#AmericanWriters
De times is mighty stirrin’ ‘mong… Dey ’sputin’ an’ dey argyin’ an’ f… An’ all dis monst’ous trouble dat… Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was… She was de preachah’s favoured, an…
OH, I am hurt to death, my Love; The shafts of Fate have pierced m… And I am sick and weary of The endless pain and smart. My soul is weary of the strife,
WHO dat knockin’ at de do’? Why, Ike Johnson, —yes, fu’ sho! Come in, Ike. I’s mighty glad You come down. I t’ought you’s mad
ON ITS NEW SLAVERY Heart of the Southland, heed me p… Who bearest, unashamed, upon my br… The long kiss of the loving tropic… And yet, whose veins with thy red…
Come to the pane, draw the curtain… There she is passing, the girl of… See where she walks like a queen i… Weather—defying, calm, placid and… Tripping along with impetuous grac…
In the silence of my heart, I will spend an hour with thee, When my love shall rend apart All the veil of mystery: All that dim and misty veil
Kiss me, Miami, thou most constan… I love thee more for that thou cha… When Winter comes with frigid bla… Or when the blithesome Spring is… And Summer’s here with sunshine h…
THOU art the soul of a summer’s… Thou art the breath of the rose. But the summer is fled And the rose is dead Where are they gone, who knows, wh…
AFTER READING ‘LEAD,… Lead gently, Lord, and slow, For oh, my steps are weak, And ever as I go, Some soothing sentence speak;
If thro’ the sea of night which here summons me, I could swim out beyond the farthest star, Break every barrier of circumstanc…
Oh to have you in May, To talk with you under the trees, Dreaming throughout the day, Drinking the wine—like breeze, Oh it were sweet to think
When Phyllis sighs and from her e… The light dies out; my soul replie… With misery of deep—drawn breath, E’en as it were at war with death. When Phyllis smiles, her glance b…
THEN He loved her, and through many yea… Had paid his fair devoted court, Until she wearied, and with sneers Turned all his ardent love to spor…
I 's boun’ to see my gal to—night— Oh, lone de way, my dearie! De moon ain’t out, de stars ain’t… Oh, lone de way, my dearie! Dis hoss o’ mine is pow’ful slow,
By rugged ways and thro’ the night We struggle blindly toward the lig… And groping, stumbling, ever pray For sight of long delaying day. The cruel thorns beside the road