I thought myself, indeed, secure,

   So fast the door, so firm the lock;

But, lo! he toddling comes to lure

   My parent ear with timorous knock.


My heart were stone could it withstand

   The sweetness of my...

Poet:

I say, as one who never feared

   The wrath of a subscriber's bullet,

I pity him who has a beard

   But has no little girl to pull it!


When wife and I have finished tea,

   Our baby woos me with her prattle,...

Poet:

I count my treasures o'er with care,---

   The little toy my darling knew,

   A little sock of faded hue,

A little lock of golden hair.


Long years ago this holy time,

   My little one---my all to me---
...

Poet:

COBBLER


Stork, I am justly wroth,

   For thou hast wronged me sore;

The ash roof-tree that shelters thee

   Shall shelter thee no more!


STORK


Full fifty years I 've dwelt
...

Poet:

My harp is on the willow-tree,

Else would I sing, O love, to thee

   A song of long-ago---

Perchance the song that Miriam sung

Ere yet Judea's heart was wrung

   By centuries of woe.


I ate my crust...

Poet:

On the white throat of the' useless passion

That scorched my soul with its burning breath

I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion,

And gathered them close in a grip of death;

For why should I fan, or feed with fuel,
...

Poet:

Good-bye—yes, I am going.

        Sudden? Well, you are right;

But a startling truth came home to me

        With sudden force last night.

What is it? Shall I tell you?

        Nay, that is why I go.

I am...

Poet:

I, at Eleusis, saw the finest sight,

         When early morning's banners were unfurled.

         From high Olympus, gazing on the world,

The ancient gods once saw it with delight.

Sad Demeter had in a single night
...

Poet:

The meadow and the mountain with desire

Gazed on each other, till a fierce unrest

Surged 'neath the meadow's seemingly calm breast,

And all the mountain's fissures ran with fire.


A mighty river rolled between them there....

Poet:

It seemeth such a little way to me

        Across to that strange country—the Beyond;

And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be

        The home of those of whom I am so fond,

They make it seem familiar and most dear,
...

Poet: