PAGE Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main 94 153 Happy the man who, void of cares and strife 32 How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood 115 I am far from my hame, an' I'm weary often whiles 301 252 I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old 139 I'm growing old, I've sixty years I'm often asked by plodding souls 313 78 In Thee, thou Son of God, in Thee I rest 328 In their ragged regimentals I said to sorrow's awful storm I sat with Doris, the shepherd maiden It is not time that flies It matters little where I was born 220 116 22 300 335 I would not live alway, I ask not to stay 128 Likeness of heaven, agent of power Lovely river, lovely river Love me little, love me long Love still has something of the sea Many a year is in its grave. 307 284 16 26 Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning Methinks it is good to be here Miss Flora McFlimsey, of Madison Square Mournfully listening to the waves' strange talk Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn My dear and only love, I pray My life is like the summer rose My mind to me a kingdom is My prime of youth is but a frost of care Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew 282 308 130 207 288 69 27 118 1 9 99 PAGE "Nay, wait me here—I'll not be long Nearer, my God, to thee 318 199 Nigh to a grave that was newly made Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 175 276 On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billow 152 O say can you see, by the dawn's early light 103 O, the charge at Balaklava! 186 O then tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall 258 Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain 265 267 O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 122 PAGE The dawn went up the sky The breezes went steadily through the tall pines The despot's heel is on thy shore 353 270 324 259 72 191 The glories of our birth and state 24 The groves of Blarney, they look so charming 92 The guests are come, all silent they have waited. 297 There's a grim one horse hearse in a jolly round trot 189 The tears I shed must ever fall The tree of deepest root is found The weather leech of the topsail shivers The wind blows over the Yukon 'T is midnight's holy hour,—and silence now 135 To drum-beat and heart-beat 289 "T was a jolly old pedagogue, long ago 226 'T was in heaven pronounced, and 't was muttered "T was when the wan leaf frae the birk tree wus fa'in' 105 PAGE Two worlds there are. To one our eyes we strain Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town We meet 'neath the sounding rafter 256 When a' ither bairnies are hushed to their hame 117 When another life is added . 240 Whence come those shrieks so wild and shrill 182 84 When the humid shadows hover over all the 244 274 When the sheep are in the fauld, and a' the kye 88 247 Ye gentlemen of England "You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart, You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier 8 249 282 THE END |