#AmericanWriters
Belated wanderer of the ways of sp… Lost in the chill of grim Novembe… Would I could read the message th… And find in it the antidote for pa… Does some sad spirit out beyond th…
He sang of life, serenely sweet, With, now and then, a deeper note. From some high peak, nigh yet remo… He voiced the world’s absorbing be… He sang of love when earth was you…
Back to the breast of thy mother, Child of the earth! E’en her caress can not smother What thou hast done. Follow the trail of the westering…
GOD has his plans, and what if we With our sight be too blind to see Their full fruition; cannot he, Who made it, solve the mystery? One whom we loved has fall’n aslee…
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…
THE trees bend down along the str… Where anchored swings my tiny boat… The day is one to drowse and dream And list the thrush’s throttling n… When music from his bosom bleeds
I NEVER shall furgit that night… An’ all us youngsters clambered in… To school where we was kep’ at wor… But where that night a spellin’—be… 'Twas one o’ Heaven’s banner nigh…
See dis pictyah in my han’? Dat’s my gal; Ain’t she purty? goodness lan’! Huh name Sal. Dat’s de very way she be—
SILENTLY without my window, Tapping gently at the pane, Falls the rain. Through the trees sighs the breeze Like a soul in pain.
As in some dim baronial hall restr… A prisoner sits, engirt by secret… And waving tapestries that argue f… Strange passages into the outer ai… So in this dimmer room which we ca…
You 'll be wonderin’ whut ‘s de re… I ’s a grinnin’ all de time, An’ I guess you t’ink my sperits Mus’ be feelin’ mighty prime. Well, I 'fess up, I is tickled
Come, essay a sprightly measure, Tuned to some light song of pleasu… Maidens, let your brows be crowned As we foot this merry round. From the ground a voice is singing…
WHEN the corn’s all cut and the… Like the burnished spears of a fie… When the field—mice rich on the nu… And the frost comes white and the… Then it’s heigh—ho! fellows and hi…
The sun has slipped his tether And galloped down the west. (Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, lo… The little bird is sleeping In the softness of its nest.
‘GOOD-BYE,’ I said to my consc… ‘Good-bye for aye and aye,’ And I put her hands off harshly, And turned my face away; And conscience smitten sorely