#AmericanWriters
They ain’t no style about 'em, And they’re sorto’ pale and faded, Yit the doorway here, without ‘em, Would be lonesomer, and shaded With a good ’eal blacker shudder
Pap’s got his patent-right, and ri… But where’s the peace and comfort… Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggs… Back where we ust to be so happy a… The likes of us a-livin’ here! It…
The midnight is not more bewilderi… To her drowsed eyes, than to her e… Of dim, sweet singing voices, inte… With purl of flute and subtle twan… Strained through the lattice, wher…
The pipes of Pan! Not idler now a… Than when their cunning fashioner… The pith of music from them: Yet… And me their notes are blown in ma… Lost in our murmurings for that ol…
The harp of the minstrel has never… As sad as the song in his bosom to… For the magical touch of his finge… Can not waken the echoes that brea… But oh! as the smile of the moon m…
A was an elegant Ape Who tied up his ears with red tape… And wore a long veil Half revealing his tail Which was trimmed with jet bugles…
I’ got no patience with blues at a… And I ust to kindo talk Aginst ‘em, and claim, ’tel along… They was none in the fambly stock; But a nephew of mine, from Eelino…
It is my dream to have you here wi… Out of the heated city’s dust and… Here where the colts have room to… And kine to graze, in clover to th… I want to see your wan face happil…
The greeting of the company throug… Was like a jubilee,—the children’s… And fusillading hand-claps, with g… And detonations of the older ones, Raged to such tumult of tempestuou…
For the sake of guilty conscience,… time Of the clockworks of my nature, I… A weak and sinful creature, as reg… The last five years and better. I…
To hear her sing—to hear her sing— It is to hear the birds of Spring In dewy groves on blooming sprays Pour out their blithest roundelays… It is to hear the robin trill
The air falls chill; The whippoorwill Pipes lonesomely behind the Hill: The dusk grows dense, The silence tense;
Our Land—our Home—the common home… Of soil-born children and adopted… The stately daughters and the stal… Of Industry—: All greeting and go… O home to proudly live for, and if…
I crave, dear Lord, No boundless hoard Of gold and gear, Nor jewels fine, Nor lands, nor kine,
The ripest peach is highest on the… And so her love, beyond the reach… Is dearest in my sight. Sweet bre… Her heart down to me where I wors… She looms aloft where every eye ma…