Tell You What I Like The Best

Somebody's Sent A Funny Little Valentine To Me. It's A Bunch Of Baby-roses In A Vase Of Filigree, And Hovering Above Them ... Is A Fairy Cupid Tangled In A Scarf Of Poetry.

O'er Folded Blooms On Swirls Of Musk, The Beetle Booms Adown The Glooms And Bumps Along The Dusk.

But The Air's So Appetizin'; And The Landscape Through The Haze Of A Crisp And Sunny Morning Of The Airly Autumn Days Is A Pictur' That No Painter Has The Colorin' To Mock-when The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

I Cannot Say, And I Will Not Say That He Is Dead. He Is Just Away. With A Cheery Smile, And A Wave Of The Hand, He Has Wandered Into An Unknown Land And Left Us Dreaming How Very Fair It Needs Must Be, Since He Lingers There. And You - Oh You, Who The Wildest Yearn For An Old-time Step, And The Glad Return, Think Of Him Faring On, As Dear In The Love Of There As The Love Of Here. Think Of Him Still As The Same. I Say, He Is Not Dead - He Is Just Away.

The Ripest Peach Is Highest On The Tree