And what is more her name so sweet,
So charming, dainty, nice and neat,
Darling Hattie, short and pretty,
And that’s why I wrote this ditty.
LINES ON MY FATHER.
The oak its mighty branches spread,
And gathered in the cooling dew,
And thus by gen’rous nature fed,
To a noble old tree it grew.
So sought he knowledge far and wide,
And grew in wisdom as in age,
And when his worn out body died,
He was a ripe and honored sage.
ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET.
First think of something good to say,
Then take great pains to say it well,
Make sure you know the proper way,
To fairly write and rightly spell.
Now clear all matter from your mind,
Except the work you have in hand,
And study hard until you find
Good rhyming words at your command.
Compose one verse from end to end,
With equal feet in every line,
See that the words in metre blend,
And that the rhyme is true and fine.