#AmericanWriters
'Tis fine to play In the fragrant hay, And romp on the golden load; To ride old Jack To the barn and back,
Wintah, summah, snow er shine, Hit’s all de same to me, Ef only I kin call you mine, An’ keep you by my knee. Ha’dship, frolic, grief er caih,
YOU kin talk about yer anthems An’ yer arias an’ sich, An’ yer modern choir—singin’ That you think so awful rich; But you orter heerd us youngsters
The word is writ that he who runs… What is the passing breath of eart… But to snatch glory from the hands… That is to be, to live, to strive… A poor Virginia cabin gave the se…
Temples he built and palaces of ai… And, with the artist’s parent—prid… His fancy saw his vague ideals gro… Into creations marvellously fair; He set his foot upon Fame’s nethe…
STEP me now a bridal measure, Work give way to love and leisure, Hearts be free and hearts be gay — Doctor Dan doth wed to—day. Diagnosis, cease your squalling —
If you could sit with me beside th… And whisper with me sweetest dream… I think I should not find the clo… And not so loud the waves complain… If you could sit with me upon the…
A BEE that was searching for swe… Through the gate of a rose garden… In the heart of a rose he hid away… And forgot in his bliss the light… As sipping his honey he buzzed in…
In the forenoon’s restful quiet, When the boys are off at school, When the window lights are shaded And the chimney—corner cool, Then the old man seeks his armchai…
BREEZES blowin’ middlin’ brisk, Snow-flakes thro’ the air a-whisk, Fallin’ kind o’ soft an’ light, Not enough to make things white, But jest sorter siftin’ down
HOME agin, an’ home to stay — Yes, it’s nice to be away. Plenty things to do an’ see, But the old place seems to me Jest about the proper thing.
UNDERNEATH the autumn sky, Haltingly, the lines go by. Ah, would steps were blithe and ga… As when first they marched away, Smile on lip and curl on brow,
BY the stream I dream in calm del… How the clouds like crowds of snow… And the water into ripples breaks… Like a host of armored knights wit… And I deem the stream an emblem f…
Summah night an’ sighin’ breeze, 'Long de lovah’s lane; Frien’ly, shadder—mekin’ trees, 'Long de lovah’s lane. White folks’ wo’k all done up gran…
I know a little country place Where still my heart doth linger, And o’er its fields is every grace Lined out by memory’s finger. Back from the lane where poplars g…