#AmericanWriters
I HELD my heart so far from harm… I let it wander far and free In mead and mart, without alarm, Assured it must come back to me. And all went well till on a day,
NOT o’er thy dust let there be sp… The gush of maudlin sentiment; Such drift as that is not for thee… Whose life and deeds and songs agr… Sublime in their simplicity.
The mist has left the greening pla… The dew—drops shine like fairy rai… The coquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees,
'SUNSHINE on de medders, Greenness on de way; Dat’s de blessed reason I sing all de day.' Look hyeah! Whut you axin’?
Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy An’ de rain is mighty thick; Keep a song up on de way. An’ de waters is a rumblin’ On de boulders in de crick,
MY heart to thy heart, My hand to thine; My lips to thy lips, Kisses are wine Brewed for the lover in sunshine a…
THE change has come, and Helen s… Not sleeps; but wakes to greater d… Of wisdom, glory, truth, and light… Than ever blessed her seeking sigh… In this low, long, lethargic night…
Wen de snow 's a—fallin’ An’ de win’ is col’. Mammy 'mence a—callin’, Den she 'mence to scol’, 'Lucius Lishy Brackett,
Oh, wind of the spring—time, oh, f… When blossoms and bird—song are ri… Oh, joy for the season, and joy fo… That gave me the roses of life, of… That gave me the roses of life.
She gave a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. I love her, she knows, And my action confessed it. She gave me a rose,
SEEN you down at chu’ch las’ nig… Nevah min’, Miss Lucy. What I mean? oh, dat 's all right… Nevah min’, Miss Lucy. You was sma’t ez sma’t could be,
SWING yo’ lady roun’ an’ roun’, Do de bes’ you know; Mek yo’ bow an’ p’omenade Up an’ down de flo’; Mek dat banjo hump huhse’f,
In a small and lonely cabin out of… Sat an old man, bent and feeble, d… And beside him on the table, batte… Lay a banjo, droning forth this re… 'Night is closing in upon us, frie…
In the tents of Akbar Are dole and grief to—day, For the flower of all the Indies Has gone the silent way. In the tents of Akbar
I don’t believe in 'ristercrats An’ never did, you see; The plain ol’ homelike sorter folk… Is good enough fur me. O’ course, I don’t desire a man