ge is in all men's hearts.

HUMANITY

A lover left his new-made bride
And shot a dove with her mate at her side.

ASPIRATION

I have stood and watched the Eagle soar into the Sun,
And envied him his swift light-cleaving pinion;
And, though I may not soar, at least I may
Lift up my feet above the encumbering clay.

REALITY

There be three things real in all the earth:
Mother-love, Death, and a Little Child's mirth.

LITTLE DOLLY DIMPLE

Little Dolly Dimple,
In her green wimple,
Knows all the philosophers know:
That fire is hot
And ice is not,
And that sun will melt the snow.
She has heard that the moon is made of green cheese;
But she 's not quite certain of this.
She knows if you tickle your nose you will sneeze,
And a hurt is made well by a kiss.
I wish I were wise as Dolly is wise,
For mysteries lie in her deep, clear eyes.

A VALENTINE

TO M. F. AND F. F.

"_The Fourteenth Day of February fine:
I choose you for my Valentine._"

Thus ran the first of the sweet old rhymes
On the Lovers'-Day in the old, sweet times:
And so, I follow closely along
To tell my love in the words of the song.

"_Roses are red; violets are blue;
Pinks are sweet, and so are you._"

Roses are red in my sweetheart's cheeks,
Deepening tints whenever one speaks;
Violets are blue in the eyes of one;
In the eyes of the other smileth the sun;
But never were roses half so rare
And never were pinks a tithing as fair
And never have they in their garden-bed
A hundredth part of the fragrance shed,

As my two flowers in their sweet home-frame,
Both flowers by nature and one by name.
So as sure as the bloom grows on the vine
I 'll choose them for my valentine:
My sweet-heart one and my sweet-heart two,
Both little sweet-hearts sweet and true--
To love and to cherish forever mine:
To cherish and love as my valentine.

DIALECT POEMS

FROM "BEFO' DE WAR"

UNCLE GABE'S WHITE FOLKS

Sarvent, Marster! Yes, suh, dat 's me--
'Ole Unc' Gabe' 's my name;
I thankee, Marster; I 'm 'bout, yo' see.
"An' de ole 'ooman?" She 's much de same:
Po'ly an' c'plainin', thank de Lord!
But de Marster's gwine ter come back from 'broad.

"Fine ole place?" Yes, suh, 't is so;
An' mighty fine people my white folks war--
But you ought ter 'a' seen it years ago,