of many a spear ,that he hung on its margin1 far and near1 ,where a rock could rear its head4 ,he went to the windows of those who slept1 ,and over each pane like a fairy crept2 ,wherever he breathed1 wherever he stepped1 ,by the light of the morn were seen ,most beautiful things2 there were flowers and trees2 ,there were bevies of birds and swarms of bees2 ,there were cities with temples and towers2 and these ,all pictured in silver sheen6 ,but he did one thing that was hardly fair1-- ,he peeped in the cupboard1 and finding there ,that all had forgotten for him to prepare1 ,now1 just to set them a-thinking1 ,i'll bite this basket of fruit1 said he2 ,this costly pitcher ,i'll burst in three2 ,and the glass of water they've left for me ,shall 'tchick6' to tell them ,i'm drinking6 ,hannah ,f4 ,gould4 ,the ,corn ,song ,heap high the farmer's wintry hoard6 ,heap high the golden corn6 ,no richer gift has ,autumn poured ,from out her lavish horn6 ,let other lands1 exulting1 glean ,the apple from the pine1 ,the orange from its glossy green1 ,the cluster from the vine2 ,we better love the hardy gift ,our rugged vales bestow1 ,to cheer us when the storm shall drift ,our harvest-fields with snow4 ,through vales of grass and meads of flowers1 ,our plows their furrows made1 ,while on the hills the sun and showers ,of changeful ,april played4 ,we dropped the seed o'er hill and plain1 ,beneath the sun of ,may1 ,and frightened from our sprouting grain ,the robber crows away4 ,all through the long1 bright days of ,june1 ,its leaves grew green and fair1 ,and waved in hot midsummer's noon ,its soft and yellow hair4 ,and now1 with ,autumn's moonlit eyes1 ,its harvest time has come1 ,we pluck away the frosted leaves ,and bear the treasure home4 ,there1 richer than the fabled gift ,apollo showered of old1 ,fair hands the broken grain shall sift1 ,and knead its meal of gold4 ,let vapid idlers loll in silk1 ,around their costly board2 ,give us the bowl of samp and milk1 ,by homespun beauty poured6 ,where'er the wide old kitchen hearth ,sends up its smoky curls1 ,who will not thank the kindly earth1 ,and bless our farmer girls6 ,then shame on all the proud and vain1 ,whose folly laughs to scorn ,the blessing of our hardy grain1 ,our wealth of golden corn6 ,let earth withhold her goodly root1 ,let mildew blight her rye1 ,give to the worm the orchard's fruit1 ,the wheat-field to the fly3 ,but let the good old crop adorn ,the hills our fathers trod2 ,still let us1 for ,his golden corn1 ,send up our thanks to ,god6 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,on ,his ,blindness ,when ,i consider how my light is spent ,ere half my days1 in this dark world and wide1 ,and that one talent which is death to hide1 ,lodged with me useless1 though my soul more bent ,to serve therewith my ,maker1 and present ,my true account1 lest ,he1 returning1 chide2 ,doth ,god exact day-labor1 light denied8 ,i fondly ask4 ,but ,patience1 to prevent ,that murmur1 soon replies1 ,god doth not need ,either man's work or ,his own gifts4 ,who best ,bear ,his mild yoke1 they serve ,him best4 ,his state ,is kingly3 thousands at his bidding speed1 ,and post o'er land and ocean without rest2 ,they also serve who only stand and wait4 ,john ,milton4 ,a ,boy's ,song ,where the pools are bright and deep1 ,where the gray trout lies asleep1 ,up the river and o'er the lea1 ,that's the way for ,billy and me4 ,where the blackbird sings the latest1 ,where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest1 ,where the nestlings chirp and flee4 ,that's the way for ,billy and me4 ,where the mowers mow the cleanest1 ,where the hay lies thick and greenest2 ,there to trace the homeward bee1 ,that's the way for ,billy and me4 ,where the hazel bank is steepest1 ,where the shadow falls the deepest1 ,where the clustering nuts fall free1 ,that's the way for ,billy and me4 ,why the boys should drive away ,little sweet maidens from their play1 ,or love to banter and fight so well1 ,that's the thing ,i never could tell4 ,but this ,i know1 ,i love to play1 ,through the meadow1 among the hay1 ,up the water and o'er the lea1 ,that's the way for ,billy and me4 ,james ,hogg4 ,november ,the leaves are fading and falling1 ,the winds are rough and wild1 ,the birds have ceased their calling1 ,but let me tell you1 my child1 ,though day by day1 as it closes1 ,doth darker and colder grow1 ,the roots of the bright red roses ,will keep alive in the snow4 ,and when the winter is over1 ,the boughs will get new leaves1 ,the quail come back to the clover1 ,and the swallow back to the eaves4 ,there must be rough1 cold weather1 ,and winds and rains so wild2 ,not all good things together ,come to us here1 my child4 ,so1 when some dear joy loses ,its beauteous summer glow1 ,think how the roots of the roses ,are kept alive in the snow4 ,alice ,gary4 ,little ,birdie ,what does little birdie say1 ,in her nest at peep of day8 ,let me fly1 says little birdie-- ,mother1 let me fly away4 ,birdie1 rest a little longer1 ,till the little wings are stronger4 ,so she rests a little longer1 ,then she flies away4 ,what does little baby say ,in her bed at peep of day8 ,baby says1 like little birdie1 ,let me rise and fly away4 ,baby1 sleep a little longer1 ,till the little limbs are stronger4 ,if she sleeps a little longer1 ,baby1 too1 shall fly away4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,the ,fairies ,up the airy mountain1 ,down the rushy glen1 ,we daren't go a-hunting ,for fear of little men2 ,wee folk1 good folk1 ,trooping all together2 ,green jacket1 red cap1 ,and white owl's feather6 ,down along the rocky shore ,some make their home2 ,they live on crispy pancakes ,of yellow tide foam2 ,some in the reeds ,of the black mountain-lake1 ,with frogs for their watch dogs1 ,all night awake4 ,high on the hill-top ,the old ,king sits2 ,he is now so old and gray ,he's nigh lost his wits4 ,with a bridge of white mist ,columbkill he crosses1 ,on his stately journeys ,from ,slieveleague to ,rosses2 ,or going up with music ,on cold1 starry nights1 ,to sup with the ,queen ,of the gay ,northern ,lights4 ,by the craggy hillside1 ,through the mosses bare1 ,they have planted thorn trees ,for pleasure here and there2 ,is any man so daring1 ,as dig them up in spite8 ,he shall find their sharpest thorns ,in his bed at night4 ,up the airy mountain1 ,down the rushy glen1 ,we daren't go a-hunting ,for fear of little men2 ,wee folk1 good folk1 ,trooping all together2 ,green jacket1 red cap1 ,and white owl's feather1 ,william ,allingham4 ,the ,wonderful ,world ,great1 wide1 beautiful1 wonderful ,world1 ,with the wonderful water round you curled1 ,and the wonderful grass upon your breast1 ,world1 you are beautifully drest4 ,the wonderful air is over me4 ,and the wonderful wind is shaking the tree-- ,it walks on the water1 and whirls the mills1 ,and talks to itself on the top of the hills4 ,you friendly ,earth1 how far do you go1 ,with the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow1 ,with cities and gardens1 and cliffs and isles1 ,and people upon you for thousands of miles8 ,ah6 you are so great1 and ,i am so small1 ,i hardly can think of you1 ,world1 at all2 ,and yet1 when ,i said my prayers today1 ,a whisper within me seemed to say3 ,you are more than the ,earth1 though you are such a dot6 ,you can love and think1 and the ,earth can not4 ,william ,brighty ,rands4 ,be ,strong ,be strong6 ,we are not here to play1 to dream1 to drift2 ,we have hard work to do1 and loads to lift2 ,shun not the struggle--face it2 'tis ,god's gift4 ,be strong6 ,say not1 ,the days are evil4 ,who's to blame8 ,and fold the hands and acquiesce--oh shame6 ,stand up1 speak out1 and bravely1 in ,god's name4 ,be strong6 ,it matters not how deep intrenched the wrong4 ,how hard the battle goes1 the day how long2 ,faint not--fight on6 ,to-morrow comes the song4 ,maltbie ,davenport ,babcock4 ,song3 ,the ,owl ,when cats run home and light is come1 ,and dew is cold upon the ground1 ,and the far-off stream is dumb1 ,and the whirring sail goes round1 ,and the whirring sail goes round1 ,alone and warming his five wits1 ,the white owl in the belfry sits4 ,when merry milkmaids click the latch1 ,and rarely smells the new-mown hay1 ,and the cock hath sung beneath the thatch ,twice or thrice his roundelay1 ,twice or thrice his roundelay2 ,alone and warming his five wits1 ,the white owl in the belfry sits4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,opportunity ,master of human destinies am ,i6 ,fame1 love and fortune on my footsteps wait4 ,cities and fields ,i walk3 ,i penetrate ,deserts and fields remote1 and1 passing by ,hovel and mart and palace1 soon or late ,i knock unbidden once at every gate6 ,if sleeping1 wake3 if feasting1 rise before ,i turn away4 ,it is the hour of fate1 ,and they who follow me reach every state ,mortals desire1 and conquer every foe ,save death2 but those who doubt or hesitate1 ,condemned to failure1 penury and woe1 ,seek me in vain and uselessly implore-- ,i answer not1 and ,i return no more4 ,john ,j4 ,ingalls4 ,opportunity ,they do me wrong who say ,i come no more ,when once ,i knock and fail to find you in2 ,for every day ,i stand outside your door ,and bid you wake and rise to fight and win4 ,wail not for precious chances passed away6 ,weep not for golden ages on the wane6 ,each night ,i burn the records of the day2 ,at sunrise every soul is born again4 ,laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped2 ,to vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb2 ,my judgments seal the dead past with its dead1 ,but never bind a moment yet to come4 ,though deep in mire1 wring not your hands and weep2 ,i lend an arm to all who say3 ,i can6 ,no shamefac'd outcast ever sank so deep ,but yet might rise and be again a man4 ,dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast8 ,dost reel from righteous retribution's blow8 ,then turn from blotted archives of the past ,and find the future's pages white as snow6 ,art thou a mourner8 ,rouse thee from thy spell2 ,art thou a sinner8 ,sins may be forgiven6 ,each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell2 ,each night a star to guide thy feet to ,heaven4 ,walter ,malone4 ,sweet and ,low 7,from ,the ,princess7 ,sweet and low1 sweet and low1 ,wind of the western sea1 ,low1 low1 breathe and blow1 ,wind of the western sea6 ,over the rolling waters go1 ,come from the dying moon1 and blow1 ,blow him again to me2 ,while my little one1 while my pretty one1 sleeps4 ,sleep and rest1 sleep and rest1 ,father will come to thee soon2 ,rest1 rest1 on mother's breast1 ,father will come to thee soon2 ,father will come to his babe in the nest1 ,silver sails all out of the west ,under the silver moon2 ,sleep1 my little one1 sleep1 my pretty one1 sleep4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,the ,barefoot ,boy ,blessings on thee1 little man1 ,barefoot boy1 with cheek of tan6 ,with thy turned-up pantaloons1 ,and thy merry whistled tunes2 ,with thy red lip1 redder still ,kissed by strawberries on the hill2 ,with the sunshine on thy face1 ,through thy torn brim's jaunty grace3 ,from1 my heart ,i give thee joy1-- ,i was once a barefoot boy6 ,prince thou art1--the grown-up man ,only is republican4 ,let the million-dollared ride6 ,barefoot1 trudging at his side1 ,thou hast more than he can buy ,in the reach of ear and eye1-- ,outward sunshine1 inward joy3 ,blessings on thee1 barefoot boy6 ,o for boyhood's painless play1 ,sleep that wakes in laughing day1 ,health that mocks the doctor's rules1 ,knowledge never learned of schools1 ,of the wild bee's morning chase1 ,of the wild-flower's time and place4 ,flight of fowl and habitude ,of the tenants of the wood2 ,how the tortoise bears his shell1 ,how the woodchuck digs his cell1 ,and the ground-mole sinks his well2 ,how the robin feeds her young1 ,how the oriole's nest is hung2 ,where the whitest lilies blow1 ,where the freshest berries grow1 ,where the groundnut trails its vine1 ,where the wood-grape's clusters shine2 ,of the black wasp's cunning way1 ,mason of his walls of clay1 ,and the architectural plans ,of gray hornet artisans6-- ,for1 eschewing books and tasks1 ,nature answers all he asks2 ,hand in hand with her he walks1 ,face to face with her he talks1 ,part and parcel of her joy1-- ,blessings on the barefoot boy6 ,o for boyhood's time of ,june1 ,crowding years in one brief moon1 ,when all things ,i heard or saw1 ,me1 their master1 waited for4 ,i was rich in flowers and trees1 ,humming-birds and honey-bees2 ,for my sport the squirrel played1 ,plied the snouted mole his spade2 ,for my taste the blackberry cone ,purpled over hedge and stone2 ,laughed the brook for my delight ,through the day and through the night ,whispering at the garden wall1 ,talked with me from fall to fall2 ,mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond1 ,mine the walnut slopes beyond1 ,mine1 on bending orchard trees1 ,apples of ,hesperides6 ,still as my horizon grew1 ,larger grew my riches too2 ,all the world ,i saw or knew ,seemed a complex ,chinese toy1 ,fashioned for a barefoot boy6 ,o for festal dainties spread1 ,like my bowl of milk and bread1-- ,pewter spoon and bowl of wood1 ,on the door-stone1 gray and rude6 ,o'er me1 like a regal tent1 ,cloudy-ribbed1 the sunset bent1 ,purple-curtained1 fringed with gold4 ,looped in many a wind-swung fold2 ,while for music came the play ,of the pied frogs' orchestra2 ,and1 to light the noisy choir1 ,lit the fly his lamp of fire4 ,i was monarch3 pomp and joy ,waited on the barefoot boy6 ,cheerily1 then1 my little man1 ,live and laugh1 as boyhood can6 ,though the flinty slopes be hard1 ,stubble-speared the new-mown sward1 ,every morn shall lead thee through ,fresh baptisms of the dew2 ,every evening from thy feet ,shall the cool wind kiss the heat3 ,all too soon these feet must hide ,in the prison cells of pride1 ,lose the freedom of the sod1 ,like a colt's for work be shod1 ,made to tread the mills of toil1 ,up and down in ceaseless moil3 ,happy if their track be found ,never on forbidden ground1 ,happy if they sink not in ,quick and treacherous sands of sin4 ,ah6 that thou couldst know thy joy1 ,ere it passes1 barefoot boy6 ,john ,greenleaf ,whittier4 ,polonius' ,advice to ,laertes 7,from ,hamlet7 ,there1--my blessing with you6 ,and these few precepts in thy memory ,see thou character4--,give thy thoughts no tongue1 ,nor any unproportion'd thought his act4 ,be thou familiar1 but by no means vulgar4 ,the friends thou hast1 and their adoption tried1 ,grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel2 ,but do not dull thy palm with entertainment ,of each new-hatched1 unfledged comrade4 ,beware ,of entrance to a quarrel2 but being in1 ,bear't that the opposed may beware of thee4 ,give every man thine ear1 but few thy voice3 ,take each man's censure1 but reserve thy judgment4 ,costly thy habit as thy purse can buy1 ,but not expressed in fancy2 rich1 not gaudy3 ,for the apparel oft proclaims the man4 ,neither a borrower nor a lender be1 ,for loan oft loses both itself and friend1 ,and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry4 ,this above all3 to thine own self be true1 ,and it must follow1 as the night the day1 ,thou canst not then be false to any man4 ,william ,shakespeare4 ,a ,fable ,the mountain and the squirrel ,had a quarrel1 ,and the former called the latter ,little ,prig4 ,bun replied1 ,you are doubtless very big2 ,but all sorts of things and weather ,must be taken in together1 ,to make up a year ,and a sphere4 ,and ,i think it no disgrace ,to occupy my place4 ,if ,i'm not so large as you1 ,you are not so small as ,i1 ,and not half as spry4 ,i'll not deny you make ,a very pretty squirrel track2 ,talents differ2 all is well and wisely put2 ,if ,i cannot carry forests on my back1 ,neither can you crack a nut4 ,ralph ,waldo ,emerson4 ,suppose ,suppose1 my little lady1 ,your doll should break her head1 ,could you make it whole by crying ,till your eyes and nose are red8 ,and wouldn't it be pleasanter ,to treat it as a joke1 ,and say you're glad ',twas ,dolly's ,and not your head that broke8 ,suppose you're dressed for walking1 ,and the rain comes pouring down1 ,will it clear off any sooner ,because you scold and frown8 ,and wouldn't it be nicer ,for you to smile than pout1 ,and so make sunshine in the house ,when there is none without8 ,suppose your task1 my little man1 ,is very hard to get1 ,will it make it any easier ,for you to sit and fret8 ,and wouldn't it be wiser ,than waiting like a dunce1 ,to go to work in earnest ,and learn the thing at once8 ,suppose that some boys have a horse1 ,and some a coach and pair1 ,will it tire you less while walking ,to say1 ,it isn't fair8 ,and wouldn't it be nobler ,to keep your temper sweet1 ,and in your heart be thankful ,you can walk upon your feet8 ,and suppose the world don't please you1 ,nor the way some people do1 ,do you think the whole creation ,will be altered just for you8 ,and isn't it1 my boy or girl1 ,the wisest1 bravest plan1 ,whatever comes1 or doesn't come1 ,to do the best you can8 ,phoebe ,cary4 ,i ,like ,little ,pussy ,i like little ,pussy1 ,her coat is so warm2 ,and if ,i don't hurt her ,she'll do me no harm4 ,so ,i'll not pull her tail1 ,nor drive her away1 ,but ,pussy and ,i ,very gently will play2 ,she shall sit by my side1 ,and ,i'll give her some food2 ,and she'll love me because ,i am gentle and good4 ,i'll pat little ,pussy1 ,and then she will purr1 ,and thus show her thanks ,for my kindness to her2 ,i'll not pinch her ears1 ,nor tread on her paw1 ,lest ,i should provoke her ,to use her sharp claw2 ,i never will vex her1 ,nor make her displeased1 ,for ,pussy don't like ,to be worried or teased4 ,jane ,taylor4 ,thanksgiving-,day ,over the river and through the wood1 ,to ,grandfather's house we go2 ,the horse knows the way ,to carry the sleigh ,through the white and drifted snow4 ,over the river and through the wood1-- ,oh1 how the wind does blow6 ,it stings the toes1 ,and bites the nose1 ,as over the ground we go4 ,over the river and through the wood1 ,trot fast1 my dapple gray6 ,spring over the ground1 ,like a hunting hound1 ,for this is ,thanksgiving-,day4 ,over the river and through the wood1 ,and straight through the barnyard gate6 ,we seem to go ,extremely slow1-- ,it is so hard to wait6 ,over the river and through the wood2 ,now ,grandmother's cap ,i spy6 ,hurrah for the fun6 ,is the pudding done8 ,hurrah for the pumpkin pie6 ,lydia ,maria ,child4 ,daffodils ,i wandered lonely as a cloud ,that floats on high o'er vales and hills1 ,when all at once ,i saw a crowd1 ,a host1 of golden daffodils2 ,beside the lake1 beneath the trees1 ,fluttering and dancing in the breeze4 ,continuous as the stars that shine ,and twinkle on the milky way1 ,they stretched in never-ending line ,along the margin of a bay2 ,ten thousand saw ,i at a glance1 ,tossing their heads in sprightly dance4 ,the waves beside them danced2 but they ,outdid the sparkling waves in glee2 ,a poet could not but be gay ,in such a jocund company2 ,i gazed--and gazed--but little thought ,what wealth the show to me had brought4 ,for oft1 when on my couch ,i lie ,in vacant or in pensive mood1 ,they flash upon that inward eye ,which is the bliss of solitude2 ,and then my heart with pleasure fills1 ,and dances with the daffodils4 ,william ,wordsworth4 ,to a ,butterfly ,i've watched you now a full half-hour1 ,self-poised upon that yellow flower2 ,and1 little ,butterfly6 indeed ,i know not if you sleep or feed4 ,more motionless6 and then ,how motionless6--not frozen seas ,what joy awaits you1 when the breeze ,hath found you out among the trees1 ,and calls you forth again2 ,this plot of orchard-ground is ours2 ,my trees they are1 my ,sister's flowers2 ,here rest your wings when they are weary2 ,here lodge as in a sanctuary6 ,come often to us1 fear no wrong2 ,sit near us on the bough6 ,we'll talk of sunshine and of song1 ,and summer days when we were young2 ,sweet childish days1 that were as long ,as twenty days are now4 ,william ,wordsworth4 ,to ,the ,fringed ,gentian ,thou blossom bright with autumn dew1 ,and colored with the heaven's own blue1 ,that openest when the quiet light ,succeeds the keen and frosty night1 ,thou comest not when violets lean ,o'er wandering brooks and springs unseen1 ,or columbines1 in purple dressed1 ,nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest4 ,thou waitest late and com'st alone1 ,when woods are bare and birds are flown1 ,and frosts and shortening days portend ,the aged ,year is near his end4 ,then doth thy sweet and quiet eye ,look through its fringes to the sky1 ,blue--blue--as if that sky let fall ,a flower from its cerulean wall4 ,i would that thus1 when ,i shall see ,the hour of death draw near to me1 ,hope1 blossoming within my heart1 ,may look to heaven as ,i depart4 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,the ,song of the ,camp ,give us a song6 the soldiers cried1 ,the outer trenches guarding1 ,when the heated guns of the camps allied ,grew weary of bombarding4 ,the dark ,redan1 in silent scoff1 ,lay1 grim and threatening1 under2 ,and the tawny mound of the ,malakoff ,no longer belched its thunder4 ,there was a pause4 ,a guardsman said1 ,we storm the forts to-morrow2 ,sing while we may1 another day ,will bring enough of sorrow4 ,they lay along the battery's side ,below the smoking cannon3 ,brave hearts1 from ,severn and from ,clyde1 ,and from the banks of ,shannon4 ,they sang of love1 and not of fame2 ,forgot was ,britain's glory3 ,each heart recalled a different name1 ,but all sang ,annie ,laurie4 ,voice after voice caught up the song1 ,until its tender passion ,rose like an anthem1 rich and strong1-- ,their battle-eve confession4 ,dear girl1 her name he dared not speak1 ,but1 as the song grew louder1 ,something upon the soldier's cheek ,washed off the stains of powder4 ,beyond the darkening ocean burned ,the bloody sunset's embers1 ,while the ,crimean valleys learned ,how ,english love remembers4 ,and once again a fire of hell ,rained on the ,russian quarters1 ,with scream of shot1 and burst of shell1 ,and bellowing of the mortars6 ,and ,irish ,nora's eyes are dim ,for a singer1 dumb and gory2 ,and ,english ,mary mourns for him ,who sang of ,annie ,laurie4 ,sleep1 soldiers6 still in honored rest ,your truth and valor wearing3 ,the bravest are the tenderest1-- ,the loving are the daring4 ,bayard ,taylor4 ,she ,walks in ,beauty ,she walks in beauty1 like the night ,of cloudless climes and starry skies2 ,and all that's best of dark and bright ,meet in her aspect and her eyes3 ,thus mellowed to that tender light ,which heaven to gaudy day denies4 ,one shade the more1 one ray the less1 ,had half impaired the nameless grace ,which waves in every raven tress1 ,or softly lightens o'er her face2 ,where thoughts serenely sweet express ,how pure1 how dear their dwelling-place4 ,and on that cheek1 and o'er that brow1 ,so soft1 so calm1 yet eloquent1 ,the smiles that win1 the tints that glow1 ,but tell of days in goodness spent1 ,a mind at peace with all below1 ,a heart whose love is innocent6 ,lord ,byron4 ,the ,builders ,all are architects of ,fate1 ,working in these walls of ,time2 ,some with massive deeds and great1 ,some with ornaments of rhyme4 ,nothing useless is1 or low2 ,each thing in its place is best2 ,and what seems but idle show ,strengthens and supports the rest4 ,for the structure that we raise1 ,time is with materials filled2 ,our to-days and yesterdays ,are the blocks with which we build4 ,truly shape and fashion these2 ,leave no yawning gaps between2 ,think not1 because no man sees1 ,such things will remain unseen4 ,in the elder days of ,art1 ,builders wrought with greatest care ,each minute and unseen part2 ,for the ,gods see everywhere4 ,let us do our work as well1 ,both the unseen and the seen6 ,make the house1 where ,gods may dwell1 ,beautiful1 entire1 and clean4 ,else our lives are incomplete1 ,standing in these walls of ,time1 ,broken stairways1 where the feet ,stumble as they seek to climb4 ,build to-day1 then1 strong and sure1 ,with a firm and ample base2 ,and ascending and secure ,shall to-morrow find its place4 ,thus alone can we attain ,to those turrets1 where the eye ,sees the world as one vast plain1 ,and one boundless reach of sky4 ,henry ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,the ,brown ,thrush ,there's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree1 ,he's singing to me6 ,he's singing to me6 ,and what does he say1 little girl1 little boy8 ,oh1 the world's running over with joy6 ,don't you hear8 don't you see8 ,hush6 ,look6 ,in my tree1 ,i'm as happy as happy can be6 ,and the brown thrush keeps singing1 ,a nest do you see1 ,and five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree8 ,don't meddle6 don't touch6 little girl1 little boy1 ,or the world will lose some of its joy6 ,now ,i'm glad6 now ,i'm free6 ,and ,i always shall be1 ,if you never bring sorrow to me4 ,so the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree1 ,to you and to me1 to you and to me2 ,and he sings all the day1 little girl1 little boy1 ,oh1 the world's running over with joy2 ,but long it won't be1 ,don't you know8 don't you see8 ,unless we are as good as can be6 ,lucy ,larcom4 ,the ,quality of ,mercy 7,from1 ,the ,merchant of ,venice7 ,the quality of mercy is not strain'd4 ,it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven ,upon the place beneath4 ,it is twice bless'd3 ,it blesseth him that gives and him that takes4 ',tis mightiest in the mightiest2 it becomes ,the throned monarch better than his crown4 ,his sceptre shows the force of temporal power1 ,the attribute to awe and majesty1 ,wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings2 ,but mercy is above this sceptred sway2 ,it is enthroned in the hearts of kings2 ,it is an attribute to ,god himself2 ,and earthly power doth then show likest ,god's ,when mercy seasons justice4 ,therefore1 ,jew1 ,though justice be thy plea1 consider this1 ,that1 in the course of justice1 none of us ,should see salvation3 we do pray for mercy2 ,and that same prayer doth teach us all to render ,the deeds of mercy4 ,william ,shakespeare4 ,don't ,give ,up ,if you've tried and have not won1 ,never stop for crying2 ,all's that's great and good is done ,just by patient trying4 ,though young birds1 in flying1 fall1 ,still their wings grow stronger2 ,and the next time they can keep ,up a little longer4 ,though the sturdy oak has known ,many a blast that bowed her1 ,she has risen again1 and grown ,loftier and prouder4 ,if by easy work you beat1 ,who the more will prize you8 ,gaining victory from defeat1-- ,that's the test that tries you6 ,phoebe ,cary4 ,incident of the ,french ,camp ,you know we ,french stormed ,ratisbon3 ,a mile or so away ,on a little mound1 ,napoleon ,stood on our storming-day2 ,with neck out-thrust1 you fancy how1 ,legs wide1 arms locked behind1 ,as if to balance the prone brow1 ,oppressive with its mind4 ,just as perhaps he mused1 ,my plans ,that soar1 to earth may fall1 ,let once my army-leader ,lannes ,waver at yonder wall1-- ,out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew ,a rider1 bound on bound ,full-galloping2 nor bridle drew ,until he reached the mound4 ,then off there flung in smiling joy1 ,and held himself erect ,by just his horse's mane1 a boy3 ,you hardly could suspect-- 7,so tight he kept his lips compressed1 ,scarce any blood came through7 ,you looked twice ere you saw his breast ,was all but shot in two4 ,well1 cried he1 ,emperor1 by ,god's grace ,we've got you ,ratisbon6 ,the ,marshall's in the market-place1 ,and you'll be there anon ,to see your flag-bird flap his vans ,where ,i1 to heart's desire1 ,perched him6 ,the chief's eye flashed2 his plans ,soared up again like fire4 ,the chief's eye flashed2 but presently ,softened itself1 as sheathes ,a film the mother-eagle's eye ,when her bruised eaglet breathes2 ,you're wounded6 ,nay1 his soldier's pride ,touched to the quick1 he said3 ,i'm killed1 ,sire6 ,and his chief beside1 ,smiling1 the boy fell dead4 ,robert ,browning4 ,the ,bugle ,song 7,from ,the ,princess7 ,the splendor falls on castle walls ,and snowy summits old in story3 ,the long light shakes across the lakes1 ,and the wild cataract leaps in glory4 ,blow1 bugle1 blow1 set the wild echoes flying1 ,blow1 bugle2 answer1 echoes1 dying1 dying1 dying4 ,o hark1 ,o hear6 how thin and clear1 ,and thinner1 clearer1 farther going6 ,o sweet and far from cliff and scar,a ,the horns of ,elfland faintly blowing6 ,blow1 let us hear the purple glens replying3 ,blow1 bugle2 answer1 echoes1 dying1 dying1 dying4 ,o love1 they die in yon rich sky1 ,they faint on hill or field or river3 ,our echoes roll from soul to soul1 ,and grow for ever and for ever4 ,blow bugle1 blow1 set the wild echoes flying1 ,and answer1 echoes1 answer1 dying1 dying1 dying4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,footnote ,a3 ,scar1 a deep bank4 ,a ,child's ,thought of ,god ,they say that ,god lives very high2 ,but if you look above the pines ,you cannot see our ,god2 and why8 ,and if you dig down in the mines1 ,you never see him in the gold1 ,though from ,him all that's glory shines4 ,god is so good1 ,he wears a fold ,of heaven and earth across ,his face1 ,like secrets kept for love untold4 ,but still ,i feel that ,his embrace ,slides down by thrills through all things made1 ,through sight and sound of every place2 ,as if my tender mother laid ,on my shut lips her kisses' pressure1 ,half waking me at night1 and said1 ,who kissed you through the dark1 dear guesser8 ,elizabeth ,barrett ,browning4 ,the ,blue and ,the ,gray ,by the flow of the inland river1 ,where the fleets of iron have fled1 ,where the blades of grave grass quiver1 ,asleep are the ranks of the dead2 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ,under the one1 the ,blue2 ,under the other1 the ,gray4 ,these in the robings of glory1 ,those in the gloom of defeat1 ,all1 with the battle blood gory1 ,in the dusk of eternity meet2 ,under the sod and the dew1-- ,waiting the judgment day-- ,under the laurel1 the ,blue2 ,under the willow1 the ,gray4 ,from the silence of sorrowful hours ,the desolate mourners go1 ,lovingly laden with flowers ,alike for the friend and the foe2 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ,under the roses1 the ,blue2 ,under the lilies1 the ,gray4 ,so with an equal splendor ,the morning sun-rays fall1 ,with a touch impartially tender1 ,on the blossoms blooming for all2 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ',broidered with gold1 the ,blue2 ,mellowed with gold1 the ,gray4 ,so1 when the summer calleth1 ,on forest and field of grain ,with an equal murmur falleth ,the cooling drip of the rain2 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ,wet with the rain1 the ,blue2 ,wet with the rain1 the ,gray4 ,sadly1 but not with upbraiding1 ,the generous deed was done2 ,in the storm of the years that are fading4 ,no braver battle was won2 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ,under the blossoms1 the ,blue2 ,under the garlands1 the ,gray4 ,no more shall the war-cry sever1 ,or the winding rivers be red2 ,they banish our anger forever ,when they laurel the graves of our dead6 ,under the sod and the dew1 ,waiting the judgment day-- ,love and tears for the ,blue2 ,tears and love for the ,gray4 ,francis ,miles ,finch4 ,good ,night and ,good ,morning ,a fair little girl sat under a tree1 ,sewing as long as her eyes could see1 ,then smoothed her work1 and folded it right1 ,and said1 ,dear work1 good night1 good night6 ,such a number of rooks came over her head1 ,crying ,caw1 caw1 on their way to bed2 ,she said1 as she watched their curious flight1 ,little black things1 good night1 good night6 ,the horses neighed1 and the oxen lowed1 ,the sheep's bleat1 bleat came over the road1 ,and all seemed to say1 with a quiet delight1 ,good little girl1 good night1 good night6 ,she did not say to the sun ,good night1 ,tho' she saw him there like a ball of light2 ,for she knew he had ,god's own time to keep ,all over the world1 and never could sleep4 ,the tall pink foxglove bowed his head1 ,the violets curtseyed and went to bed2 ,and good little ,lucy tied up her hair1 ,and said1 on her knees1 her favorite prayer4 ,and1 while on her pillow she softly lay1 ,she knew nothing more till again it was day2 ,and all things said to the beautiful sun1 ,good morning1 good morning1 our work is begun6 ,lord ,houghton4 ,lady ,moon ,lady ,moon1 ,lady ,moon1 where are you roving8 ,over the sea4 ,lady ,moon1 ,lady ,moon1 whom are you loving8 ,all that love me4 ,are you not tired with rolling and never ,resting to sleep8 ,why look so pale and so sad1 as for ever ,wishing to weep8 ,ask me not this1 little child1 if you love me2 ,you are too bold ,i must obey my dear ,father above me1 ,and do as ,i'm told4 ,lady ,moon1 ,lady ,moon1 where are you roving8 ,over the sea4 ,lady ,moon1 ,lady ,moon1 whom are you loving8 ,all that love me4 ,lord ,houghton4 ,breathes ,there the ,man ,with ,soul ,so ,dead8 7,from ,the ,lay of the ,last ,minstrel7 ,breathes there the man with soul so dead ,who never to himself hath said1 ,this is my own1 my native land8 ,whose heart hath ne'er within him burned1 ,as home his footsteps he hath turned ,from wandering on a foreign strand8 ,if such there breathe1 go1 mark him well2 ,for him no minstrel raptures swell2 ,high though his titles1 proud his name1 ,boundless his wealth as wish can claim1-- ,despite those titles1 power1 and pelf1 ,the wretch1 concentred all in self1 ,living1 shall forfeit fair renown1 ,and1 doubly dying1 shall go down ,to the vile dust from whence he sprung1 ,unwept1 unhonored and unsung4 ,sir ,walter ,scott4 ,pippa's ,song ,the year's at the spring1 ,and day's at the morn2 ,morning's at seven2 ,the hillside's dew-pearled2 ,the lark's on the wing2 ,the snail's on the thorn2 ,god's in ,his heaven-- ,all's right with the world6 ,robert ,browning4 ,twinkle1 ,twinkle1 ,little ,star ,twinkle1 twinkle1 little star2 ,how ,i wonder what you are6 ,up above the world so high1 ,like a diamond in the sky4 ,when the glorious sun is set1 ,when the grass with dew is wet1 ,then you show your little light1 ,twinkle1 twinkle1 all the night4 ,in the dark blue sky you keep1 ,and often through my curtains peep2 ,for you never shut your eye ,till the sun is in the sky4 ,as your bright and tiny spark ,lights the traveler in the dark1 ,though ,i know not what you are1 ,twinkle1 twinkle1 little star4 ,jane ,taylor4 ,crossing the ,bar ,sunset and evening star1 ,and one clear call for me6 ,and may there be no moaning of the bar1 ,when ,i put out to sea1 ,but such a tide as moving seems asleep1 ,too full for sound and foam1 ,when that which drew from out the boundless deep ,turns again home4 ,twilight and evening bell1 ,and after that the dark6 ,and may there be no sadness of farewell1 ,when ,i embark2 ,for tho' from out our bourne of ,time and ,place ,the flood may bear me far1 ,i hope to see my ,pilot face to face ,when ,i have crost the bar4 ,alfred1 ,lord ,tennyson4 ,the ,tree ,the ,tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown2 ,shall ,i take them away8 said the ,frost1 sweeping down4 ,no1 leave them alone ,till the blossoms have grown1 ,prayed the ,tree1 while he trembled from rootlet to crown4 ,the ,tree bore his blossoms1 and all the birds sung3 ,shall ,i take them away8 said the ,wind1 as he swung1 ,no1 leave them alone ,till the blossoms have grown1 ,said the ,tree1 while his leaflets quivering hung4 ,the ,tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow3 ,said the child1 ,may ,i gather thy berries now8 ,yes1 all thou canst see3 ,take them2 all are for thee1 ,said the ,tree1 while he bent down his laden boughs low4 ,bjorrstjerne ,bjornson4 ,the ,fountain ,into the sunshine1 ,full of the light1 ,leaping and flashing ,from morn till night2 ,into the moonlight1 ,whiter than snow1 ,waving so flower-like ,when the winds blow2 ,into the starlight ,rushing in spray1 ,happy at midnight1 ,happy by day2 ,ever in motion1 ,blithesome and cheery1 ,still climbing heavenward1 ,never aweary2 ,glad of all weathers1 ,still seeming best1 ,upward or downward1 ,motion thy rest2 ,full of a nature ,nothing can tame1 ,changed every moment1 ,ever the same2 ,ceaseless aspiring1 ,ceaseless content1 ,darkness or sunshine ,thy element2 ,glorious fountain1 ,let my heart be ,fresh1 changeful1 constant1 ,upward1 like thee6 ,james ,russell ,lowell4 ,the ,leak in the ,dike ,the good dame looked from her cottage ,at the close of the pleasant day1 ,and cheerily called to her little son1 ,outside the door at play3 ,come1 ,peter1 come6 ,i want you to go1 ,while there is light to see4 ,to the hut of the blind old man who lives ,across the dike1 for me2 ,and take these cakes ,i made for him-- ,they are hot and smoking yet2 ,you have time enough to go and come ,before the sun is set4 ,then the good-wife turned to her labor1 ,humming a simple song1 ,and thought of her husband1 working hard ,at the sluices all day long2 ,and set the turf a-blazing1 ,and brought the coarse black bread1 ,that he might find a fire at night ,and find the table spread4 ,and ,peter left the brother ,with whom all day he had played1 ,and the sister who had watched their sports ,in the willow's tender shade2 ,and told them they'd see him back before ,they saw a star in sight1 ,though he wouldn't be afraid to go ,in the very darkest night6 ,for he was a brave1 bright fellow1 ,with eye and conscience clear2 ,he could do whatever a boy might do1 ,and he had not learned to fear4 ,why1 he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest1 ,nor brought a stork to harm1 ,though never a law in ,holland ,had stood to stay his arm6 ,and now with his face all glowing1 ,and eyes as bright as the day ,with the thoughts of his pleasant errand1 ,he trudged along the way2 ,and soon his joyous prattle ,made glad a lonesome place-- ,alas6 if only the blind old man1 ,could have seen that happy face6 ,yet he somehow caught the brightness ,which his voice and presence lent2 ,and he felt the sunshine come and go ,as ,peter came and went4 ,and now1 as the day was sinking1 ,and the winds began to rise1 ,the mother looked from her door again1 ,shading her anxious eyes1 ,and saw the shadows deepen ,and birds to their homes come back1 ,but never a sign of ,peter ,along the level track4 ,but she said1 ,he will come at morning1 ,so ,i need not fret nor grieve-- ,though it isn't like my boy at all ,to stay without my leave4 ,but where was the child delaying8 ,on the homeward way was he1 ,across the dike while the sun was up ,an hour above the sea4 ,he was stopping now to gather flowers1 ,now listening to the sound1 ,as the angry waters dashed themselves ,against their narrow bound4 ,ah6 well for us1 said ,peter1 ,that the gates are good and strong1 ,and my father tends them carefully1 ,or they would not hold you long6 ,you're a wicked sea1 said ,peter1 ,i know why you fret and chafe2 ,you would like to spoil our lands and homes1 ,but our sluices keep you safe6 ,but hark6 ,through the noise of waters ,comes a low1 clear1 trickling sound2 ,and the child's face pales with terror1 ,and his blossoms drop to the ground1 ,he is up the bank in a moment1 ,and1 stealing through the sand1 ,he sees a stream not yet so large ,as his slender1 childish hand4 ',tis a leak in the dike6 ,he is but a boy1 ,unused to fearful scenes2 ,but1 young as he is1 he has learned to know ,the dreadful thing that means4 ,a leak in the dike6 ,the stoutest heart ,grows faint that cry to hear1 ,and the bravest man in all the land ,turns white with mortal fear2 ,for he knows the smallest leak may grow ,to a flood in a single night2 ,and he knows the strength of the cruel sea ,when loosed in its angry might4 ,and the boy6 ,he has seen the danger ,and shouting a wild alarm1 ,he forces back the weight of the sea ,with the strength of his single arm6 ,he listens for the joyful sound ,of a footstep passing nigh2 ,and lays his ear to the ground1 to catch ,the answer to his cry4 ,and he hears the rough winds blowing1 ,and the waters rise and fall1 ,but never an answer comes to him ,save the echo of his call4 ,he sees no hope1 no succor1 ,his feeble voice is lost2 ,yet what shall he do but watch and wait1 ,though he perish at his post6 ,so1 faintly calling and crying ,till the sun is under the sea2 ,crying and moaning till the stars ,come out for company2 ,he thinks of his brother and sister1 ,asleep in their safe warm bed2 ,he thinks of his father and mother1 ,of himself as dying--and dead2 ,and of how1 when the night is over1 ,they must come and find him at last2 ,but he never thinks he can leave the place ,where duty holds him fast4 ,the good dame in the cottage ,is up and astir with the light1 ,for the thought of her little ,peter ,has been with her all night4 ,and now she watches the pathway1 ,as yester eve she had done2 ,but what does she see so strange and black ,against the rising sun8 ,her neighbors are bearing between them ,something straight to her door2 ,her child is coming home1 but not ,as he ever came before6 ,he is dead6 she cries1 my darling6 ,and the startled father hears4 ,and comes and looks the way she looks1 ,and fears the thing she fears2 ,till a glad shout from the bearers ,thrills the stricken man and wife-- ,give thanks1 for your son1 has saved our land1 ,and ,god has saved his life6 ,so1 there in the morning sunshine ,they knelt about the boy2 ,and every head was bared and bent ,in tearful1 reverent joy4 ',tis many a year since then1 but still1 ,when the sea roars like a flood1 ,their boys are taught what a boy can do ,who is brave and true and good2 ,for every man in that country ,takes his son by the hand1 ,and tells him of little ,peter ,whose courage saved the land4 ,they have many a valiant hero ,remembered through the years2 ,but never one whose name so oft ,is named with loving tears2 ,and his deed shall be sung by the cradle1 ,and told to the child on the knee1 ,so long as the dikes of ,holland ,divide the land from the sea6 ,phoebe ,cary4 ,robert of ,lincoln ,merrily swinging on briar and weed1 ,near to the nest of his little dame1 ,over the mountain-side or mead1 ,robert of ,lincoln is telling his name3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,snug and safe is that nest of ours1 ,hidden among the summer flowers4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,robert of ,lincoln is gaily drest1 ,wearing a bright black wedding coat2 ,white are his shoulders and white his crest1 ,hear him call in his merry note3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,look1 what a nice new coat is mine1 ,sure there was never a bird so fine4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,robert of ,lincoln's ,quaker wife1 ,pretty and quiet1 with plain brown wings1 ,passing at home a patient life1 ,broods in the grass while her husband sings3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,brood1 kind creature2 you need not fear ,thieves and robbers while ,i am here4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,modest and shy as a nun is she2 ,one weak chirp is her only note4 ,braggart and prince of braggarts is he1 ,pouring boasts from his little throat3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,never was ,i afraid of man2 ,catch me1 cowardly knaves1 if you can4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,six white eggs on a bed of hay1 ,flecked with purple1 a pretty sight6 ,there as the mother sits all day1 ,robert is singing with all his might3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,nice1 good wife1 that never goes out1 ,keeping the house while ,i frolic about4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,soon as the little ones chip the shell ,six wide mouths are open for food2 ,robert of ,lincoln bestirs him well1 ,gathering seeds for the hungry brood4 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,this new life is likely to be ,hard for a gay young fellow like