PREFACE.
THE poems now collected for the first time have been contributed during several years to various publications—the earlier ones to Harper's Magazine and Weekly, and most of the later ones to the N. Y. Ledger. Copied by other papers, with due credit given, perhaps, at first, some of them have become nameless waifs floating on the sea of print.
The poor "Picket," whose unquiet ghost refuses to remain laid "All Quiet along the Potomac," where I left him years ago, has several claimants, all with "authentic proofs of authorship," and "Which shall it Be?" reappears under various titles at regular intervals.
So I have gathered, for the friendly hands that care to hold it, this handful of white clover and daisies. I have found Life's poetry and pathos blooming beside its trodden paths and by the doorways of its homes. If some gentle heart shall find within this sheaf some treasured waif or song remembered, or if words yet unfamiliar bring to me one new friend, I have not rhymed in vain.
Orange, June 2, 1879.
