Will Carleton

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, read more

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, his feet at the top of a
chair,
His chair-arm an elbow supporting, his right hand upholding his
head,
His eyes on his dusty table, with different documents spread.

Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
read more

Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
To thank the Lord for blessing o'er,
As for the sake of getting more!

But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate,
When we lock up our read more

But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate,
When we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too
late.

Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
Sheltered in a golden coating;
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
read more

Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
Sheltered in a golden coating;
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
White and dainty cloudlets floating;
Winking at the blushing trees,
And the sombre, furrowed fallow;
Smiling at the airy ease,
Of the southward flying swallow
Sweet and smiling are thy ways,
Beauteous, golden Autumn days.

Underneath an apple-tree
Sat a maiden and her lover;
And the thoughts within her he
read more

Underneath an apple-tree
Sat a maiden and her lover;
And the thoughts within her he
Yearned, in silence, to discover.
Round them danced the sunbeams bright,
Green the grass-lawn stretched before them
While the apple blossoms white
Hung in rich profusion o'er them.