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But all the joys in memory stored No sweeter thought can bring
Than those of draughts from out the gourd, With Nell, beside the spring.
A LITTLE SHOE.
Thar ain't much poetry, that's a fact,
In a pa'r of worn out shoes, But I've seen truck agoin', that lacked
As much of soul, or the muse.
I've got a shoe, 'bout's big's my thumb,
All gone at the heel and toe, That makes my poor old heartstrings thrum
To the tune of long ago.
It's the shoe of a little baby boy, Who was two or three worlds to me,
He come and went, and took all the joy That ever I reckon to see.
The mother that bore him went along, And it broke my heart in two;
Sometimes I hear her lullaby song When I'm holding that tiny shoe.