A Poet, Too.
335.8.
The Rochester (N. Y.) Times ваув:
"Johu Howard Bryant, an only surviving
brother of William Cullen Bryant, agod
about 30 years, resides in Princeton, Ill.
He is unknown to fame, but not for want
of native ability,…
The Stricken City
103
I
They will build it great, they will build It strong
Its streets the children of men will throng:
It will be superb with its lofty domes
And its marble halls and its stately homes,
But never…
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An Old Story.
208.6
"Say, wife, I'm going to town today,
Make out your errand list, don't delay."
Then into the room the farmer gося
To don in haste his Sunday clothes.
There follows a sort of expectant hush
When out from the bedroom,…
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San Francisco.
6.5
O stricken San Francisco, thou
Fair queen of all the West!
Thy ruined homes, thy bleeding hearts,
The ories of thy distress'd,
Fill all the land with sorrow,
We mourn, as one, thy fate,
The gay voice hushed, the form now…
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The Man Who is Wanter.
223.10
A young man's preferred, but then age searce will count
Against him if he's one on whom they can reckon
To do this work well, small or TOLL the amount,
And to be there to do it, without call or beckon!
Any…
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Ring the Bell, .watchman.
293.2.
High in the belfry the old sexton stands.
Clasping the rope with his thin, long hands
Fixed is his gaze as by some magic spell.
Till he hears the distant murmur, "Ring, ring the bell."
Chorus-
Ring the…
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Evening On The Prairie.
Mary D. McFadden
1.3
Tonight, dear heart, when the smoke hangs low
Between my eyes and the sunset's glow
My heart turns back from the futile town,
To the plains, where the dusk comes setting down
Over the prairie we…
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ONE OF THE BOYS.
255.3
He is way beyond fifty, his hair's turning gray.
But still he can laugh in the folliest way:
He hasn't forgotten the fun in a jest:
He tells the old stories with heartlest zest,
He knows all the new ones; he likes lots…
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SHADOWS.
467.4
The shadows they lie in the corn-fields,
Under the fair, blue sky,
Where the winds sweep over the meadows,
Softly the shadows lie.
The shadows they lie in the courtyards
Of the prisons dark and grim,
Where pinched and…
A SMILE.
564.6
The brightness of the morn was hid
'Neath clouds of dull, unsoftened gray;
My heart beat low beneath its weight
Of grief, and sorrowed with the day.
A mockery was all gladness-yet.
A loved one smiled-straight from the heart
The…
Thanksgiving.
294.1
We thank Thee. Yea, in the even tone
Of those who are glad of the goods they own.
We thank Thee. Yea, that Thou hast preferred
And blessed us more than the common herd.
We thank Thee, part with the heart's intention,…
The Deserted Village.
560.3
Sweet Auburnt lovellest village of the plain,
Where herith and plenty cheered the laboring swain.
Where smiling spring its earliest visit pald.
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed.
Dear, lovely bowers…
IF.
223.5
If c-a-t spelt dog and cow
And horse and mouse and heaven,
If two plus two made six and nine
And twelve and eighty-seven,
If "see the man" was all there was
To learn Inside my reader,
No boy would be as bright as I,
In school…
When the Frost is on the Pankin
893
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's
in the shock;
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin
turkey-cock
And the clackin' of the guineas, and the cluckin'…
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THE . SAD . PART . OF . THE . DAY .
415.2
When all the house is warm and bright,
And underneath the mellow light
My Father reads his evening book,
While I am in the fire place nook
With Mother Darling, then I hear
A sound so muffled, and…
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Thanksgiving Day
908
There is no home of which a, man may say:
"We want no turkey on Thanksgiving day"
There is no barnyard where the turks don't
feel
The end of living's this a good, square
meal
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They Shall Awake.
180.4
They burled him, the friends who loved him so
With fragrant balm and spices rich and sweet,
"The Master's dead!" with bitter tears they cry:
"The cruel nail prints mark his hands and feet.
We thought our Lord some…
EXPURGATED FOOTBALL.
500.7.
Can this tame,
Benevolent game
Be the same
Old riproaring.
Death scoring
Stunt
With which we were wont
To amuse ourselves in days of yore?
No gore?
No broken ribs?
Why not the on bibs
And let them play
Croquet
Or…
The Ghostly Wind.
582.3
De lonesome Win' he holler w'en de night wuz in de middle:
"Ef you lemme in I'll show you how I knows ter play de fiddle:
Done had de leaves a-dancin' fum de very break er day,
But, blowin' s'ch a lively tune, I danced…
Do-Do Eyes.
369.6
The greater the charms of a woman,
The farther she'll go with your tin:
All beauty's skin-deep that is human-
And beauties are mostly a skin.
A Poet, Too.
UncategorizedThe Stricken City
San FranciscoAn Old Story
UncategorizedSan Francisco
Location, San FranciscoThe Man Who is Wanter
UncategorizedRing the Bell, .watchman
UncategorizedEvening on the Prairie
Nature“ONE OF THE BOYS.”
UncategorizedSHADOWS.
UncategorizedA SMILE.
UncategorizedThanksgiving
UncategorizedThe Deserted Village.
UncategorizedIf
UncategorizedWhen The Frost Is On The Pankin
EnchantmentTHE . SAD . PART . OF . THE . DAY .
UncategorizedThanksgiving Day
HolidayThey Shall Awake
UncategorizedEXPURGATED FOOTBALL.
UncategorizedThe Ghostly Wind.
UncategorizedDo-Do Eyes.
Uncategorized