From some sweet home, the morning train
Brings to the city,
Five days a week, in sun or rain,
Returning like a song’s refrain,
A school girl pretty.
A wild flower’s unaffected grace
Is dainty miss’s;
Yet in her shy, expressive face
The touch of urban arts I trace,—
And artifices.
No one...
Prime cantante!
Scherzo! Andante!
Piano, pianissimo!
Presto, prestissimo!
Hark! are there nine birds or ninety and nine?
And now a miraculous gurgling gushes
Like nectar from Hebe’s Olympian bottle,
The laughter of tune from a rapturous throttle!
Such melody must be a hermit-thrush’s!
But that other caroler, nearer,...
From “Saga of the Oaks and other Poems”
FROM some sweet home, the morning train
Brings to the city,
Five days a week, in sun or rain,
Returning like a song’s refrain,
A school girl pretty.
A wild flower’s unaffected grace
Is dainty miss’s;
Yet in her shy, expressive face
The touch of urban arts I...
On His First Visit to the West
COME as artist, come as guest,
Welcome to the expectant West,
Hero of the charmèd pen,
Loved of children, loved of men.
We have felt thy spell for years;
Oft with laughter, oft with tears,
Thou hast touched the tenderest part
Of our inmost, hidden heart.
We have fixed our eager gaze
On...
