This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.
Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,
Away with old Hock and madeira,
Too earthly ye are for my sport;
There's a beverage brighter and clearer.
The sunshine seeks my little room
To tell me Paris streets are gay;
That children cry the lily bloom
All up and down the leafy way;
We drink the evening in a frosted glass.
Nothing about the music is profane.
Your eyes hold all emotion very quiet.
Fey Shadows stretch landscapes beyond belief.
You fill my soul with sunshine
my heart with tender care.
You fill my world with happiness
knowing that you are always there
to my face
your warmth I feel
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
FOR A VERY LITTLE GIRL, NOT A YEAR OLD.
CATHARINE FRAZEE WAKEFIELD.
I'm weary of this weather and I hanker for the ways
Which people read of in the psalms and preachers paraphrase--