THEY came in the early spring-days,
With the first refreshing showers
And I watched the growing beauty
Of the little drooping flowers.
I am tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart-weary of building and spoiling,
And spoiling and building again.
'Twas a quaint old clock with a quaint old face,
and great iron weights and chain.
It stopped when it liked, and before it struck
it creaked as if 'twere in pain.
The bees are in the meadow
And the swallows in the sky;
The cattle in the shadow
Watch the river running by.
THE world is large, when its weary leagues two loving hearts divide;
But the world is small, when your enemy is loose on the other side.
IN the Spring we see:
Then the buds are dear to us—immature bosoms like lilies swell.
In the Summer we live:
When bright eyes are near to us, oh, the sweet stories the false lips tell!
HER hair was a waving bronze, and her eyes
Deep wells that might cover a brooding soul;
And who, till he weighed it, could ever surmise
That her heart was a cinder instead of a coal!
DIXON, a Choctaw, twenty years of age,
Had killed a miner in a Leadville brawl;
Tried and condemned, the rough-beards curb their rage,
And watch him stride in freedom from the hall.
THE day of Joseph's marriage unto Mary,
In thoughful mood he said unto his wife,
Behold, I go into a far-off country
To labor for thee, and to make thy life
From, that fair land and drear land in the South,
Of which through years I do not cease to think,
I brought a tale, learned not by word of mouth,
But formed by finding here one golden link