THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY £>U Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/flowersfruitsfroOOrile COPYRIGHT, I909, BY CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY NEW YORK t I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress With the written dec- laration that, ‘ ‘ as surely as the vine Grew round the stump,” she loved me, that old sweet- heart of mine. An Old Sweetheart of Mine. And, to see them old things gone That I onc’t was bettin’ on, In rale pint o’ fact, I feel Kindo’ like that worter-wheel, — Sorto’ drippy-like and wet Round the eyes — but paddlin’ yet, And, in mem’ry, loafin’ still Down around old Kingry’s Mill. Kingry's Mill. 94468 1 E’S go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station, Back where the latch-string’s a- hangin’ from the door, And ever’ neighbor ’round the place is dear as a relation — Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! Criggsby's Station. Where’s the heart as mellow ? Where’s a soul as free ? Where is any fellow We would rather be ? Just ourselves or none, boys, World around and wide, Laughing in the sun, boys, On the sunny side! On the Sunny Side. There’s nothin’ much patheticker’n jes a-bein’ rich! Down to the Capital. H! the old swimmin’-hole! In the happy days of yore, When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore, Oh! it showed me a face, in its warm, sunny tide, That gazed back at me so gay and glorified, It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress My shadder smilin’ up at me with sich ten- derness. The Old S Tvimmin -Hole. Now there was a man ’at jes peared like to me, ’At ortn’t a-never a-died! “But death haint a-showin’ no favors,” the old boss said, “On’y to Jim!” and cried: And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the shop, Er the whole blame’ neighborhood, He says, “When God made Jim, I bet you He didn’t do anything else that day But jes set around and feel good!” Jim. E is fond of declaring “he don’t care a straw” — That “the ills of a bachelor’s life Are blisses compared with a mother- in-law, And a boarding-school miss for a wife!” But up in his den — (Ah, my bachelor chum!) — I have sat with him there in the gloom, When the laugh on his lips died away to become But a phantom of mirth in the room. And to look on him there you would love him, for all His ridiculous ways, and be dumb As the little girl-face that smiles down from the wall On the tears of my bachelor chum. My Bachelor Chum. Wi’ brimming lip and laughin’ ee, Thou shookest even Grief wi’ glee, Yet had nae niggart sympathy Where sorrow bowed, But gavest a’ thy tears as free As a’ thy gowd. To Robert Burns. ANSIES! Pansies! How I love you, pansies! Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped, and dew-eyed with glee: Would my song might blossom out in little five-leaf stanzas As delicate in fancies as vour j beauty is to me! Pansies. Sleep, little one! the twilight folds her gloom Full tenderly about the drowsy Day, — And all his tinseled hours of light and bloom, Like toys, are laid away. Slumber Song. I’ve alius noticed grate success Is mixed with troubles, more or less, And it’s the man who does the best That gits more kicks than all the rest. Mp Philosofy. E laughed away the sorrow, And he laughed away the^ gloom; We are all so prone to borrow From the darkness of the tomb; And he laughed across the ocean Of a happy life, and passed, With a laugh of glad emotion, Into Paradise at last. The Funny Little Fellow . No man is grate tel he can see How less than little he would be Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare He hung his sign out anywhere. My Philosophy. As it’s give’ me to perceive, I most certin’y believe When a man’s jist glad plum through, God’s pleased with him, same as you. Neighborly Poems. THE Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; AiT he’s the goodest man you ever saw! An’ waters the horses, an’ feeds ’em hay; He comes to our house every day, An’ he opens the shed — and we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf, An’ nen — ef our hired girl says he can — He milks the cow for ’Lizabuth Ann. — Ain’t he a’ awful good Raggedy Man ? