#AmericanWriters
(SEPTEMBER, 1779) ‘Have a care!’ the bailiffs cried From their cockleshell that lay Off the frigate’s yellow side, Tossing on Scarborough Bay,
There is peace in the swamp where… Where the waters are stagnant, the… Where the musk of Magnolia hangs… And the lilies’ phylacteries broad… There is peace in the swamp, thoug…
If Mr. Jones, Lycurgus B., Had one peculiar quality, ’Twas his severe advocacy Of conjugal fidelity. His views of heaven were very free…
(BIG PINE FLAT, 1871) ‘Something characteristic,’ eh? Humph! I reckon you mean by that Something that happened in our way… Here at the crossin’ of Big Pine…
‘Crying!’ Of course I am crying,… too, If people were telling such storie… Oh yes, you can laugh if you want… how,
(TABLE MOUNTAIN, 1870) Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain,
(MOUTH OF THE SHAFT) What I want is my husband, sir,— And if you’re a man, sir, You’ll give me an answer,— Where is my Joe?
(AN IDYL OF THE BALUSTER… BOBBY, aetat. 3 1/2. JOHNNY,… BOBBY Do you know why they’ve put us in… Up in the attic, close against the…
Affection’s charm no longer gilds The idol of the shrine; But cold Oblivion seeks to fill Regret’s ambrosial wine. Though Friendship’s offering buri…
No life in earth, or air, or sky; The sunbeams, broken silently, On the bared rocks around me lie,- Cold rocks with half-warmed lichen… And scales of moss; and scarce a y…
Behind the footlights hangs the ru… A trifle shabby in the upturned bl… Of flaring gas and curious eyes th… The stage, methinks, perhaps is no… And hardly fit for royal Richard’…
It is the story of Thompson—of Th… Frequently drunk was Thompson, bu… Light and free was the touch of T… Great the mortality incident on th… Yet not happy or gay was Thompson…
It was noon by the sun; we had fin… And was passin’ remarks goin’ back… Jones was countin’ his chips, Smi… Of ideas that a 'straight’ should… When Johnson of Elko came gallopi…
(WAR OF THE REBELLION, 188… No, I won’t,—thar, now, so! And i… And thar’s nary to tell that you f… And it’s ‘Belle, tell us, do!’ an… And 'Wot’s this yer yarn of the M…
This is the reed the dead musician… With tuneful magic in its sheath s… The prompt allegro of its music st… Its melodies unbidden. But who shall finish the unfinishe…