Songs from the Ozarks; and other poems . neath the trees— Of swelling buds and busy bees. I sing the song of hill and vale. Of mocking bird, and thrush, and quail; Of little wren and oriole. Of chipmunk, and the velvet mole. —5— SONGS FROM THE OZARKS I sing of winds that softly blow. Of evening sunsets golden glow; Of azure skies with tinted hue, And morning glories freshed with dew. I sing, untrammeled by mans art, The songs of dear old natures heart, The songs of winds and woods and streams, And starlight nights, and pale moonbeams. EYES OF BLUE I love the woods—indeed I do— I love the hills
Songs from the Ozarks; and other poems . neath the trees— Of swelling buds and busy bees. I sing the song of hill and vale. Of mocking bird, and thrush, and quail; Of little wren and oriole. Of chipmunk, and the velvet mole. —5— SONGS FROM THE OZARKS I sing of winds that softly blow. Of evening sunsets golden glow; Of azure skies with tinted hue, And morning glories freshed with dew. I sing, untrammeled by mans art, The songs of dear old natures heart, The songs of winds and woods and streams, And starlight nights, and pale moonbeams. EYES OF BLUE I love the woods—indeed I do— I love the hills and vales;I love the violets so blue, And flowers in the dales. I love the honeysuckle, too,And dogwood, all in bloom; I love sweet blossoms freshed with reeds and rush in plume. I love the leaves that fall from trees,I love the greenwood brush, I love to lie in silent easeAmidst old natures hush. I love the wren, the sparrow, too. The little thrush and quail;I love the birds of red and blue, And mocking birds I A saucy, teasing blue-eyed girl,Who says she loves me, too. SONGS FROM THE OZARKS I love the lark, the whippoorwill,The jaybird and the dove; I love the gentle flowing rill—They lift my thoughts above. But, best of all, I love a girl—A girl with eyes of blue; A saucy, teasing blue-eyed says she loves me, too. A PICTURE ON A CALENDAR A mountain reaching to the skies, A valley spread to view;A cabin on a gentle rise, And clouds oerhead of blue;The cattle wading in the stream. The sunset in the west;A picture lovely as a dream. That lulls you to sweet rest. TIS A BONNY LAND Tis a bonny land of ours, Where the pinks and daisies full many lovely flowers. With a blushing beauty blow;And the birds forever singing With a melody so the soul with rapture winging. Keeps true measure with each beat. —7— SONGS FROM THE OZARKS There are mossy dells and bowers, Where the lassies love to go;And the sunsets golden showers Fi
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidsongsfromoza, bookyear1922
