#AmericanWriters
Fold the little waxen hands Lightly. Let your warmest tears Speak regrets, but never fears,— Heaven understands! Let the sad heart, o’er the tomb,
Tommy’s alluz playin’ jokes, An’ actin’ up, an’ foolin’ folks; An’ wunst one time he creep In Pa’s big chair, he did, one ni… An’ squint an’ shut his eyes bofe…
A goddess, with a siren’s grace,— A sun-haired girl on a craggy plac… Above a bay where fish-boats lay Drifting about like birds of prey. Wrought was she of a painter’s dre…
John McKeen, in his rusty dress, His loosened collar, and swarthy t… His face unshaven, and none the le… His hearty laugh and his wholesome… And the wealth of a workman’s vote…
I would not trace the hackneyed ph… Of shallow words and empty praise, And prate of 'peace’ till one migh… My foolish pen was drunk with ink. Nor will I here the wish express
The Hired Man’s supper, which he… In near reach of the wood-box, the… And one leaf of the kitchen-table,… Somewhat belated, and in lifted pa… His dextrous knife was balancing a…
Alone they walked—their fingers kn… And swaying listlessly as might a… Wherein Dan Cupid dangled in the… Of some sun-flooded afternoon of… Within the clover-fields the tickl…
Awf’lest boy in this-here town Er anywheres is Elmer Brown! He’ll mock you—yes, an’ strangers,… An’ make a face an’ yell at you,— '_Here’s_ the way _you_ look!'
Just the airiest, fairiest slip of… With a Gainsborough hat, like a b… Tilted up at one side with the jau… And a knot of red roses sown in un… Where the shadows are lost in her…
Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the stri… In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and dr…
Hi and whoop-hooray, boys! Sing a song of cheer! Here’s a holiday, boys, Lasting half a year! Round the world, and half is
O I will walk with you, my lad, w… You’ll have me, too, the side o’ y… No care for where the road you tak… It can but be a joyful ja’nt whils… The road you take’s the path o’ lo…
Las’ July—an’, I persume 'Bout as hot As the ole Gran’-Jury room Where they sot!— Fight 'twixt Mike an’ Dock McGri…
Uncle Sidney, when he wuz here, Maked me a squirtgun out o’ some Elder-bushes ‘at growed out near Where wuz the brickyard—’way out c… To where the toll-gate come!
I hold your trembling hand to-nigh… I may not know what wealth of blis… My heart is such a curious design Of trust and jealousy! Your eyes… So must I think they jewel some r…