There was an old man whose desire,
Was to sit with his feet in the fire;
When they said, " Are they 'ot?", he replied, " No, they're not!
You must put some more coals on the fire."

On gossamer nights when the moon is low,
— And stars in the mist are hiding,
Over the hill where the foxgloves grow
— You may see the fairies riding.
— — Kling! Klang! Kling!
— — Their stirrups and their bridles ring,
— And their horns are loud and their bugles blow,
— When the moon is low.

They sweep through the night like a whistling wind,
— They pass and have left no traces;
But one of them lingers far behind
— The flight of the fairy faces.
— — She makes no moan,
— — She sorrows in the dark alone,

On December, the sixth
And the twentieth day,
Our troops attacked the Hessians,
And show'd them gallant play.

Our roaring cannon taught them
Our valor for to know;
We fought like brave Americans
Against a haughty foe.

The chiefs were kill'd or taken,
The rest were put to flight,
And some arrived at Princeton,
Half-fainting with affright.

The third of January,
The morning being clear,
Our troops attack'd the regulars,
At Princeton, we do hear.

About a mile from Princeton,
The battle is begun,

On Death, thy murd'rer, this revenge I take:
I slight his terror, and just question make
Which of us two the best precedence have,
Mine to this wretched world, thine to the grave.
Thou shouldst have followed me; but death, to blame,
Miscounted years and measured age by fame:
So dearly hast thou bought thy precious lines;
Their praise grew swiftly: so thy life declines.
Thy Muse, the hearer's queen, the reader's love,
All ears, all hearts but Death's could please and move.

On Christmas Eve the little stars
Sparkle and glisten with delight,
Like strings of glitt'ring diamonds,
Across the darkness of the night.

On Christmas Eve the little stars
Dance in their places in the sky;
Ah! I would go and trip with them
If I could only climb as high.

On Christmas Eve the little stars
Sing merry carols all night long;
But O! I am so far away
I cannot even hear their song.

On Christmas Eve the little stars
Sparkle and dance, and sing till dawn;
And I am singing too, because

On blue summer evenings I'll go down the pathways
Pricked by the grain, crushing the tender grass--
Dreaming, I'll feel its coolness on my feet.
I'll let the wind bathe my bare head.

I won't talk at all, I won't think about anything.
But infinite love will rise in my soul,
And I'll go far, very far, like a gypsy,
Into Nature--happy, as if with a woman.

On blood, smoke, rain and the dead,
On trampled grass unharvested
The sun poured light.
Dark fell. The battle's rage was o'er,
And many a one came home no more
From Kolin's fight.

A lad, half boy, had shared the fray,
Had first heard bullets whiz that day.
He had to go ...
And though he swung his flag on high,
Fate touched him, it was his to die,
He had to go ...

Near him there lay a pious book,
Which still the youngster bore and took.
With sword and cup.
A grenadier from Bevern found

On an eve that May
chose to assay its powers,
portraying on the earth
the finery of heaven,
without fear nor doubt
it might, in such ostent,
rich, arrogant, presumptuous and proud,
be vanquished;
and as the westering sun
with incandescent light
fell whirling o'er the verge
— Phaeton headlong from
his ardent chariot hurled —
to burial in rosy sepulchre,
a mead appears,
spangled with flowers
in such luxuriance that it defies
and dares to vie with them as many stars
as shine upon the globe.

Sentinel stands

On a Sunday Morn, sat a maid forlorn, With her
sweet-heart by her side; Thro' the window pane, she looked
at the rain, " We must stay home Joe, " she cried; There's a
picnic too, at the Old Point View, It's a shame it rained to-
day, Then the boy drew near, kissed away each tear, And she
heard him softly say.
" How I long, " she sighed, " for a trolley ride, Just to
show my brand new gown, " Then she gazed on high with a
gladsome cry, for the sun came shining down. And she
looked so sweet, on the big front seat, As the car sped on its

ON A SUMMER'S DAY when the sea was rippled
By a soft and gentle breeze,
A ship set sail for a harbor laden
To a port beyond the seas.
There were fond farewells and loving signals
While her form was yet discerned,
But they knew not 'twas a solemn parting,
For the ship has never returned.

Chorus:

Did she ever return? No, she never returned,
And her fate is yet unlearned;
And for years and years fond hearts have been waiting
For the ship that never returned.

Said a feeble youth to his aged mother,