I Love The Horse From

As One Who Cons At Evening O'er An Album All Alone, And Muses On The Faces Of The Friends That He Has Known, So I Turn The Leaves Of Fancy, Till In Shadowy Design I Find The Smiling Features Of An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.

The Jelly - The Jam And The Marmalade, And The Cherry-and Quince-'preserves' She Made! And The Sweet-sour Pickles Of Peach And Pear, With Cinnamon In 'em, And All Things Rare! And The More We Ate Was The More To Spare, Out To Old Aunt Mary's! Ah!

And The Sun Had On A Crown Wrought Of Gilded Thistledown, And A Scarf Of Velvet Vapor And A Raveled Rainbow Gown; And His Tinsel-tangled Hair Tossed And Lost Upon The Air Was Glossier And Flossier Than Any Anywhere.

Who Bides His Time Tastes The Sweet Of Honey In The Saltiest Tear; And Though He Fares With Slowest Feet Joy Runs To Meet Him Drawing Near.

Oh, The World's A Curious Compound, With Its Honey And Its Gall, With Its Cares And Bitter Crosses, But A Good World After All. And A Good God Must Have Made It-leastways, That Is What I Say, When A Hand Is On My Shoulder In A Friendly Sort Of Way.