me4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,robert of ,lincoln at length is made ,sober with work1 and silent with care2 ,off is his holiday garment laid1 ,half forgotten that merry air1 ,bob-o'-link1 ,bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,nobody knows but my mate and ,i ,where our nest and our nestlings lie4 ,chee1 chee1 chee4 ,summer wanes2 the children are grown2 ,fun and frolic no more he knows2 ,robert of ,lincoln's a humdrum crone2 ,off he flies1 and we sing as he goes3 ,bob-o'-link1 bob-o'-link1 ,spink1 spank1 spink2 ,when you can pipe that merry old strain1 ,robert of ,lincoln1 come back again4 ,chee1 chee1 chee1 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,wishing ,ring-,ting6 ,i wish ,i were a ,primrose1 ,a bright yellow ,primrose1 blowing in the spring6 ,the stooping boughs above me1 ,the wandering bee to love me1 ,the fern and moss to creep across1 ,and the ,elm tree for our king6 ,nay--stay6 ,i wish ,i were an ,elm tree1 ,a great1 lofty ,elm tree1 with green leaves gay6 ,the winds would set them dancing1 ,the sun and moonshine glance in1 ,the birds would house among the boughs1 ,and sweetly sing4 ,oh no6 ,i wish ,i were a ,robin1 ,a ,robin or a little ,wren1 everywhere to go2 ,through forest1 field1 or garden1 ,and ask no leave or pardon1 ,till winter comes with icy thumbs ,to ruffle up our wing6 ,well--tell6 ,where should ,i fly to1 ,where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell8 ,before a day was over1 ,home comes the rover4 ,for mother's kiss--sweeter this ,than any other thing4 ,william ,allingham4 ,the ,burial of ,sir ,john ,moore at ,corunna ,not a drum was heard1 not a funeral note1 ,as his corse to the rampart we hurried2 ,not a soldier discharged his farewell shot ,o'er the grave where our hero we buried4 ,we buried him darkly at dead of night1 ,the sods with our bayonets turning2 ,by struggling moonbeam's misty light1 ,and the lantern dimly burning4 ,no useless coffin enclosed his breast1 ,nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him2 ,but he lay like a warrior taking his rest1 ,with his martial cloak around him4 ,few and short were the prayers we said1 ,and we spoke not a word of sorrow2 ,but we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead1 ,and we bitterly thought of the morrow4 ,we thought1 as we hollowed his narrow bed1 ,and smoothed down his lonely pillow1 ,that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head2 ,and we far away on the billow6 ,lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone1 ,and o'er his cold ashes upbraid him2 ,but little he'll reck2 if they let him sleep on ,in the grave where a ,briton has laid him4 ,but half of our heavy task was done1 ,when the clock tolled the hour for retiring2 ,and we heard the distant and random gun ,that the foe was sullenly firing4 ,slowly and sadly we laid him down4 ,from the field of his fame fresh and gory2 ,we carved not a line1 and we raised not a stone1 ,but we left him alone with his glory6 ,charles ,wolfe4 ,how ,many ,seconds in a ,minute8 ,how many seconds in a minute8 ,sixty1 and no more in it4 ,how many minutes in an hour8 ,sixty for sun and shower4 ,how many hours in a day8 ,twenty-four for work and play4 ,how many days in a week8 ,seven both to hear and speak4 ,how many weeks in a month8 ,four1 as the swift moon runn'th4 ,how many months in a year8 ,twelve1 the almanack makes clear4 ,how many years in an age8 ,one hundred1 says the sage4 ,how many ages in time8 ,no one knows the rhyme4 ,christina ,g4 ,rossetti4 ,to-day ,here hath been dawning another blue day3 ,think1 wilt thou let it slip useless away8 ,out of ,eternity this new day was born2 ,into ,eternity1 at night1 will return4 ,behold it aforetime no eye ever did2 ,so soon it forever from all eyes is hid4 ,here hath been dawning another blue day3 ,think1 wilt thou let it slip useless away8 ,thomas ,carlyle4 ,the ,wind and the ,moon ,said the ,wind to the ,moon1 ,i will blow you out4 ,you stare ,in the air ,like a ghost in a chair1 ,always looking what ,i am about2 ,i hate to be watched--,i will blow you out4 ,the ,wind blew hard1 and out went the ,moon4 ,so deep1 ,on a heap ,of clouds1 to sleep1 ,down lay the ,wind1 and slumbered soon-- ,muttering low1 ,i've done for that ,moon4 ,he turned in his bed2 she was there again6 ,on high ,in the sky ,with her one clear eye1 ,the ,moon shone white and alive and plain4 ,said the ,wind--,i will blow you out again4 ,the ,wind blew hard1 and the ,moon grew dim4 ,with my sledge ,and my wedge ,i have knocked off her edge6 ,if only ,i blow right fierce and grim1 ,the creature will soon be dimmer than dim4 ,he blew and blew1 and she thinned to a thread4 ,one puff ,more's enough ,to blow her to snuff6 ,one good puff more where the last was bred1 ,and glimmer1 glimmer1 glum will go the thread6 ,he blew a great blast1 and the thread was gone2 ,in the air ,nowhere ,was a moonbeam bare2 ,far off and harmless the shy stars shone2 ,sure and certain the ,moon was gone4 ,the ,wind1 he took to his revels once more2 ,on down ,in town1 ,like a merry-mad clown1 ,he leaped and halloed with whistle and roar1 ,what's that8 ,the glimmering thread once more6 ,he flew in a rage--he danced and blew2 ,but in vain ,was the pain ,of his bursting brain2 ,for still the broader the ,moon-scrap grew1 ,the broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew4 ,slowly she grew--till she filled the night1 ,and shone ,on her throne ,in the sky alone1 ,a matchless1 wonderful1 silvery light1 ,radiant and lovely1 the ,queen of the ,night4 ,said the ,wind--,what a marvel of power am ,i6 ,with my breath1 ,good faith6 ,i blew her to death-- ,first blew her away right out of the sky-- ,then blew her in2 what a strength have ,i6 ,but the ,moon1 she knew nothing about the affair1 ,for1 high ,in the sky1 ,with her one white eye ,motionless1 miles above the air1 ,she had never heard the great ,wind blare4 ,george ,macdonald4 ,the ,little ,plant ,in the heart of a seed1 ,buried deep1 so deep1 ,a dear little plant ,lay fast asleep6 ,wake6 said the sunshine1 ,and creep to the light6 ,wake6 said the voice ,of the raindrop bright4 ,the little plant heard ,and it rose to see ,what the wonderful ,outside world might be4 ,kate ,l4 ,brown4 ,paul ,revere's ,ride ,listen1 my children1 and you shall hear ,of the midnight ride of ,paul ,revere1 ,on the eighteenth of ,april1 in ,seventy-five2 ,hardly a man is now alive ,who remembers that famous day and year4 ,he said to his friend1 ,if the ,british march ,by land or sea from the town tonight1 ,hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch ,of the ,north ,church tower1 as a signal light1-- ,one1 if by land1 and two1 if by sea2 ,and ,i on the opposite shore will be1 ,ready to ride and spread the alarm ,through every ,middlesex village and farm1 ,for the country folk to be up and to arm4 ,then he said1 ,good-night2 and with muffled oar ,silently rowed to the ,charlestown shore1 ,just as the moon rose over the bay1 ,where1 swinging wide at her moorings1 lay ,the ,somerset1 ,british man-of-war1 ,a phantom ship1 with each mast and spar ,across the moon like a prison bar1 ,and a huge black hulk1 that was magnified ,by its own reflection in the tide4 ,meanwhile1 his friend through alley and street ,wanders and watches with eager ears1 ,till1 in the silence around him1 he hears ,the muster of men at the barrack door1 ,the sound of arms1 and the tramp of feet1 ,and the measured tread of the grenadiers ,marching down to their boats on the shore4 ,then he climbed to the tower of the old ,north ,church1 ,by the wooden stairs1 with stealthy tread1 ,to the belfry chamber overhead1 ,and startled the pigeons from their perch ,on the sombre rafters1 that round him made ,masses and moving shapes of shade2 ,by the trembling ladder1 steep and tall1 ,to the highest window in the wall1 ,where he paused to listen1 and look down ,a moment on the roofs of the town1 ,and the moonlight flowing over all4 ,beneath1 in the churchyard1 lay the dead ,in their night encampment on the hill1 ,wrapped in silence so deep and still ,that he could hear1 like a sentinel's tread1 ,the watchful night wind1 as it went1 ,creeping along from tent to tent1 ,and seeming to whisper1 ,all is well6 ,a moment only he feels the spell ,of the place and hour1 and the secret dread ,of the lonely belfry and the dead1 ,for suddenly all his thoughts are bent ,on a shadowy something far away1 ,where the river widens to meet the bay1 ,a line of black1 that bends and floats ,on the rising tide1 like a bridge of boats4 ,meanwhile1 impatient to mount and ride1 ,booted and spurred1 with a heavy stride ,on the opposite shore walked ,paul ,revere4 ,now he patted his horse's side1 ,now gazed on the landscape far and near1 ,then impetuous stamped the earth1 ,and turned and tightened his saddle girth2 ,but mostly he watched with eager search ,the belfry tower of the old ,north ,church1 ,as it rose above the graves on the hill1 ,lonely and spectral1 and sombre and still4 ,and lo6 as he looks1 on the belfry's height ,a glimmer1 and then a gleam of light6 ,he springs to the saddle1 the bridle he turns1 ,but lingers and gazes1 till full on his sight ,a second lamp in the belfry burns4 ,a harry of hoofs in a village street1 ,a shape in the moonlight1 a bulk in the dark1 ,and beneath from the pebbles1 in passing1 a spark ,struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet2 ,that was all6 ,and yet1 through the gloom and the light1 ,the fate of a nation was riding that night2 ,and the spark struck out by that steed1 in his flight1 ,kindled the land into flame with its heat4 ,he has left the village and mounted the steep1 ,and beneath him1 tranquil and broad and deep1 ,is the ,mystic1 meeting the ocean tides2 ,and under the alders1 that skirt its edge1 ,now soft on the sand1 now loud on the ledge1 ,is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides4 ,it was twelve by the village clock ,when he crossed the bridge into ,medford town4 ,he heard the crowing of the cock1 ,and the barking of the farmer's dog1 ,and felt the damp of the river fog1 ,that rises after the sun goes down4 ,it was one by the village clock ,when he galloped into ,lexington1 ,he saw the gilded weathercock ,swim in the moonlight as he passed1 ,and the meeting house windows1 blank and bare1 ,gaze at him with a spectral glare ,as if they already stood aghast ,at the bloody work they would look upon4 ,it was two by the village clock ,when he came to the bridge in ,concord town4 ,he heard the bleating of the flock1 ,and the twittering of birds among the trees1 ,and felt the breath of the morning breeze ,blowing over the meadows brown4 ,and one was safe and asleep in his bed ,who at the bridge would be first to fall1 ,who that day would be lying dead1 ,pierced by a ,british musket ball4 ,you know the rest4 ,in the books you have read ,how the ,british regulars fired and fled-- ,how the farmers gave them ball for ball1 ,from behind each fence and farmyard