George Pope Morris

  • Old Birch, who taught the village school,
      Wedded a maid of homespun habit;
    He was as stubborn as a mule,
      And she as playful as a rabbit.
    Poor Kate had scarce become a wife
      Before her husband sought to make her
    The pink of country polished...

  • This book is all that ’s left me now,—
      Tears will unbidden start,—
    With faltering lip and throbbing brow
      I press it to my heart.
    For many generations past
      Here is our family tree;
    My mother’s hands this Bible clasped,
      She, dying,...

  • Woodman, spare that tree!
      Touch not a single bough!
    In youth it sheltered me,
      And I ’ll protect it now.
    ’T was my forefather’s hand
      That placed it near his cot;
    There, woodman, let it stand,
      Thy axe shall harm it not!

    That...

  • Jeannie marsh of Cherry Valley
    At whose call the muses rally;
      Of all the nine none so divine
    As Jeannie Marsh of Cherry Valley.
    She minds me of her native scenes,
      Where she was born among the cherries
    Of peaches, plums, and nectarines,...

  • Where hudson’s wave o’er silvery sands
      Winds through the hills afar,
    Old Cronest like a monarch stands,
      Crowned with a single star!
    And there, amid the billowy swells
      Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth,
    My fair and gentle Ida dwells,...

  • This book is all that ’s left me now!
      Tears will unbidden start,—
    With faltering lip and throbbing brow
      I press it to my heart.
    For many generations past,
      Here is our family tree;
    My mother’s hands this Bible clasped,
      She, dying,...

  • Near the lake where drooped the willow,
        Long time ago!
    Where the rock threw back the billow,
        Brighter than snow,
    Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherished
        By high and low;
    But with autumn’s leaf she perished,
        Long time ago!

    ...
  • We were boys together,
      And never can forget
    The school-house near the heather,
      In childhood where we met;
    The humble home to memory dear,
      Its sorrows and its joys;
    Where woke the transient smile or tear,
      When you and I were boys....

  • Woodman, spare that tree!
      Touch not a single bough!
    In youth it sheltered me,
      And I ’ll protect it now.
    ’T was my forefather’s hand
      That placed it near his cot;
    There, woodman, let it stand,
      Thy axe shall harm it not.

    That...