#AmericanWriters
SWEETEST of the flowers a—bloo… In the fragrant vernal days Is the Lily of the Valley With its soft, retiring ways. Well, you chose this humble blosso…
OUTSIDE the rain upon the stree… The sky all grim of hue, Inside, the music—painful sweet, And yet I heard but you As is a thrilling violin,
W’EN de colo’ed ban’ comes ma’chi… Don’t you people stan’ daih starin… Ain’t dey playin’? Hip, hooray! Stir yo’ stumps an’ cleah de way, Fu’ de music dat dey mekin’ can’t…
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…
I’S a—gittin’ weary of de way dat… De folks dat’s got dey 'ligion in… Dey’s allus somep’n comin’ so de s… An’ hit tain’t no p’oposition fu’… Ef de sweet pertater fails us an’…
W’EN de clouds is hangin’ heavy i… An’ de win’s 's a—taihin’ moughty… I don’ go a—sighin’ all erlong de… I des’ wo’k a—waitin’ fu’ de close… Case I knows w’en evenin’ draps h…
Ther’ ain’t no use in all this str… An’ hurryin’, pell—mell, right thr… I don’t believe in goin’ too fast To see what kind o’ road you’ve pa… It ain’t no mortal kind o’ good,
I am the mother of sorrows, I am the ender of grief; I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late—falling leaf. I am thy priest and thy poet,
I AM no priest of crooks nor cree… For human wants and human needs Are more to me than prophets’ deed… And human tears and human cares Affect me more than human prayers.
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
I Found you and I lost you, All on a gleaming day. The day was filled with sunshine, And the land was full of May. A golden bird was singing
OH, who would be sad tho’ the sky… And meadow and woodlands are empty… For softly and merrily now there c… The little white birds thro’ the w… The squirrel’s enjoying the rest o…
‘In the fight at Brandywine, Blac… a scythe, sweeps his way through t… '_Myths and Legends of Our Own L… Gray are the pages of record, Dim are the volumes of eld;
Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey i… An’ de little branch’s watahs is a… De win’ goes roun’ de cabin lak a… An’ de chillen shakes an’ shivahs… Dey is hick’ry in de fiahplace, wh…
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.