w cells,
An' swell with love once more.
And with the blue skies overhead,
The harsh an' hasty words we've said
Will vanish with the snow an' ice,
When spring unlocks the door.

The sun will make us sweet again
With blossoms at our feet again;
We'll wander, arm in arm, the ways
Where beauty reigns supreme.
An' Ma an' I shall smile again,
An' be ourselves awhile again,
An' claim, like prisoners set free,
The charm of every dream.

The Cut-Down Trousers

When father couldn't wear them mother cut them down for me;
She took the slack in fore and aft, and hemmed them at the knee;
They fitted rather loosely, but the things that made me glad
Were the horizontal pockets that those good old trousers had.

They shone like patent leather just where well-worn breeches do,
But the cloth in certain portions was considered good as new,
And I know that I was envied by full many a richer lad
For the horizontal pockets that those good old knickers had.

They were cut along the waist line, with the opening straight and wide,
And there wasn't any limit to what you could get inside;
They would hold a peck of marbles, and a knife and top and string,
And snakes and frogs and turtles; there was room for everything.

Then our fortune changed a little, and my mother said that she
Wouldn't bother any longer fitting father's duds on me,
But the store clothes didn't please me; there were times they made me
sad,
For I missed those good old pockets that my father's trousers had.

Dinner-Time

Tuggin' at your bottle,
An' it's O, you're mighty sweet!
Just a bunch of dimples
From your top-knot to your feet,
Lying there an' gooin'
In the happiest sort o' way,
Like a rosebud peekin' at me
In the early hours o' day;
Gloating over goodness
That you know an' sense an' clutch,
An' smilin' at your daddy,
Who loves you, O, so much!

Tuggin' at your bottle,
As you nestle in your crib,
With your daddy grinnin' at you
'Cause you've dribbled on your bib,
An' you gurgle an' you chortle
Like a brook in early Spring;
An' you kick your pink feet gayly,
An' I think you'd like to sing.
All you wanted was your dinner,
Daddy knew it too, you bet!
An' the moment that you got it
Then you ceased to fuss an' fret.

Tuggin' at your bottle,
Not a care, excepting when
You lose the rubber nipple,
But you find it soon again;
An' the gurglin' an' the gooin'
An' the chortlin' start anew,
An' the kickin