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