Yellow Jasmine / Amelia E. Barr

Do angels come as flowers, O golden stars!

That I can hold within my small white palm?

Or were you dropped from o’er the crystal bars,

Filled with the perfume of celestial psalms?

The Old Piano / Amelia E. Barr

How still and dusky is the long closed room!

What lingering shadows and what sweet perfume

Of Eastern treasures; sandal-wood and scent,

With nard and cassia, and with roses blent:

Let in the sunshine.

The Farmer / Amelia E. Barr

The king may rule o’er land and sea,

The lord may live right royally,

The soldier ride in pomp and pride,

The sailor roam o’er ocean wide;

But this or that, whate’er befall,

The farmer he must feed them all.

My Little Brown Pipe / Amelia E. Barr

I have a little comforter

I carry in my pocket;

It is not any woman’s face

Set in a golden locket;

It is not any kind of purse,

It is not book or letter,

But yet at times, I really think,

That it is something better.

Help / Amelia E. Barr

My hands have often been weary hands,

Too tired to do their daily task;

And just to fold them forevermore

Has seemed the boon that was best to ask.

Comrades / Amelia E. Barr

There’s a blacksmith works not far away,

He is brawny and strong and tall;

He’s at his forge when the shadows lift,

And he’s there till the shadows fall.

Just when I leave the land of dreams,

At the Last / Amelia E. Barr

Now, poor tired hands, be still,

Toil-stained through Death’s white hue;

No need now for your skill,

No further task to do.

Folded across the breast,

Take calmest rest: