#1916 #AHeapO'Livin' #EnglishWriters
Home is the place where the laught… And man should be found at his bes… Let the cares of the day be as gre… The night has been fashioned for r… So leave at the door when the toil…
A man must earn his hour of peace, Must pay for it with hours of stri… Must win by toil the evening’s swe… The rest that may be portioned for… The idler never knows it, never ca…
I KNOW the rose will bloom again As soon as it is June, The robin will return by then To sing his merry tune. I know the wintry cold will pass,
Vacation time! How glad it seemed When as a boy I sat and dreamed Above my school books, of the fun That I should claim when toil was… And, Oh, how oft my youthful eye
GOOD, kindly Mother Nature play… No favorites, but smiles for all Who care to tread her pleasant way… And listen to the song birds’ call… The tulips and the violets grow
SHE wants to go unto the shore, And pack her trunk With gowns no one has seen before, And all such junk. But I would seek some far off pla…
A boy and his dog make a glorious… No better friendship is found anyw… For they talk and they walk and th… And they have their deep secrets f… And that boy has a comrade who thi…
The finest tribute we can pay Unto our hero dead to-day, Is not a rose wreath, white and re… In memory of the blood they shed; It is to stand beside each mound,
The path o’ little children is the… Where green is every valley and ev… Where laughter’s always ringing an… And where the hurts are little hur… The path o’ little children, on th…
We were speakin’ of excitement, an… That sorter dot life’s landscape,… An’ one feller spoke of bein’ in a… An’ another one of skatin’ on some… Then a meek-faced little brother i…
The handy man about the house Is old and bent and gray; Each morning in the yard he toils, Where all the children play; Some new task every day he finds,
We’re gittin’ so we need again To see the sproutin’ seed again. We’ve been shut up all winter long Within our narrow rooms; We’re sort o’ shriveled up an’ dry…
I sink my piers to the solid rock, And I send my steel to the sky, And I pile up the granite, block… Full twenty stories high; Nor wind nor weather shall wash aw…
Once there was a boy who never Tore his clothes, or hardly ever, Never made his sister mad, Never whipped fer bein’ bad, Never scolded by his Ma,
The little house has grown too sma… Too big to dwell within the walls… And so, obedient to the wish of he… I have agreed for sordid gold the… Now strangers come to see the plac…