by Eugene Field The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket molds in his hands, Time was when the little toy dog was new And the soldier was passing fair, And that was the time when our […]

By Sara Teasdale Perhaps if death is kind, and there can be returning, We will come back to earth some fragrant night, And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. We will come down at night to these resounding beaches And the long gentle thunder of […]

When life as opening buds is sweet, And golden hopes the fancy greet, And Youth prepares his joys to meet, – – Alas! how hard it is to die! When just is seized some valued prize, And duties press, and tender ties Forbid the soul from earth to rise, – – How awful then it […]