Ef a frien' comes mou'nin' 'Bout his awful case, You know you don' grieve him Wid a gloomy face, But you wrassle wid him, Try to tek him in; Dough hit cracks yo' features, Law, you smile lak sin, Ain't you good ez he is? Don' you pine to def; Tek a little trouble Brothah, wid yo'se'f. Ef de chillun pestahs, An' de baby's bad, Ef yo' wife gits narvous, An' you're gettin' mad, Des you grab yo' boot-strops, Hol' yo' body down, Stop a-tinkin' cuss-w'rds, Chase away de frown, Knock de haid o' worry, Twell dey ain' none lef'; Tek a little trouble, Brothah, wid yo'se'f. LIMITATIONS Ef you's only got de powah fe' to blow a little whistle, Keep ermong de people wid de whistles. Ef you don't, you'll fin' out sho'tly dat you's th'owed yo' fines' feelin' In a place dat's all a bed o' thistles. 'Tain't no use a-goin' now, ez sho's you bo'n, A-squeakin' of yo' whistle 'g'inst a gread big ho'n. Ef you ain't got but a teenchy bit o' victuals on de table, Whut' de use a-claimin' hit's a feas'? Fe' de folks is mighty 'spicious, an' dey's ap' to come apeerin', Lookin' fe' de scraps you lef' at leas'. Wen de meal's a-hidin' f'om de meal-bin's top, You needn't talk to hide it; ef you sta'ts, des stop. Ef yo' min' kin only carry half a pint o' common idees, Don' go roun' a-sayin' hit's a bar'l; 'Ca'se de people gwine to test you, an' dey'll fin' out you's a-lyin', Den dey'll twis' yo' sayin's in a snarl. Wuss t'ing in de country dat I evah hyahed-- A crow dot sat a-squawkin', "I's a mockin'-bird." A GOLDEN DAY I found you and I lost you, All on a gleaming day. The day was rilled with sunshine, And the land was full of May. A golden bird was singing Its melody divine, I found you and I loved you, And all the world was mine. I found you and I lost you, All on a golden day, But when I dream of you, dear, It is always brimming May. THE UNLUCKY APPLE 'Twas the apple that in Eden Caused our father's primal fall; And the Trojan War, remember-- 'Twas an apple caused it all. So for weeks I've hesitated, You can guess the reason why, For I want to tell my darling She's the apple of my eye. THE DISCOVERY These are the days of elfs and fays: Who says that with the dreams of myth, These imps and elves disport themselves? Ah no, along the paths of song Do all the tiny folk belong. Round all our homes, Kobolds and gnomes do daily cling, Then nightly fling their lanterns out. And shout on shout, they join the rout, And sing, and sing, within the sweet enchanted ring. Where gleamed the guile of moonlight's smile, Once paused I, listening for a while, And heard the lay, unknown by day,-- The fairies' dancing roundelay.