For Your Sweet Sake: Poems

To tell the trend of m’ lay, Is not for th’ harp or me; I’m only to know, From the winds that blow, What th’ theme of m’ song shall be.

The land of Avia, lovely is the scene, Clothed every evening in a silvery sheen; The rippling brook and birds make music clear, Wild flowers bloom in plenty all the year, And mi...

I’ll ne’er forget the day, When I was young and gay, A rolling ’round the floor in Tennessee; From th’ cotton field so white, My ma would come at night, And fondly hold me in he...