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! It’s nachural enugh, I guess, When some gits more and some gits less, For them-uns on the slimmest side To claim it ain’t a fare divide. And I ’ve knowed some to lay in wait, And git up soon, and set up late, To ketch some feller they could hate Fer goin’ at a faster gait. My Philosophy. HE old man worried on till July came at last, and with it that most glorious day that wrapped the baby- nation in its swaddling clothes of stripes and stars and laid it in the lap of Liberty. jod. The dear old flag whose faintest flutter flies A stirring echo through each patriot breast, Can never coax to life the folded eyes That saw its wrongs redressed — That watched it waver when the fight was hot, And blazed with newer courage to its aid, Regardless of the shower of shell and shot Through which the charge was made; — And when at last they saw it plume its wings, Like some proud bird in stormy element, And soar untrammeled on its wanderings, They closed in death content. The Silent Victors. EX! What a sumptuous darkness is the Night! — How rich and deep and suave and velvety Its lovely blackness to a soul like mine! — Ah, night! thou densest of all mysteries! — Thou eeriest of unfathomable delights, Whose soundless, sheer inscrutability Is fascination’s own ethereal self, Unseen, and yet embodied — palpable, An essence, yet a form of stableness That stays me — weighs me, as a giant palm Were laid on either shoulder. — Peace! I cease Even to strive to grope one further pace, But stand uncovered and with lifted face. Jurfylet — in the Flying Islands of the Night. HIS is the way the baby slept: A mist of tresses backward thrown By quavering sighs where kisses crept With yearnings she had never known: The little hands were closely kept About a lily newly blown — And God was with her. And we wept. And this is the way the baby slept. The IV ay the Baby Slept . Give me the baby to hold, my dear — To hold and hug, to love and kiss. Ah! he will come to me, never a fear — Come to the nest of a breast like this, As warm for him as his face with cheer. Give me the baby to hold, my dear! Give Me the Baby. OON-TIME and June time, down around the river! Clean out o’ sight o’ home and skulkin’ under kivver Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, and swamp-ash and ellum — Idies all so jumbled up, you can hardly tell ’em! — Tired, you know, but lovin’ it, and smilin’ jest to think ’at Any sweeter tiredness you’d fairly want to drink It. Down Around the River . Soak your hide in sunshine and waller in the shade — Like the Good Book tells us — “ where there ’re none to make afraid!” Well! — I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea — On the banks o’ Deer Crick’s grand enough fer me! On the Banins o* Deer Cricfy. HEN the face of the Mother looks back, through the mist Of the tears that are welling; and, lucent with light, I see the dear smile of the lips I have kissed, As she knelt by my cradle at morning and night; And my arms are outheld, with a yearning too wild For any but God in His love to inspire, As she pleads at the foot of His throne for her child, — As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. Envoy — Rhymes of Childhood. Just tired! * * * But when of old I had the stay Of mother-hands, O very sweet indeed It was to dream that all the weary way I should but follow where I now must lead. An Out-Worn Sappho. HAVE jest about decided It ’ud keep a town-boy hoppin’ Fer to work all winter, choppin’ Fer a* old fire-place, like I did! Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy ! — Blame’ backbone o’ winter, ’peared-like Wouldn’t break! and I was skeered-like Clean on into Feb’uary! Nothin’ ever made me madder Than for Pop to stomp in, layin’ On a’ extry fore-stick, say in’, “ Groun’-hog’s out and seed his shadder!” Old V/ inters on the Farm. O the days gone by! O the days gone by! The music of the laughing lip, the lustre of the eye; The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin’s magic ring — The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in every- thing. — O Month a man kin railly love — June, you kn I ’m talkin’ of! Knee Deep in Just as of old! The world rolls on and on; The day dies into night — night into dawn — Dawn into dusk through cen- turies untold. Envoy E will sing across the meadow, — and the woman at the well Will stay the dripping bucket with a smile ineffable; And the children in the orchard will gaze wistfully the way The happy song comes to them, with the fragrance of the hay; The barn will neigh in answer and the pasture lands behind Will chime with bells, and send responsive lowings down the wind; And all the echoes of the world will jubilantly call In sweetest mimicry of that one sweetest voice of all. 77ie Poet of the Future. They’s been a heap o’ rain, but the sun’s out to-day, And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away, And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener still; It may rain again tomorry, but I don’t think it Thoughts for the Discouraged Farmer. He was warned ag’inst the womern — She was warned ag’inst the man, — And if that wont make a weddin’, W’y, they’s nothin’ else that can! On a Splendid Match . UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA