A Little Book of Old Time Verse: Old Fashioned Flowers

She was not as pretty as women I know, And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow Drop to shade, melt to naught in the long-trodden ways, While she's still remember'd on wa...

Through walks, grown with woodbines, as often we stray, Around us our girls and boys frolic and play, How pleasing their sport is, the wanton ones see, And borrow their looks fr...

That the verses in this little book will bring back sweet memories of the long ago to every reader, as they do to me, is the earnest wish of the humble gatherer of these old-fas...

Is she not like a maiden coy Press'd by some amorous-breathing boy? Tho' coy, she courts him too, Winding away her slender form, She will not have him woo so warm, And yet will...