wall1 ,chasing the red coats down the lane1 ,then crossing the fields to emerge again ,under the trees at the turn of the road1 ,and only pausing to fire and load4 ,so through the night rode ,paul ,revere2 ,and so through the night went his cry of alarm ,to every ,middlesex village and farm-- ,a cry of defiance1 and not of fear-- ,a voice in the darkness1 a knock at the door1 ,and a word that shall echo forever-more2 ,for borne on the night wind of the past1 ,through all our history to the last1 ,in the hour of darkness and peril and need1 ,the people will waken and listen to hear ,the hurrying hoof beats of that steed1 ,and the midnight message of ,paul ,revere4 ,henry ,w4 ,longfellow4 ,in ,flanders ,fields ,in ,flanders fields the poppies grow ,between the crosses1 row on row1 ,that mark our place2 and in the sky ,the larks1 still bravely singing1 fly1 ,scarce heard amid the guns below4 ,we are the dead4 ,short days ago ,we lived1 felt dawn1 saw sunset glow1 ,loved and were loved2 and now we lie ,in ,flanders fields4 ,take up our quarrel with the foe6 ,to you1 from failing hands1 we throw ,the torch4 ,be yours to hold it high6 ,if ye break faith with us who die1 ,we shall not sleep1 though poppies blow ,in ,flanders fields4 ,john ,mc,crae4 ,in ,flanders ,fields3 ,an ,answer ,in ,flanders fields the cannon boom ,and fitful flashes light the gloom1 ,while up above1 like eagles1 fly ,the fierce destroyers of the sky2 ,with stains the earth wherein you lie ,is redder than the poppy bloom1 ,in ,flanders fields4 ,sleep on1 ye brave4 ,the shrieking shell1 ,the quaking trench1 the startled yell1 ,the fury of the battle hell ,shall wake you not2 for all is well4 ,sleep peacefully2 for all is well4 ,your flaming torch aloft we bear1 ,with burning heart an oath we swear ,to keep the faith1 to fight it through1 ,to crush the foe1 or sleep with you ,in ,flanders fields4 ,c4,b4 ,galbreath4 ,little ,boy ,blue ,the little toy dog is covered with dust1 ,but sturdy and stanch he stands2 ,and the little toy soldier is red with rust1 ,and his musket moulds in his hands4 ,time was when the little toy dog was new ,and the soldier was passing fair1 ,and that was the time when our ,little ,boy ,blue ,kissed them and put them there4 ,now1 don't you go till ,i come1 he said1 ,and don't you make any noise6 ,so toddling off to his trundle-bed ,he dreamt of the pretty toys4 ,and as he was dreaming1 an angel song ,awakened our ,little ,boy ,blue1-- ,oh1 the years are many1 the years are long1 ,but the little toy friends are true4 ,ay1 faithful to ,little ,boy ,blue they stand1 ,each in the same old place1 ,awaiting the touch of a little hand1 ,the smile of a little face4 ,and they wonder1 as waiting these long years through1 ,in the dust of that little chair1 ,what has become of our little ,boy ,blue ,since he kissed them and put them there4 ,eugene ,field4 ,thanatopsis ,to him who in the love of ,nature holds ,communion with her visible forms1 she speaks ,a various language2 for his gayer hours ,she has a voice of gladness1 and a smile ,and eloquence of beauty1 and she glides ,into his darker musings with a mild ,and healing sympathy1 that steals away ,their sharpness1 ere he is aware4 ,when thoughts ,of the last bitter hoar come like a blight ,over thy spirit1 and sad images ,of the stern agony1 and shroud1 and pall1 ,and breathless darkness1 and the narrow house1 ,make thee to shudder1 and grow sick at heart2-- ,go forth1 under the open sky1 and list ,to ,nature's teachings1 while from all around-- ,earth and her waters1 and the depths of air1-- ,comes a still voice--,yet a few days1 and thee ,the all-beholding sun shall see no more ,in all his course2 nor yet in the cold ground1 ,where thy pale form was laid with many tears4 ,nor in the embrace of ocean1 shall exist ,thy image4 ,earth1 that nourished thee1 shall claim ,thy growth1 to be resolved to earth again1 ,and1 lost each human trace1 surrendering up ,thine individual being1 shalt thou go ,to mix forever with the elements1 ,to be a brother to the insensible rock ,and to the sluggish clod1 which the rude swain ,turns with his share1 and treads upon4 ,the oak ,shall send his roots abroad1 and pierce thy mould4 ,yet not to thine eternal resting-place ,shalt thou retire alone--nor couldst thou wish ,couch more magnificent4 ,thou shalt lie down ,with patriarchs of the infant world--with kings4 ,the powerful of the earth--the wise1 the good1 ,fair forms1 and hoary seers of ages past1 ,all in one mighty sepulchre4 ,the hills1 ,rock-ribbed1 and ancient as the sun1--the vales ,stretching in pensive quietness between2 ,the venerable woods--rivers that move ,in majesty1 and the complaining brooks ,that make the meadows green2 and1 poured round all1 ,old ocean's gray and melancholy waste1-- ,are but the solemn decorations all ,of the great tomb of man4 ,the golden sun1 ,the planets1 all the infinite host of heaven1 ,are shining on the sad abodes of death1 ,through the still lapse of ages4 ,all that tread ,the globe are but a handful to the tribes ,that slumber in its bosom4 ,take the wings ,of morning1 pierce the ,barcan wilderness1 ,or lose thyself in the continuous woods ,where rolls the ,oregon1 and hears no sound1 ,save his own dashings--yet1 the dead are there2 ,and millions in those solitudes1 since first ,the flight of years began1 have laid them down ,in their last sleep--the dead reign there alone4 ,so shalt thou rest1 and what if thou withdraw ,in silence from the living1 and no friend ,take note of thy departure8 ,all that breathe ,will share thy destiny4 ,the gay will laugh ,when thou art gone1 the solemn brood of care ,plod on1 and each one as before will chase ,his favorite phantom2 yet all these shall leave ,their mirth and their employments1 and shall come ,and make their bed with thee4 ,as the long train ,of ages glide away1 the sons of men1-- ,the youth in life's green spring1 and he who goes ,in the full strength of years1 matron1 and maid1 ,and the sweet babe1 and the gray-headed man1-- ,shall one by one be gathered to thy side1 ,by those who in their turn shall follow them4 ,so live1 that when thy summons comes to join ,the innumerable caravan which moves ,to the pale realms of shade1 where each shall take ,his chamber in the silent halls of death1 ,thou go not1 like the quarry-slave at night1 ,scourged to his dungeon1 but1 sustained and soothed ,by an unfaltering trust1 approach thy grave ,like one who wraps the drapery of his couch ,about him1 and lies down to pleasant dreams4 ,william ,cullen ,bryant4 ,the ,first ,settler's ,story ,it ain't the funniest thing a man can do-- ,existing in a country when it's new2 ,nature1 who moved in first--a good long while-- ,has things already somewhat her own style1 ,and she don't want her woodland splendors battered1 ,her rustic furniture broke up and scattered1 ,her paintings1 which long years ago were done ,by that old splendid artist-king1 the sun1 ,torn down and dragged in civilization's gutter1 ,or sold to purchase settlers' bread and butter4 ,she don't want things exposed from porch to closet1 ,and so she kind o' nags the man who does it4 ,she carries in her pockets bags of seeds1 ,as general agent of the thriftiest weeds2 ,she sends her blackbirds1 in the early morn1 ,to superintend his fields of planted corn2 ,she gives him rain past any duck's desire-- ,then maybe several weeks of quiet fire2 ,she sails mosquitoes--leeches perched on wings-- ,to poison him with blood-devouring stings2 ,she loves her ague-muscle to display1 ,and shake him up--say every other day2 ,with1 thoughtful1 conscientious care she makes ,those travelin' poison-bottles1 rattlesnakes2 ,she finds time1 'mongst her other family cares1 ,to keep in stock good wild-cats1 wolves1 and bears4 ,well1 when ,i first infested this retreat1 ,things to my view looked frightful incomplete2 ,but ,i had come with heart-thrift in my song1 ,and brought my wife and plunder right along2 ,i hadn't a round trip ticket to go back1 ,and if ,i had there wasn't no railroad track2 ,and drivin' ,east was what ,i couldn't endure3 ,i hadn't started on a circular tour4 ,my girl-wife was as brave as she was good1 ,and helped me every blessed way she could2 ,she seemed to take to every rough old tree1 ,as sing'lar as when first she took to me4 ,she kep' our little log-house neat as wax1 ,and once ,i caught her fooling with my axe4 ,she learned a hundred masculine things to do3 ,she aimed a shot-gun pretty middlin' true1 ,although in spite of my express desire1 ,she always shut her eyes before she'd fire4 ,she hadn't the muscle 7though she had the heart7 ,in out-door work to take an active part2 ,though in our firm of ,duty and ,endeavor ,she wasn't no silent partner whatsoever4 ,when ,i was logging1 burning1 choppin' wood1 ,she'd linger round and help me all she could1 ,and keep me fresh-ambitious all the while1 ,and lifted tons just with her voice and smile4 ,with no desire my glory for to rob1 ,she used to stan' around and boss the job2 ,and when first-class success my hands befell1 ,would proudly say1 ,we did that pretty well6 ,she was delicious1 both to hear and see-- ,that pretty wife-girl that kep' house for me4 ,well1 neighborhoods meant counties in those days2 ,the roads didn't have accommodating ways2 ,and maybe weeks would pass before she'd see-- ,and much less talk with--any one but me4 ,the ,indians sometimes showed their sun-baked faces1 ,but they didn't teem with conversational graces2 ,some ideas from the birds and trees she stole1 ,but 'twasn't like talking with a human soul2 ,and finally ,i thought that ,i could trace ,a half heart-hunger peering from her face4 ,then she would drive it back and shut the door2 ,of course that only made me see it more4 ',twas hard to see her give her life to mine1 ,making a steady effort not to pine2 ',twas hard to hear that laugh bloom out each minute1 ,and recognize the seeds of sorrow in it4 ,no misery makes a close observer mourn ,like hopeless grief with hopeful courage borne2 ,there's nothing sets the sympathies to paining ,like a complaining woman uncomplaining4 ,it always draws my breath out into sighs ,to see a brave look in a woman's eyes4 ,well1 she went on1 as plucky as could be1 ,fighting the foe she thought ,i did not see1 ,and using her heart-horticultural powers ,to turn that forest to a bed of flowers4 ,you cannot check an unadmitted sigh1 ,and so ,i had to soothe her on the sly1 ,and secretly to help her draw her load2 ,and soon it came to be an up-hill road4 ,hard work bears hard upon the average pulse1 ,even with satisfactory results2 ,but when effects are scarce1 the heavy strain ,falls dead and solid on the heart and brain4 ,and when we're bothered1 it will oft occur ,we seek blame-timber2 and ,i lit on her2 ,and looked at her with daily lessening favor1 ,for what ,i knew she couldn't help1 to save her4 ,and ,discord1 when he once had called and seen us1 ,came round quite often1 and edged in between us4 ,one night1 when ,i came home unusual late1 ,too hungry and too tired to feel first-rate1 ,her supper struck me wrong 7though ,i'll allow ,she hadn't much to strike with1 anyhow72 ,and when ,i went to milk the cows1 and found ,they'd wandered from their usual feeding ground1 ,and maybe'd left a few long miles behind 'em1 ,which ,i must copy1 if ,i meant to find 'em1 ,flash-quick the stay-chains of my temper broke1 ,and in a1 trice these hot words ,i had spoke3 ,you ought to've kept the animals in view1 ,and drove 'em in2 you'd nothing else to do4 ,the heft of all our life on me must fall2 ,you just lie round and let me do it all4 ,that speech--it hadn't been gone a half a minute ,before ,i saw the cold black poison in it2 ,and ,i'd have given all ,i had1 and more1 ,to've only safely got it back in-door4 ,i'm now what most folks well-to-do would call ,i feel to-day as if ,i'd give it all1 ,provided ,i through fifty years might reach ,and kill and bury that half-minute speech4 ,she handed back no words1 as ,i could hear2 ,she didn't frown2 she didn't shed a tear2 ,half proud1 half crushed1 she stood and looked me o'er1 ,like some one she had never seen before6 ,but such a sudden anguish-lit surprise ,i never viewed before in human eyes4 7,i've seen it oft enough since in a dream2 ,it sometimes wakes me like a midnight scream47 ,next morning1 when1 stone-faced1 but heavy-hearted1 ,with dinner pail and sharpened axe ,i started ,away for my day's work--she watched the door4 ,and followed me half way to it or more2 ,and ,i was just a-turning round at this1 ,and asking for my usual good-by kiss2 ,but on her lip ,i saw a proudish curve1 ,and in her eye a shadow of reserve2 ,and she had shown--perhaps half unawares-- ,some little independent breakfast airs2 ,and so the usual parting didn't occur1 ,although her eyes invited me to her6 ,or rather half invited me1 for she ,didn't advertise to furnish kisses free2 ,you always had--that is1 ,i had--to pay ,full market price1 and go more'n half the way4 ,so1 with a short ,good-by1 ,i shut the door1 ,and left her as ,i never had before4 ,but when at noon my lunch ,i came to eat4 ,put up by her so delicately neat-- ,choicer1 somewhat1 than yesterday's had been1 ,and some fresh1 sweet-eyed pansies she'd put in-- ,tender and pleasant thoughts1 ,i knew they meant-- ,it seemed as if her kiss with me she'd sent2 ,then ,i became once more her humble lover1 ,and said1 ,to-night ,i'll ask forgiveness of her4 ,i went home over-early on that eve1 ,having contrived to make myself believe1 ,by various signs ,i kind o' knew and guessed1 ,a thunder-storm was coming from the west4 7',tis strange1 when one sly reason fills the heart1 ,how many honest ones will take its part3 ,a dozen first-class reasons said 'twas right ,that ,i should strike home early on that night47 ,half out of breath1 the cabin door ,i swung1 ,with tender heart-words trembling on my tongue2 ,but all within looked desolate and bare3 ,my house had lost its soul1--she was not there6 ,a penciled note was on the table spread1 ,and these are something like the words it said3 ,the cows have strayed away again1 ,i fear2 ,i watched them pretty close2 don't scold me1 dear4 ,and where they are1 ,i think ,i nearly know3 ,i heard the bell not very long ago4444 ,i've hunted for them all the afternoon2 ,i'll try once more--,i think ,i'll find them soon4 ,dear1 if a burden ,i have been to you1 ,and haven't helped you as ,i ought to do4 ,let old-time memories my forgiveness plead2 ,i've tried to do my best--,i have indeed4 ,darling1 piece out with love the strength ,i lack1 ,and have kind words for me when ,i get back4 ,scarce did ,i give this letter sight and tongue-- ,some swift-blown rain-drops to the window clung1 ,and from the clouds a rough1 deep growl proceeded3 ,my thunder-storm had come1 now 'twasn't needed4 ,i rushed out-door4 ,the air was stained with black3 ,night had come early1 on the storm-cloud's back3 ,and everything kept dimming to the sight1 ,save when the clouds threw their electric light2 ,when for a flash1 so clean-cut was the view1 ,i'd think ,i saw her--knowing 'twas not true4 ,through my small clearing dashed wide sheets of spray1 ,as if the ocean waves had lost their way2 ,scarcely a pause the thunder-battle made1 ,in the bold clamor of its cannonade4 ,and she1 while ,i was sheltered1 dry1 and warm1 ,was somewhere in the clutches of this storm6 ,she who1 when storm-frights found her at her best1 ,had always hid her white face on my breast6 ,my dog1 who'd skirmished round me all the day1 ,now crouched and whimpering1 in a corner lay2 ,i dragged him by the collar to the wall1 ,i pressed his quivering muzzle to a shawl-- ,track her1 old boy6 ,i shouted2 and he whined1 ,matched eyes with me1 as if to read my mind1 ,then with a yell went tearing through the wood1 ,i followed him1 as faithful as ,i could4 ,no pleasure-trip was that1 through flood and flame2 ,we raced with death3 we hunted noble game4 ,all night we dragged the woods without avail2 ,the ground got drenched--we could not keep the trail1 ,three times again my cabin home ,i found1 ,half hoping she might be there1 safe and sound2 ,but each time 'twas an unavailing care3 ,my house had lost its soul2 she was not there6 ,when1 climbing--the wet trees1 next morning-sun4 ,laughed at the ruin that the night had done1 ,bleeding and drenched1 by toil and sorrow bent1 ,back to what used to be my home ,i went4 ,but as ,i neared our little clearing-ground-- ,listen6--,i heard the cow-bell's tinkling sound4 ,the cabin door was just a bit ajar2 ,it gleamed upon my glad eyes like a star1 ,brave heart1 ,i said1 for such a fragile form6 ,she made them guide her homeward through the storm6 ,such pangs of joy ,i never felt before4 ,you've come6 ,i shouted and rushed through the door4 ,yes1 she had come--and gone again4 ,she lay ,with all her young life crushed and wrenched away-- ,lay1 the heart-ruins of oar home among1 ,not far from where ,i killed her with my tongue4 ,the rain-drops glittered 'mid her hair's long strands1 ,the forest thorns had torn her feet and hands1 ,and 'midst the tears--brave tears--that one could trace ,upon the pale but sweetly resolute face1 ,i once again the mournful words could read1 ,i have tried to do my best--,i have1 indeed4 ,and now ,i'm mostly done2 my story's o'er2 ,part of it never breathed the air before4 ',tisn't over-usual1 it must be allowed1 ,to volunteer heart-history to a crowd1 ,and scatter 'mongst them confidential tears1 ,but you'll protect an old man with his years2 ,and wheresoe'er this story's voice can reach1 ,this is the sermon ,i would have it preach3 ,boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds3 ,you can't do that way when you're flying words4 ,careful with fire1 is good advice we know3 ,careful with words1 is ten times doubly so4 ,thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead1 ,but ,god himself can't kill them when they're said6 ,yon have my life-grief3 do not think a minute ',twas told to take up time4 ,there's business in it4 ,it sheds advice3 whoe'er will take and live it1 ,is welcome to the pain it cost to give it4 ,will ,carleton4 ,seein' ,things ,i ain't afeard uv snakes1 or toads1 or bugs1 or worms1 or mice1 ,an' things 'at girls are skeered uv ,i think are awful nice6 ,i'm pretty brave1 ,i guess2 an' yet ,i hate to go to bed1 ,for1 when ,i'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said1 ,mother tells me ,happy dreams6 and takes away the light1 ,an' leaves me lying all alone an' seein' things at night6 ,sometimes they're in the corner1 sometimes they're by the door1 ,sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor2 ,sometimes they are a-sittin' down1 sometimes they're walkin' round ,so softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound6 ,sometimes they are as black as ink1 an' other times they're white-- ,but the color ain't no difference when you see things at night6 ,once1 when ,i licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street1 ,an' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat1 ,i woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row1 ,a-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me--so6 ,oh1 my6 ,i was so skeered that time ,i never slep' a mite-- ,it's almost alluz when ,i'm bad ,i see things at night6 ,lucky thing ,i ain't a girl1 or ,i'd be skeered to death6 ,bein' ,i'm a boy1 ,i duck my head an' hold my breath2 ,an' ,i am1 oh6 so sorry ,i'm a naughty boy1 an' then ,i promise to be better an' ,i say my prayers again6 ,gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right ,when a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night6 ,an' so1 when other naughty boys would coax me into sin1 ,i try to skwush the ,tempter's voice 'at urges me within2 ,an' when they's pie for supper1 or cakes 'at's big an' nice1 ,i want to--but ,i do not pass my plate f'r them things twice6 ,no1 ruther let ,starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight ,than ,i should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night6 ,eugene ,field4 ,the ,raggedy ,man ,oh1 ,the ,raggedy ,man6 ,he works fer ,pa2 ,an' he's the goodest man ever you saw6 ,he comes to our house every day1 ,an' waters the horses1 an' feeds 'em hay2 ,an' he opens the shed--an' we all ist laugh ,when he drives out our little old wobblely calf2 ,an' nen--ef our hired girl says he can-- ,he milks the cows fer ',lizabuth ,ann4-- ,ain't he a' awful good ,raggedy ,man8 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,w'y1 ,the ,raggedy ,man--he's ist so good1 ,he splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood2 ,an' nen he spades in our garden1 too1 ,an' does most things 'at boys can't do4-- ,he clumbed clean up in our big tree ,an' shocked a' apple down fer me-- ,an' 'nother 'n'1 too1 fer ',lizabuth ,ann-- ,an' 'nother 'n'1 too1 fer ,the ,raggedy ,man4-- ,ain't he a' awful kind ,raggedy ,man8 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,an' ,the ,raggedy ,man one time say he ,pick' roast' rambos from a' orchard-tree1 ,an' et 'em--all ist roas' an' hot6 ,an' it's so1 too6--'cause a corn-crib got ,afire one time an' all burn' down ,on ,the ,smoot ,farm1 'bout four mile from town-- ,on ,the ,smoot ,farm6 ,yes--an' the hired han' ',at worked there nen 'uz ,the ,raggedy ,man6 ,ain't he the beanin'est ,raggedy ,man8 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,the ,raggedy ,man's so good an' kind ,he'll be our horsey1 an' ,haw an' mind ,ever'thing 'at you make him do-- ,an' won't run off--'less you want him to6 ,i drived him wunst 'way down our lane ,an' he got skeered1 when it 'menced to rain1 ,an' ist rared up an' squealed and run ,purt' nigh away6--,an' it's all in fun6 ,nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can4 ,whoa6 y' old runaway ,raggedy ,man6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,an' ,the ,raggedy ,man1 he knows most rhymes1 ,an' tells 'em1 ef ,i be good1 sometimes3 ,knows 'bout ,giants1 an' ,griffuns1 an' ,elves1 ,an' the ,squidgicum-,squees 'at swallers the'rselves6 ,an'1 wite by the pump la our pasture-lot1 ,he showed me the hole 'at the ,wunks is got1 ',at lives 'way deep in the ground1 an' can ,turn into me1 er ',lizabuth ,ann6 ,er ,ma1 er ,pa1 er ,the ,raggedy ,man6 ,ain't he a funny old ,raggedy ,man8 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,an' wunst when ,the ,raggedy ,man come late1 ,an' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate1 ,he 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said1 ,old ,bear-shooter'll shoot 'em dead6 ,an' race' an' chase' em1 an' they'd ist run ,when he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun ,an' go ,bang6-,bang6 nen 'tend he stan' ,an' load up his gun ag'in6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,he's an old ,bear-,shooter ,raggedy ,man6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,an' sometimes ,the ,raggedy ,man lets on ,we're little prince-children1 an' old king's gone ,to get more money1 an' lef us there-- ,and ,robbers is ist thick ever'where2 ,an' nen-ef we all won't cry1 fer shore-- ,the ,raggedy ,man he'll come and splore ,the ,castul-halls1 an' steal the gold-- ,and steal us1 too1 an' grab an' hold ,an' pack us off to his old ,cave6-,an' ,haymow's the ,cave o' ,the ,raggedy ,man6-- ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,the ,raggedy ,man--one time1 when he ,wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me1 ,says ,when you're big like your ,pa is1 ,air you go' to keep a fine store like his-- ,an' be a rich merchunt--an' wear fine clothes8-- ,er what air you go' to be1 goodness knows8 ,an' nen he laughed at ',lizabuth ,ann1 ,an' ,i says ',m go' to be a ,raggedy ,man6-- ,i'm ist go' to be a nice ,raggedy ,man6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy6 ,raggedy ,man6 ,james ,whitcomb ,riley4 ,maud ,muller ,maud ,muller1 on a summer's day1 ,raked the meadow sweet with hay4 ,beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth ,of simple beauty and rustic health4 ,singing1 she wrought1 and her merry glee ,the mock-bird echoed from his tree4 ,but when she glanced to the far-off town1 ,white from its hill-slope looking down1 ,the sweet song died1 and a vague unrest ,and a nameless longing filled her breast1-- ,a wish1 that she hardly dared to own1 ,for something better than she had known4 ,the ,judge rode slowly down the lane1 ,smoothing his horse's chestnut mane4 ,he drew his bridle in the shade ,of the apple-trees1 to greet the maid1 ,and asked a draught from the spring that flowed ,through the meadow across the road4 ,she stooped where the cool spring bubbled up1 ,and filled for him her small tin cup1 ,and blushed as she gave it1 looking down ,on her feet so bare1 and her tattered gown4 ,thanks6 said the ,judge2 a sweeter draught ,from a fairer hand was never quaffed4 ,he spoke of the grass and flowers and trees1 ,of the singing birds and the humming' bees2 ,then talked of the haying1 and wondered whether ,the cloud in the west would bring foul weather4 ,and ,maud forgot her brier-torn gown1 ,and her graceful ankles bare and brown2 ,and listened1 while a pleased surprise ,looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes4 ,at last1 like one who for delay ,seeks a vain excuse1 he rode away4 ,maud ,muller looked and sighed3 ,ah1 me6 ,that ,i the ,judge's bride might be6 ,he would dress me up in silks so fine1 ,and praise and toast me at his wine4 ,my father should wear a broadcloth coat2 ,my brother should sail a painted boat4 ,i'd dress my mother1 so grand and gay1 ,and the baby should have a new toy each day4 ,and ,i'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor1 ,and all should bless me who left our door4 ,the ,judge looked back as he climbed the hill1 ,and saw ,maud ,muller standing still4 ,a form more fair1 a face more sweet4 ,ne'er hath it been my lot to meet1 ,and her modest answer and graceful air ,show her wise and good as she is fair4 ,would she were mine1 and ,i to-day1 ,like her1 a harvester of hay3 ,no doubtful balance of rights and1 wrongs ,nor weary lawyers with endless tongues1 ,but low of cattle and song of birds1 ,and health and quiet and loving words4 ,but he thought of his sisters proud and cold1 ,and his mother vain of her rank and gold4 ,so1 closing his heart1 the ,judge rode on1 ,and ,maud was left in the field alone4 ,but the lawyers smiled that afternoon1 ,when he hummed in court an old love-tune2 ,and the young girl mused beside the well ,till the rain on the unraked clover fell4 ,he wedded a wife of richest dower1 ,who lived for fashion1 as he for power4 ,yet oft1 in his marble hearth's bright glow1 ,he watched a picture come and go2 ,and sweet ,maud ,muller's hazel eyes ,looked out in their innocent surprise4 ,oft1 when the wine in his glass was red1 ,he longed for the wayside well instead2 ,and closed his eyes on his garnished rooms ,to dream of meadows and clover-blooms4 ,and the proud man sighed1 with a secret pain1 ,ah1 that ,i were free again6 ,free as when ,i rode that day1 ,where the barefoot maiden raked her hay4 ,she wedded a man unlearned and poor1 ,and many children played round her door4 ,but care and sorrow1 and childbirth pain1 ,left their traces on heart and brain4 ,and oft1 when the summer sun shone hot ,on the new-mown hay in the meadow lot1 ,and she heard the little spring brook fall ,over the roadside1 through the wall1 ,in the shade of the apple-tree again ,she saw a rider draw his rein4 ,and1 gazing down with timid grace1 ,she felt his pleased eyes read her face4 ,sometimes her narrow kitchen walls ,stretched away into stately halls2 ,the weary wheel to a spinnet turned1 ,the tallow candle an astral burned1 ,and for him who sat by the chimney lug1 ,dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug1 ,a manly form at her side she saw1 ,and joy was duty and love was law4 ,then she took up her burden of life again1 ,saying only1 ,it might have been4 ,alas for maiden1 alas for ,judge1 ,for rich repiner and household drudge6 ,god pity them both6 and pity us all1 ,who vainly the dreams of youth recall4 ,for of all sad words of tongue or pen1 ,the saddest are these3 ,it might have been6 ,ah1 well6 for us all some sweet hope lies ,deeply buried from human eyes2 ,and1 in the hereafter1 angels may ,roll the stone from its grave away6 ,john ,g4 ,whittier4 ,sister and ,i ,we were hunting for wintergreen berries1 ,one ,may-day1 long gone by1 ,out on the rocky cliff's edge1 ,little sister and ,i4 ,sister had hair like the sunbeams2 ,black as a crow's wing1 mine2 ,sister had blue1 dove's eyes2 ,wicked1 black eyes are mine4 ,why1 see how my eyes are faded-- ,and my hair1 it is white as snow6 ,and thin1 too6 don't you see it is8 ,i tear it sometimes2 so6 ,there1 don't hold my hands1 ,maggie1 ,i don't feel like tearing it now2 ,but--where was ,i in my story8 ,oh1 ,i was telling you how ,we were looking for wintergreen berries2 ',twas one bright morning in ,may1 ,and the moss-grown rocks were slippery ,with the rains of yesterday4 ,but ,i was cross that morning1 ,though the sun shone ever so bright-- ,and when sister found the most berries1 ,i was angry enough to fight6 ,and when she laughed at my pouting-- ,we were little things1 you know-- ,i clinched my little fist up tight1 ,and struck her the biggest blow6 ,i struck her--,i tell you--,i struck her1 ,and she fell right over below-- ,there1 there1 ,maggie1 ,i won't rave now2 ,you needn't hold me so-- ,she went right over1 ,i tell you1 ,down1 down to the depths below6 ',tis deep and dark and horrid ,there where the waters flow6 ,she fell right over1 moaning1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 so sad1 ,that1 when ,i looked down affrighted1 ,it drove me mad--mad6 ,only her golden hair streaming ,out on the rippling wave1 ,only her little hand reaching ,up1 for someone to save2 ,and she sank down in the darkness1 ,i never saw her again1 ,and this is a chaos of blackness ,and darkness and grief since then4 ,no more playing together ,down on the pebbly strand2 ,nor building our dolls stone castles ,with halls and parlors grand2 ,no more fishing with bent pins1 ,in the little brook's clear waves2 ,no more holding funerals ,o'er dead canaries' graves2 ,no more walking together ,to the log schoolhouse each morn2 ,no more vexing the master ,with putting his rules to scorn2 ,no more feeding of white lambs ,with milk from the foaming pail2 ,no more playing see-saw ,over the fence of rail2 ,no more telling of stories ,after we've gone to bed2 ,nor talking of ghosts and goblins ,till we fairly shiver with dread2 ,no more whispering fearfully ,and hugging each other tight1 ,when the shutters shake and the dogs howl ,in the middle of the night2 ,no more saying ,our ,father1 ,kneeling by mother's knee-- ,for1 ,maggie1 ,i struck sister6 ,and mother is dead1 you see4 ,maggie1 sister's an angel1 ,isn't she8 ,isn't it true8 ,for angels have golden tresses ,and eyes like sister's1 blue8 ,now my hair isn't golden1 ,my eyes aren't blue1 you see-- ,now tell me1 ,maggie1 if ,i were to die1 ,could they make an angel of me8 ,you say1 ,oh1 yes2 you think so8 ,well1 then1 when ,i come to die1 ,we'll play up there1 in ,god's garden-- ,we'll play there1 sister and ,i4 ,now1 ,maggie1 you needn't eye me ,because ,i'm talking so queer2 ,because ,i'm talking so strangely2 ,you needn't have the least fear1 ,somehow ,i'm feeling to-night1 ,maggie1 ,as ,i never felt before-- ,i'm sure1 ,i'm sure of it1 ,maggie1 ,i never shall rave any more4 ,maggie1 you know how these long years ,i've heard her calling1 so sad1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 so mournful8 ,it always drives me mad6 ,how the winter wind shrieks down the chimney1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 oh6 oh6 ,how the south wind wails at the casement1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 so low1 ,but most of all when the ,may-days ,come back1 with the flowers and the sun1 ,how the night-bird1 singing1 all lonely1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 doth moan2 ,you know how it sets me raving-- ,for she moaned1 ,oh1 ,bessie6 just so1 ,that time ,i struck little sister1 ,on the ,may-day long ago6 ,now1 ,maggie1 ,i've something to tell you-- ,you know ,may-day is here-- ,well1 this very morning1 at sunrise1 ,the robins chirped ,bessie6 so clear-- ,all day long the wee birds singing1 ,perched on the garden wall1 ,called ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 so sweetly1 ,i couldn't feel sorry at all4 ,now1 ,maggie1 ,i've something to tell you-- ,let me lean up to you close-- ,do you see how the sunset has flooded ,the heavens with yellow and rose8 ,do you see o'er the gilded cloud mountains ,sister's golden hair streaming out8 ,do you see her little hand beckoning8 ,do you hear her little voice calling out ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 so gladly1 ,bessie1 oh1 ,bessie6 ,come1 haste8 ,yes1 sister1 ,i'm coming2 ,i'm coming1 ,to play in ,god's garden at last6