Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,
Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.
An' w'en I'
ON the wide veranda white,
In the purple failing light,
Sits the master while the sun is lowly bur
UNCLE JOHN, he makes me tired;
Thinks 'at he's jest so all-fired
Smart, 'at he kin pick up, so,
Wen de snow 's a-fallin'
An' de win' is col'.
Mammy 'mence a-callin',
Den she 'mence to scol',
The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awa
Come, essay a sprightly measure,
Tuned to some light song of pleasure.
Maidens, let your brows be
I know a little country place
Where still my heart doth linger,
And o'er its fields is every grace
Yes, my ha't's ez ha'd ez stone—
Go 'way, Sam, an' lemme 'lone.
No; I ain't gwine change my mi
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wi
OH, I haven't got long to live, for we all
Die soon, e'en those who live longest;
And the poorest
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay
The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from th
THE air is dark, the sky is gray,
The misty shadows come and go,
And here within my dusky room
Tis fine to play
In the fragrant hay,
And romp on the golden load;
To ride old Jack
To the barn
Win' a-blowin' gentle so de san' lay low,
San' a little heavy f'om de rain,
All de pa'ms a-wavin'
SWING yo' lady roun' an' roun',
Do de bes' you know;
Mek yo' bow an' p'omenade
Up an' down de flo
They please me not-- these solemn songs
That hint of sermons covered up.
'T is true the world sh
I Found you and I lost you,
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the l
If I could but forget
The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the
It may be misery not to sing at all,
And to go silent through the brimming day;
It may be misery
De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,
An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;
DE win' is blowin' wahmah,
An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;
Dey's a so't o' mist a-risin'
THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORY
Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,
You 's enough to dribe me w
OH, dere's lots o' keer an' trouble
In dis world to swaller down;
An' ol' Sorrer's purty lively
'Break me my bounds, and let me fly
To regions vast of boundless sky;
Nor I, like piteous Daphne,