#AmericanWriters
He faced his canvas (as a seer who… Pierces the crust of this existenc… And smiled beyond on that his geni… Ere mated with his being. Conscio… Of his high theme alone, he smiled…
What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'a… And ripples up my backbone tel I’… Kindo’ like that sweet-sick feelin… The first you ever swung in, with… Yer first picnic—yer first ice-cre…
Such a dear little street it is, n… From the noise of the city and hea… In cool shady coverts of whisperin… With their leaves lifted up to sha… Which in all its wide wanderings n…
A day of torpor in the sullen heat Of Summer’s passion: In the slugg… The panting cattle lave their lazy… With drowsy eyes, and dream. Long since the winds have died, an…
Ho! green fields and running brook… Knotted strings and fishing-hooks Of the truant, stealing down Weedy backways of the town. Where the sunshine overlooks,
I’m twins, I guess, 'cause my Ma… I’m two little girls. An’ one o’… Is _Good_ little girl; an’ th’oth… Is _Bad little girl as she can be… An’ Ma say so, 'most ever’ day.
With a sweeter voice than birds Dare to twitter in their sleep, Pipe for me a tune of words, Till my dancing fancies leap Into freedom vaster far
Grand Haven is in Michigan, and i… Of as many rare attractions as our… The fine hotel, the landlord, and… And the dainty-neat completeness o… The touch on the piano in the parl…
‘Why do I sing—Tra-la-la-la-la! Glad as a King?—Tra-la-la-la-la! Well, since you ask,— I have such a pleasant task, I can not help but sing!
It was a Jolly Miller lived on th… He looked upon his piller, and the… 'O Mr. Flea! you have bit’ me, And you shall shorely die!' So he scrunched his bones against…
The Hoosier Folk-Child—all unsun… Unlettered all of mind and tongue; Unmastered, unmolested—made Most wholly frank and unafraid: Untaught of any school—unvexed
The man that rooms next door to me… Two weeks ago, this very night, He took possession quietly, As any other lodger might— But why the room next mine should…
'Twas the height of the fete when… And quietly stole to the terrace a… Where, pale as the lovers that eve… The moon it … The sight of the stars and the moo…
Wilful we are in our infirmity Of childish questioning and discon… Whate’er befalls us is divinely me… Thou Truth the clearer for thy my… Make us to meet what is or is to b…
A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly—sing it low— Sing it softly—like the lisping of… When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled