My playmate and sister with bonnie blue eyes.
And I hope when my sojourn of usefulness here
Is past, to the place that my bosom holds dear
I may go, and there pillow my head 'neath the tree
Where robin and oriole chirrup in glee,
While my soul slips away from the spot that I love,
To old-fashioned gardens that grow up above.
DANCE OF THE RIPPLES.
I stood, one night, by the old St. Joe,