#AmericanWriters
‘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,
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…
‘For myself alone, I would not be Ambitious in my wish; but, for you… I would be trebled twenty times my… A thousand times more fair, Ten thousand times more rich.’
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…
‘Beds to the front of them, Beds to the right of them, Beds to the left of them, Nobody blundered. Beamed at by hungry souls,
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…
‘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,
Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew… Bring me here, with elfin speed,
Oh! a bare, brown rock Stood up in the sea, The waves at its feet Dancing merrily. A little bubble
A little kingdom I possess where thoughts and feelings dwell, And very hard I find the task of governing it well; For passion tempts and troubles me…
‘Hello! hello! Come down below,— It’s lovely and cool Out here in the pool; On a lily-pad float
‘Dear Grif, Here is a whiff Of beautiful spring flowers; The big red rose Is for your nose,
‘Y’ are the maiden posies, And so graced, To be placed Fore damask roses. Yet, though thus respected,