Hark! out of the new church, deep and strong,
Hear the great pipes joyous swell!
I sit and dream and contented am,
For Someone is by my fire,

Sweet as in the days of the crimson tam,
When we sang in the old church choir.

THE OLD SWIMMIN'-HOLE

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep

Looked like a baby-river that was lying half asleep,
And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to
know

Before we could remember anything but the eyes
Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise;

But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle, And it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'hole.

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the happy days of yore,
When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore,
Oh! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide
That gazed back at me so gay and glorified,
It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress

My shadder smilin' up at me with sich tenderness.
But them days is past and gone, and old Time's tuck

his toll

From the old man come back to the old swimmin'

hole.

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the long, lazy days When the humdrum of school made so many run-a

ways,

How plesant was the jurney down the old dusty lane, Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so

planc

You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole They was lots o' fun on hand at the old swimmin'

hole.

But the lost joys is past! Let your tears in sorrow roll Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin'

hole.

Thare the bulrushes growed, and the cattails so tall,
And the sunshine and shadder fell over it all;
And it mottled the worter with amber and gold
Tel the glad lilies rocked in the ripples that rolled;
And the snake-feeder's four gauzy wings fluttered by
Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the sky,
Or a wownded apple-blossom in the breeze's controle
As it cut acrost some orchurd to'rds the old swimmin'-
hole.

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! When I last saw the place,
The scenes was all changed, like the change in my face;
The bridge of the railroad now crosses the spot
Whare the old divin'-log lays sunk and fergot.

And I stray down the banks whare the trees ust to be

But never again will theyr shade shelter me!

And I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul,

And dive off in my grave like the old swimmin'-hole.

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs

away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth,

an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;

An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

Ef you
Don't

Watch

Out!

Wunst they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,— An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,

An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!

An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby hole, an' press,

An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres,

I guess;

But all they ever found was thist his pants an' rounda

An' the Gobble-uns'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks
wuz there,

She mocked'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an'

hide,

They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,

An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you

Ef you
Don't

Watch
Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue, An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away, You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,

An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's

tear,

An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about, Er the Gobble-uns'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,

As I turn it low to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes, And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke

Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.

'Tis a fragrant retrospection -- for the loving thoughts that start

Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart;

And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweetheart of mine.

Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of

wings,