. Dreams and realities . metimes Im digging post holes, Sometimes I sow the corn,Or I take the cows to pasture In the sweet dew-laden house or field, at work or play, Fin happy still, you see—Im working for somebody, Somebody that loves the very best of all is, I know you will agree,I love this little darling, And trust her perfectly. 0, no; Im never jealous— Her smiles are all for likes the other boys, But dont love them, you go to see her Sundays, And take her hand in mine—I tell her that I love her, And see her gray eyes this is best of all, boys, I kno
. Dreams and realities . metimes Im digging post holes, Sometimes I sow the corn,Or I take the cows to pasture In the sweet dew-laden house or field, at work or play, Fin happy still, you see—Im working for somebody, Somebody that loves the very best of all is, I know you will agree,I love this little darling, And trust her perfectly. 0, no; Im never jealous— Her smiles are all for likes the other boys, But dont love them, you go to see her Sundays, And take her hand in mine—I tell her that I love her, And see her gray eyes this is best of all, boys, I know youll all agree,Im as happy as a June bug When she says she loves me. No; I never mind the weather,Be it hot or wet or cold; CONTENTMENT. 187 I have a little sweetheart Whos worth her weight in Im about as happy, As a fellow gets to be—Who stops this side of heaven And lives on earth, you the very best is this, boys, Now every one will agree:My little girl Fm working for Says she will marry XES ALL THE WORLD TO ME. I^HEKES a certain young fellow,You may know him well—Hes handsome as handsome can be;But his name and the -placeThat he lives I wont tell,For hes all this wide world to me. Hes as courtly in manner As any young king;And strange as the story may be,Though all the fair lasses His praises do sing,He says he loves no one but me. Hes honest and brave, Hes noble and true;And I know that you all will agreeThat if he were yours Youd say as I do,That hes all of this wide world to me. MY FIRST LOVE. I WAS eighteen, she was twenty,The spring I met her first;And the moment that I heard her speak It seemed my heart would burst;For her voice was sweet as music, And her face was pure and fair;Her soft eyes were deepest hazel—Brown, with gleams of gold, her hair. I was but a country boy; She was city born and was shy and strangely awkward; So I know not what I saidIn that hour when first I met her; But I felt her wondrous power,Felt the mag
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