Oh for the nights when we used to sit
In the firelight's glow or flicker,
With the gas turned low and our pipes all lit,
And the air fast growing thicker;

Curious Story

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I heard such a curious story

Of Santa Claus. Once, so they say,

The Evening Primrose

© Dorothy Parker

You know the bloom, unearthly white,

That none has seen by morning light-

The White-Footed Deer

It was a hundred years ago,
When, by the woodland ways,
The traveller saw the wild deer drink,
Or crop the birchen sprays.

Pharsalia - Book III: Massilia

Phoenicians first (if story be believed)
Dared to record in characters; for yet
Papyrus was not fashioned, and the priests
Of Memphis, carving symbols upon walls
Of mystic sense (in shape of beast or fowl)
Preserved the secrets of their magic art.

The Corn Harvest

Summer !
the painting is organized
about a young

Retrospection

After C. S. C.

When the hunter-star Orion

An Autumn Treasure-Trove

© Eugene Field

'Tis the time of the year's sundown, and flame
Hangs on the maple bough;
And June is the faded flower of a name;
The thin hedge hides not a singer now.
Yet rich am I; for my treasures be
The gold afloat in my willow-tree.