#AmericanWriters
He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride. He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. I am content with what I have,
Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow… Starting on your autumn flight, Pause a moment at my window, Twitter softly your good-night; For the summer days are over,
Brighter shone the golden shadows; On the cool wind softly came The low, sweet tones of happy flow… Singing little Violet’s name. ‘Mong the green trees was it whisp…
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gl… Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that bright… Beneath the flowering vines. Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet…
‘I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing. ’First it is a little grub,
The moonlight fades from flower an… And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung… And the Fairy feast is done. The night-wind rocks the sleeping…
‘I wish I had a quiet tomb, Beside a little rill; Where birds, and bees, and butterf… Would sing upon the hill.’
Oft, in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high, When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl’s shrill cry, In the quiet, dusky chamber,
‘A little bird I am, Shut from the fields of air, And in my cage I sit and sing To Him who placed me there: Well pleased a prisoner to be,
WELCOME, welcome, little strang… Fear no harm, and fear no danger; We are glad to see you here, For you sing ‘Sweet Spring is nea… Now the white snow melts away;
‘Gingerbread, Go to the head. Your task is done; A soul is won. Take it and go
‘In China there lived a little ma… His name was Chingery Wangery Ch… ‘His legs were short, his feet wer… And this little man could not walk… ‘Chingery changery ri co day,
‘Chevalita, Pretty cretr, I do love her Like a brother; Just to ride
Little shadows, little shadows Dancing on the chamber wall, While I sit beside the hearthston… Where the red flames rise and fall… Caps and nightgowns, caps and nigh…
We mourn the loss of our little pe… And sigh o’er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she’ll… Nor play by the old green gate. The little grave where her infant…