#AmericanWriters
It may be misery not to sing at al… And to go silent through the brimm… It may be misery never to be loved… But deeper griefs than these beset… To sing the perfect song,
Whut dat you whisperin’ keepin’ f’… Don’t shut me out ‘cause I ’s ol’… Somep’n’s gone wrong dat 's a—caus… Don’t be afeared to tell—Whut! ma… Somebody brung de news early to—da…
October is the treasurer of the ye… And all the months pay bounty to h… The fields and orchards still thei… And fill her brimming coffers more… But she, with youthful lavishness,
She sang, and I listened the whol… (It was sweet, so sweet, the singi… The stars were out and the moon it… From a wee soft glimmer way out in… To a bird thro’ the heavens wingin…
De trees is bendin’ in de sto’m, De rain done hid de mountain’s fo’… I ‘s ’lone an’ in distress. But listen, dah 's a voice I hyea… A—sayin’ to me, loud an’ cleah,
I DID not know that life could b… I did not know the hours could spe… Till I knew you, and life was swe… The days grew brief with love and… I was a slave a few short days ago…
O li’l’ lamb out in de col’, De Mastah call you to de fol’, O li’l’ lamb! He hyeah you bleatin’ on de hill; Come hyeah an’ keep yo’ mou’nin’ s…
The moon begins her stately ride Across the summer sky; The happy wavelets lash the shore,… The tide is rising high. Beneath some friendly blade of gra…
Shadder in de valley Sunlight on de hill, Sut’ny wish dat locus’ Knowed how to be still. Don’t de heat already
What dreams we have and how they f… Like rosy clouds across the sky; Of wealth, of fame, of sure succes… Of love that comes to cheer and bl… And how they wither, how they fade…
SHE wrapped her soul in a lace of… With a prime deceit to pin it; And I thought I was gaining a fea… So I staked my soul to win it. We wed and parted on her complaint…
G’way an’ quit dat noise, Miss Lu… Put dat music book away; What’s de use to keep on tryin’? Ef you practise twell you’re gray, You cain’t sta’t no notes a—flyin’
When first of wise old Johnson ta… My youthful mind its homage brough… And made the pond’rous crusty sage The object of a noble rage. Nor did I think (How dense we are…
A SONG is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing! In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars…
I KNOW my love is true, And oh the day is fair. The sky is dear and blue, The flowers are rich of hue, The air I breathe is rare,