O, Gentle Shade Of Quiet Woods.

    O, gentle shade of quiet woods,
        Where nature dwells in leafy halls,
        I love the sacred voice that falls
    In music o'er thy solitudes!
    Within thine arms the weary heart
        Is hidden from the toils of men,
    And pleasure makes ambition start
        Into a nobler life again.

    Among the fragrant shadows throng
        With all the riches of their truth,
        Glad echoes from the days of youth
    And mingle into laughing song;
    While angel fingers touch the keys
        That slumber in the silent breast,
    Till mem'ry wakes her lullabies
        And childhood fancies rock to rest.

    Again the hours of early joy
        Upon the aged years intrude,
        And dance amid the summer wood
    The golden dreamings of the boy;
    Again the songs of wonder thrill
        The days of life with gladness wild,
    And lofty visions fondly fill
        The longing fancies of the child.

    Enchanted choirs of baby years,
        Sweet dirges from the cradle's keys,
        The glories of your harmonies
    Impel my secret soul to tears!
    The roses of my fancies fade
        Into the dust of wicked strife,
    And all the promise boyhood made
        Has proved the desert of my life.

    O, fragrant woods of happy times,
        Fair children of the glowing days,
        How sweet the music of your lays
    Is mingled into fairy chimes!
    Ye lisp again the songs of yore,
        The stories of my infant years,
    And throw a sweeter cadence o'er
        My hoary sorrows and my tears!

Freeman Edwin Miller

Freeman Edwin Miller was an American poet, journalist, and teacher, best known for his work in Oklahoma. Born on November 9, 1864, in New Jersey, Miller moved to Oklahoma in 1894, where he became a prominent figure in the literary and educational communities. He is remembered for his contributions to early Oklahoma literature, as well as his work in promoting education and journalism in the region. He passed away on July 14, 1951.

Freeman Edwin Miller

The Songs That Mother Used To Sing.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

O, Weak And Weary World!

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

Dear Songs Of My Country!

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

The Banks O' Turkey Run.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

English

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Sweet Fairies From The Isles Of Song.

    Sweet fairies from the isles of song,
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Sing Me The Old Songs, Mother.

    Our souls are the deserts of sorrow,
        Our hearts are the ashes of hope,
    And madly from gladness we borrow
        The brightness where sadness may grope;
    My raptures in wretchedness vanish,
        My bosom is weeping with wrongs;
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Ex Anima.

    The gloomy hours of silence wake
        Remembrance and her train,
    And phantoms through the fancies chase
        The mem'ries that remain;
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        Of days that now are gone,
    I see a form, a fairy form,
        And fancy hurries on!

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O, Sacred Souls That Grandly Sing.

    O sacred souls that grandly sing
        The secret songs of human hearts,
        Where your wild music madly starts,
    The sorrows into raptures spring!
    Within the warbles of your chimes
        Man reads the longings of his days,
        And finds, amid your lofty lays,
    Glad music for his gloomy times.

    How sweet the mute, melodious cries
        Which only lives like yours may hear,
        Where pleasures thrill the singer's ear
    With laughing strains of lullabies!
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        To bless the silent solitudes
    With carols coming from above.

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Away, Away, From The Sultry Ways.

    Away, away, from the sultry ways
        Where the pleasures fall and fade,
    To the bannered corn and the meadowed bloom
        And the forest's cooling shade!

    Afar, afar, from the rooms of care
        With the toils of life distressed,
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        And the quiet vales of rest!

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        And the wildwood's tangled ways!

    To margins wide of the woodland pools,
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