Little orphant Annie ’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups and saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the...
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Ay, dwainie!—my Dwainie!
The lurloo ever sings,
A tremor in his flossy crest
And in his glossy wings.
And Dwainie!—My Dwainie!
The winno-welvers call;—
But Dwainie hides in Spirkland
And answers not at all.The teeper twitters Dwainie!—
The tcheucker on his spray
Teeters up and down the wind,... -
How slight a thing may set one’s fancy drifting
Upon the dead sea of the Past!—A view—
Sometimes an odor—or a rooster lifting
A far-off “Ooh! ooh-ooh!”And suddenly we find ourselves astray
In some wood’s-pasture of the Long Ago,—
Or idly dream again upon a day
Of rest we used to know.I bit an apple but a moment since...
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A man by the name of Bolus—(all ’at we ’ll ever know
Of the stranger’s name, I reckon—and I ’m kindo’ glad it ’s so!)—
Got off here, Christmas morning, looked ’round the town, and then
Kindo’ sized up the folks, I guess, and—went away again!The fac’s is, this man Bolus got “run in,” Christmas-day;
The town turned out to see it, and cheered, and... -
The winds have talked with him confidingly;
The trees have whispered to him; and the night
Hath held him gently as a mother might,
And taught him all sad tones of melody;
The mountains have bowed to him; and the sea,
In clamorous waves, and murmurs exquisite,
Hath told him all her sorrow and delight,—
Her legends fair,—her darkest mystery... -
Dear lord! kind Lord!
Gracious Lord! I pray
Thou wilt look on all I love,
Tenderly to-day!
Weed their hearts of weariness;
Scatter every care,
Down a wake of angel wings
Winnowing the air.Bring unto the sorrowing
All release from pain;
Let the lips of laughter
Overflow again;
And with... -
“se dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto
Di tua lezione.” -
Flower, that I hold in my hand,
Waxen and white and unwoful,
Perfect with your race’s lovely perfection,
Pure as the dream of a child just descended from the heavens,
Chaste as the thought of the maid on whose sight first shines the glow of love’s planet,
Trustful as a boy who holds the world in hands of power unrelaxing,
Flower, graceful, lovely... -
Three steps and I reach the door,
But a whole month rolls between
Since last I stood before
My shut room’s simple scene.I pause at the door and shrink,
My hand is at point to turn,
But I stand and dimly think
Of all I long for and yearn.My life leaps up to me there,
The past with its every deed,
And... -
Ah, blessedness of work! the aimless mind,
Left to pursue at will its fancies wild,
Returns at length, like some play-wearied child,
Unto its labor’s knee, and leaves behind
Its little games, and learns to soothe its blind
Wide longings in the sweet tranquillity
Of limited tasks, whose mild successions wind
In pauseless waves unto the...