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beauty bending bloom blossoms blue blush bore breath bright BROKEN VASE brown caliph charming Ruth cheek clouds coming to town CUPID AND PSYCHE curtain dear dream eyes face faded faint fair fancy fear fifty flowers forsooth FRENCH OF BERANGER GADFLY golden gray GROWING OLD hair hand heart kiss laughing Let us drive light lingering little white heads look looking-glass loved Rosette lover maid memory naught neighbor's Never we'll heed o'er OLD WALTZ once I loved passed pen and ink perdition perfume petals rhymes ripe lips rose save the President Sedan chair shadow ships at sea sigh skies smile softly SONG stir stopped summer SUMMER WIND sweet and low sweetheart tears tell TEMPORA MUTANTUR There's to-night touched town to-day VALENTINE VANE wait watching wayside ween whisper my love WHISPER OF LOVE wind is coming wings withered wonder word yellow pane youth
Page 10 - TO CRITICS WHEN I was seventeen I heard From each censorious tongue, "I'd not do that if I were you; You see you're rather young." Now that I number forty years, I'm quite as often told Of this or that I shouldn't do Because I'm quite too old. O carping world! If there's an age Where youth and manhood keep An equal poise, alas! I must Have passed it in my sleep.
Page 7 - EXPLANATION HER lips were so near That — what else could I do? You'll be angry, I fear. But her lips were so near — Well, I can't make it clear, Or explain it to you. But — her lips were so near That— what else could I do?
Page 11 - In paint and powder London's fair Went trooping past together. Swift, Addison, and Pope, mayhap They sauntered slowly past her. Or printer's boy, with gown and cap, For Steele, went trotting faster. For beau nor wit had she a look; Nor lord nor lady minding, She bent her head above this book.
Page 11 - Alas, for I am fifty now! Sad age, when we pursue no more — Fruit dies upon the withering tree : Hark ! some one rapped upon my door. Nay, open not. 'Tis not for me, — Or else the doctor calls. Not yet Must I expect his studious bow.
Page 9 - Old tramp, — here let me die where I was born. When young, it used to be my prayer To craftsmen, "Let me learn your trade." "Clear out — we've got no work to spare; Go beg," was all reply they made. You rich, who bade me work, I've fed With relish on the bones you threw; Made of your straw an easy bed: Old tramp, — I have no curse to vent on you. Poor wretch, I had the choice to steal; But no, I'd rather beg my bread.
Page 16 - This world is a difficult world, indeed, And people are hard to suit, And the man who plays on the violin Is a bore to the man with the flute.
Page 1 - TIME'S REVENGE WHEN I was ten and she fifteen — Ah, me! how fair I thought her. She treated with disdainful mien The homage that I brought her, And, in a patronizing way, Would of my shy advances say: "It's really quite absurd, you see; He's very much too young for me.
Page 5 - THE PRIME OF LIFE JUST as I thought I was growing old, Ready to sit in my easy chair, To watch the world with a heart grown cold, And smile at a folly I would not share, Rose came by with a smile for me, And I am thinking that forty year Isn't the age that it seems to be, When two pretty brown eyes are near. Bless me! of life it is just the prime, A fact that I hope she will understand; And forty year is a perfect rhyme To dark brown eyes and a pretty hand. These gray hairs are by chance, you see...