| [A convalescin' woman does the strangest sort o' things,] | 176 |
| [A feller don't start in to think of himself,] | 174 |
| [A feller isn't thinkin' mean out fishin',] | 48 |
| [A little ship goes out to sea,] | 66 |
| [Along the paths o' glory there are faces new to-day,] | 61 |
| [An apple tree beside the way,] | 60 |
| [Before you came, my little lad,] | 77 |
| [Best way to read a book I know,] | 122 |
| [Cliffs of Scotland, guard them well,] | 63 |
| [Down to work o' mornings an' back to home at nights,] | 188 |
| [Eagerly he took my dime,] | 133 |
| [First thing in the morning, last I hear at night,] | 72 |
| [Full many a flag the breeze has kissed,] | 28 |
| [Give me the house where the toys are strewn,] | 30 |
| [Glad to get back home again,] | 82 |
| [God grant me these: the strength to do,] | 17 |
| [God grant that we shall never see,] | 76 |
| [God made the little boys for fun,] | 103 |
| [Got a sliver in my hand,] | 34 |
| [He couldn't use his driver any better on the tee,] | 184 |
| [He shall be great who serves his country well,] | 105 |
| [He was battle-scarred and ugly,] | 180 |
| [I can't help thinkin' o' the lad,] | 94 |
| [I do not ask a store of wealth,] | 166 |
| [I don't see why Pa likes him so,] | 26 |
| [I have no wish, my little lad,] | 156 |
| [I hold the finest picture books,] | 53 |
| [I like to get to thinking of the old days that are gone,] | 128 |
| [I look into the faces of the people passing by,] | 22 |
| [I remember the excitement and the terrible alarm,] | 24 |
| [I think my country needs my vote,] | 131 |
| [I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books,] | 90 |
| [I wonder what the trees will say,] | 134 |
| [I wonder where's a better job than buying cake and meat,] | 142 |
| [I would rather be the daddy,] | 52 |
| [I'd like to think when life is done,] | 36 |
| [If I could have my wish to-night,] | 120 |
| [I'm just the man to make things right,] | 55 |
| ["I'm never alone in the garden," he said,] | 170 |
| [I'm sorry for a feller if he hasn't any aunt,] | 88 |
| [Is it all in the envelope holding your pay?] | 150 |
| [Isn't it fine when the day is done,] | 13 |
| [It is faith that bridges the land of breath,] | 111 |
| [Last night I caught him on his knees,] | 70 |
| [Let loose the sails of love and let them fill,] | 33 |
| [Little girlie, kneeling there,] | 152 |
| [Little lady at the altar,] | 58 |
| [Men talk too much of gold and fame,] | 143 |
| [My father is a peaceful man,] | 46 |
| [My father knows the proper way,] | 80 |
| [My Pa can hit his thumbnail,] | 186 |
| [Oh, my shoulders grow aweary,] | 112 |
| [Old women say that men don't know,] | 124 |
| [One day the doctor came because my throat was feeling awful sore,] | 163 |
| [One never knows how far a word of kindness goes,] | 31 |
| [Pete bristles when the doorbell rings,] | 157 |
| [She is gentle, kind and fair,] | 67 |
| [She never closed her eyes in sleep,] | 20 |
| ["Some day," says Ma, "I'm goin' to get,] | 64 |
| [Some folks there be who seem to need excitement,] | 138 |
| [Some have the gift of song,] | 98 |
| [Somebody said that it couldn't be done,] | 37 |
| [Sometimes I'm almost glad to hear,] | 162 |
| [Strange thoughts come to the man alone,] | 145 |
| [Sure, they get stubborn at times,] | 79 |
| ["Tell us a story," comes the cry,] | 18 |
| [The children bring us laughter,] | 108 |
| [The dead return; I know they do,] | 84 |
| [The doctor leads a busy life,] | 114 |
| [The father toils at his work all day,] | 123 |
| [The golden dreamboat's ready,] | 158 |
| [The good old-fashioned mothers,] | 160 |
| [The kids at our house number three,] | 117 |
| [The little house has grown too small,] | 50 |
| [The little woman, to her I bow,] | 92 |
| [There are little eyes upon you,] | 172 |
| [There may be finer pleasures than just tramping with your boy,] | 116 |
| [There will always be something to do,] | 119 |
| [There's a bump on his brow,] | 69 |
| [There's a little chap at our house,] | 56 |
| [There's nothing cheers a fellow up just like a hearty greeting,] | 15 |
| [There's the mother at the doorway,] | 11 |
| [These joys are free to all who live,] | 171 |
| [They come to my room at the break of day,] | 165 |
| ["They tie you down," a woman said,] | 74 |
| [They've hung their stockings up with care,] | 102 |
| [Though some may yearn for titles great,] | 44 |
| [Tuggin' at your bottle,] | 149 |
| [Under the roof where the laughter rings,] | 32 |
| [We cannot count our friends, nor say,] | 43 |
| [We play at our house and have all sorts of fun,] | 16 |
| [We're gittin' so we need again,] | 146 |
| [We've never seen the Father here,] | 153 |
| [Whatever the task and whatever the risk,] | 109 |
| [When a little baby dies,] | 155 |
| [When an old man gets to thinking,] | 140 |
| [When father couldn't wear them,] | 147 |
| ["When I am rich," he used to say,] | 130 |
| [When I was but a little lad,] | 168 |
| [When mother baked an angel cake,] | 96 |
| [When Mrs. Malone got a letter from Pat,] | 41 |
| [When we've honored the heroes returning from France,] | 136 |
| [When winter shuts a fellow in,] | 86 |
| [Whenever I walk through God's Acres of Dead,] | 178 |
| [Who shall sit at the table, then,] | 40 |
| [With time our notions allus change,] | 182 |
| [You can brag about the famous men you know,] | 126 |
| [You can learn a lot from boys,] | 100 |
| [You never hear the robins brag,] | 38 |
| [You shall have satin and silk to wear,] | 106 |
| ["You're spoiling them!" the mother cries,] | 14 |