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Sunset-land Post by :tycoon88 Category :Poems Author :Joseph Crosby Lincoln Date :May 2011 Read :598

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Climb to my knee, little boy, little boy,--
If you look, as the sun sinks low,
Where the cloud-hills rise in the western skies,
Each one with its crest aglow,
O'er the rosy sea, where the purple isles
Have beaches of golden sand,
To the fleecy height of the great cloud, white,
You may catch a gleam of the twinkling light
At the harbor of Sunset-land.

It's a wonderful place, little boy, little boy,
And its city is Sugarplum Town,
Where the slightest breeze through the candy trees
Will tumble the bon-bons down;
Where the fountains sprinkle their lemonade
In syrupy, cooling streams;
And they pave each street with a goody, sweet,
And mark them off in a manner neat,
With borders of chocolate creams.

It's a children's town, little boy, little boy,
With a great big jail, you know,
Where "grown-ups" stay who are heard to say,
"Now don't!" or "You mustn't do so."
And half of the time it is Fourth of July,
And 'tis Christmas all the rest,
With plenty of toys that will make a noise,
For Santa is king of this realm of joys,
And knows what a lad likes best.

Shall I tell you the way, little boy, little boy,
To get to this country, bright?
When you're snug in bed, and your prayers are said,
You must shut up your eyelids tight;
And wait till the sleepy old Sandman comes
And gives you his kindly hand,
And then you'll float in a drowsy boat,
O'er the sea of rose to the cloud, remote,
And the wonderful Sunset-land.

(The end)
Joseph Crosby Lincoln's poem: Sunset-Land

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The Surf Along The Shore The Surf Along The Shore

The Surf Along The Shore
Ye children of the mountain, sing of your craggy peaks,Your valleys forest laden, your cliffs where Echo speaks;And ye, who by the prairies your childhood's joys have seen,Sing of your waving grasses, your velvet miles of green:But when my memory wanders down to the dear old homeI hear, amid my dreaming, the seething of the foam,The wet wind through the pine trees, the sobbing crash and roar,The mighty surge and thunder of the surf along the shore.I see upon the sand-dunes the beach-grass sway and swing,I see the whirling sea-birds sweep by on graceful wing,I see the silver breakers leap high

In Mother's Room In Mother's Room

In Mother's Room
In Mother's room still stands the chairBeside the sunny window The flowers she loved now lightly stir In April's breeze, as though they wereForlorn without her loving care.Her books, her work-box, all are there,And still the snowy curtains bear The soft, sweet scent of lavender In Mother's room.Oh, spot so cool, and fresh, and fair,Where dwelt a soul so pure and rare, On me your fragrant peace confer, Make my life sweet with thoughts of her,As lavender makes sweet the air In Mother's room.(The end)Joseph Crosby Lincoln's poem: In