Later books are _Dreams in Homespun_, _Songs of War and Peace_, _Songs of the Average Man_.
[Illustration: SAM WALTER FOSS] He had charge of the Public Library at Somerville, Massachusetts, and his influence in library matters extended all over New England.
His poems are marked by simplicity.

Most of his songs are written in New England dialect which he has used with unsurpassed effect.

But this poetry was always of the simplest kind, of the appealing nature which reaches the heart.

Of his work and his aim, he said in his first volume: "It is not the greatest singer Who tries the loftiest themes, He is the true joy bringer Who tells his simplest dreams, He is the greatest poet Who will renounce all art And take his heart and show it To any other heart; Who writes no learned riddle, But sings his simplest rune, Takes his heart-strings for a fiddle, And plays his easiest tune." Mr.Foss _always_ had to recite the following poem when he called at Breezy Meadows THE CONFESSIONS OF A LUNKHEAD I'm a lunkhead, an' I know it; 'taint no use to squirm an' talk, I'm a gump an' I'm a lunkhead, I'm a lummux, I'm a gawk, An' I make this interduction so that all you folks can see An' understan' the natur' of the critter thet I be.
I allus wobble w'en I walk, my j'ints are out er gear, My arms go flappin' through the air, jest like an el'phunt's ear; An' when the womern speaks to me I stutter an' grow weak, A big frog rises in my throat, an' he won't let me speak.
Wall, that's the kind er thing I be; but in our neighborhood Lived young Joe Craig an' young Jim Stump an' Hiram Underwood.
We growed like corn in the same hill, jest like four sep'rit stalks; For they wuz lunkheads, jest like me, an' lummuxes and gawks.
Now, I knew I wuz a lunkhead; but them fellers didn't know, Thought they wuz the biggest punkins an' the purtiest in the row.
An' I, I uster laff an' say, "Them lunkhead chaps will see W'en they go out into the worl' w'at gawky things they be." Joe Craig was a lunkhead, but it didn't get through his pate; I guess you all heerd tell of him--he's governor of the state; Jim Stump, he blundered off to war--a most uncommon gump-- Didn't know enough to know it--'an he came home General Stump.
Then Hiram Underwood went off, the bigges' gawk of all, We hardly thought him bright enough to share in Adam's fall; But he tried the railroad biz'ness, an' he allus grabbed his share,-- Now this gawk, who didn't know it, is a fifty millionaire.
An' often out here hoein' I set down atween the stalks, Thinkin' how we four together all were lummuxes an' gawks, All were gumps and lunkheads, only they didn't know, yer see; An' I ask, "If I hadn' known it, like them other fellers there, Today I might be settin' in the presidential chair." We all are lunkheads--don't get mad--an' lummuxes and gawks, But us poor chaps who know we be--we walk in humble walks.
So, I say to all good lunkheads, "Keep yer own selves in the dark; Don't own to reckernize the fact, an' you will make your mark." Next is the poem which is most quoted and best known: THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD "He was a friend to man, and lived in a house by the side of the road."-- HOMER.
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the peace of their self-content; There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart, In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran;-- But let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by-- The men who are good and the men who are bad, As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban;-- Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road, By the side of the highway of life, The men who press with the ardour of hope, The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- Both parts of an infinite plan;-- Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead And mountains of wearisome height; That the road passes on through the long afternoon And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travellers rejoice, And weep with the strangers that moan, Nor live in my house by the side of the road Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road Where the race of men go by-- They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish--so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat Or hurl the cynic's ban ?-- Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
Mr.Foss's attribution to Homer used as a motto preceding his poem, "The House by the Side of the Road," is, no doubt, his translation of a passage from the _Iliad_, book vi., which, as done into English prose in the translation of Lang, Leaf and Myers, is as follows: Then Diomedes of the loud war-cry slew Axylos, Teuthranos' son that dwelt in stablished Arisbe, a man of substance dear to his fellows; _for his dwelling was by the road-side and he entertained all men_.
* * * * * SAM WALTER FOSS Sam Walter Foss was a poet of gentle heart.

His keen wit never had any sting.