[Illustration: Noon-time and June-time down around the river] [Illustration: Down Around The River--Tailpiece] AT AUNTY'S HOUSE [Illustration: At Aunty's House--Title] One time, when we'z at Aunty's house-- 'Way in the country!--where They's ist but woods--an' pigs, an' cows-- An' all's out-doors an' air!-- An' orchurd-swing; an' churry-trees-- An' _churries_ in 'em!--Yes, an' these-- Here red-head birds steals all they please, An' tetch 'em ef you dare!-- W'y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, _We et out on the porch!_ [Illustration: We et out on the porch] Wite where the cellar-door wuz shut The table wuz; an' I Let Aunty set by me an' cut My vittuls up--an' pie. 'Tuz awful funny!--I could see The red-heads in the churry-tree; An' bee-hives, where you got to be So keerful, goin' by;-- An' "Comp'ny" there an' all!--an' we-- _We et out on the porch!_ An' I ist et _p'surves_ an' things 'At Ma don't 'low me to-- An' _chickun-gizzurds_--(don't like _wings_ Like _Parunts_ does! do _you?_) An' all the time, the wind blowed there, An' I could feel it in my hair, An' ist smell clover _ever'_where!-- An' a' old red-head flew Purt' nigh wite over my high-chair, _When we et on the porch!_ THE DAYS GONE BY [Illustration: The Days Gone By--Title] O the days gone by! O the days gone by! The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye; The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale; When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky, And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days gone by. [Illustration: In the orchard] In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped By the honeysuckle tangles where the water-lilies dipped, And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along the brink, Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink, And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant's wayward cry And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by. O the days gone by! O the days gone by! The music of the laughing lip, the lustre of the eye; The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin's magic ring-- The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything,-- When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh, In the golden olden glory of the days gone by. THE BUMBLEBEE