_Over the river an’ through the wood_ _Now Gran’mother’s cap I spy:_ _Hurrah fer the fun!—Is the puddin’ done?—_ _Hurrah fer the punkin-pie!_ An’ ’ll tell you _why_ ’at’s the goodest piece:— ’Cause it’s ist like _we_ go To _our_ Gran’ma’s, a-visitun there, When our Pa he says so; An’ Ma she fixes my little cape-coat An’ little fuzz-cap; an’ Pa He tucks me away—an’ yells “_Hoo-ray!_”— An’ whacks Ole Gray, an’ drives the sleigh Fastest you ever saw! _Over the river an’ through the wood_ _Now Gran’mother’s cap I spy:_ _Hurrah fer the fun!—Is the puddin’ done?—_ _Hurrah fer the punkin-pie!_ An’ Pa ist snuggles me ’tween his knees— An’ I he’p hold the lines, An’ peek out over the buffalo-robe;— An’ the wind ist _blows_!—an’ the snow ist _snows_!— An’ the sun ist shines! an’ shines!— An’ th’ ole horse tosses his head an’ coughs The frost back in our face.— An’ I ruther go to my Gran’ma’s Than any other place! _Over the river an’ through the wood_ _Now Gran’mother’s cap I spy:_ _Hurrah fer the fun!—Is the puddin’ done?—_ _Hurrah fer the punkin-pie!_ An’ all the peoples they is in town Watches us whizzin’ past To go a-visitun _our_ Gran’ma’s, Like we all went there last;— But _they_ can’t go, like ist _our_ folks An’ Johnny an’ Lotty, an’ three Er four neighber-childerns, an’ Rober-ut Volney, An’ Charley an’ Maggy an’ me! _Over the river an’ through the wood_ _Now Gran’mother’s cap I spy:_ _Hurrah fer the fun!—Is the puddin’ done?—_ _Hurrah fer the punkin-pie!_ ALBUMANIA _Some certain misty yet tenable signs_ _Of the oracular Raggedy Man,_ _Happily found in these fugitive lines_ _Culled from the album of ’Lizabuth Ann._ FRIENDSHIP O Friendship, when I muse on you, As thoughtful minds, O Friendship, do, I muse, O Friendship, o’er and o’er, O Friendship—as I said before. LIFE “What is Life?” If the _Dead_ might say, ’Spect they’d answer, under breath, Sorry-like yet a-laughin’:—A Poor pale yesterday of Death! LIFE’S HAPPIEST HOURS Best, I guess, Was the old “_Recess_.”— ’Way back there’s where I’d love to be— Shet of each lesson and hateful rule, When the whole round World was as sweet to me As the big ripe apple I brung to School. MARION-COUNTY MAN HOMESICK ABROAD I, who had hobnobbed with the shades of kings, And canvassed grasses from old masters’ graves, And in cathedrals stood and looked at things In niches, crypts and naves;— My heavy heart was sagging with its woe, Nor Hope to prop it up, nor Promise, nor One woman’s hands—and O I wanted so To be felt sorry for! BIRDY! BIRDY!