#AmericanWriters
W’en de banjos wuz a-ringin’, An’ de darkies wuz a-singin’, Oh, wuzen dem de good times sho! All de ole folks would be chattin’… An’ de pickaninnies pattin’,
O black and unknown bards of long… How came your lips to touch the sa… How, in your darkness, did you com… The power and beauty of the minstr… Who first from midst his bonds lif…
O Sleep, thou kindest minister to… Silent distiller of the balm of re… How wonderful thy power, when naug… To soothe the torn and sorrow-lade… When bleeding hearts no comforter…
Have you been sore discouraged in… And even sometimes weighted by the… That those with whom and those for… Lagged far behind, or dared but fa… And that the opposing forces in th…
I love to sit alone, and dream, And dream, and dream; In fancy’s boat to softly glide Along some stream Where fairy palaces of gold
W’en de leaves begin to fall, An’ de fros’ is on de ground, An’ de 'simmons is a-ripenin’ on d… W’en I heah de dinner call, An’ de chillen gadder 'round,
My heart be brave, and do not falt… Nor utter more that deep, despairi… Thy way is very dark and drear I… But do not let thy strength and co… For certain as the raven-winged ni…
No greater earthly boon than this… That those who some day gather ‘ro… In place of tears, may whisper of… ’He sang a song that reached the h…
And God stepped out on space, And he looked around and said: I’m lonely— I’ll make me a world. And far as the eye of God could s…
To chase a never-reached mirage Across the hot, white sand, And choke and die, while gazing on Its green and watered strand.
Cuddle down, ma honey, in yo’ bed, Go to sleep an’ res’ yo’ little he… Been a-kind o’ ailin’ all de day? Didn’t have no sperit fu’ to play? Never min’; to-morrer, w’en you we…
The glory of the day was in her fa… The beauty of the night was in her… And over all her loveliness, the g… Of Morning blushing in the early… And in her voice, the calling of t…
O Southland! O Southland! Have you not heard the call, The trumpet blown, the word made k… To the nations, one and all? The watchword, the hope-word,
Look heah! 'Splain to me de reaso… Why you said to Squire Lee, Der wuz twelve ole chicken thieves In dis heah town, includin’ me. Ef he tole you dat, my brudder,
The snow has ceased its fluttering… The wind sunk to a whisper light, An ominous stillness fills the nig… A pause—a hush. At last, a sound that breaks the s…