-
'I’m an owl; you’re another. Sir Critic, good day.'And the barber kept on shaving.
James Thomas Fields -
Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,The owl very gravely got down from his perch,Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic.
James Thomas Fields
-
A farmer travelling with his load Picked up a horseshoe on the road, And nailed if fast to his barn door, That luck might down upon him pour; That every blessing known in life Might crown his homestead and his wife, And never any kind of harm Descend upon his growing farm.
James Thomas Fields -
Oh, to be home again, home again, home again! Under the apple-boughs, down by the mill!
James Thomas Fields -
Is n’t God upon the ocean Just the same as on the land?
James Thomas Fields -
The skipper stormed and tore his hair, Hauled on his boots and roared at Marden-'Nantucket's sunk and here we areRight over old Marm Hackett’s garden!'
James Thomas Fields