#AmericanWriters
Let not our town be large, remembe… That little Athens was the Muses’… That Oxford rules the heart of Lo… That Florence gave the Renaissanc… Record it for the grandson of your…
True Love is founded in rocks of… In stones of Forbearance and mort… The workman lays wearily granite o… And bleeds for his castle, 'mid su… Love is not velvet, not all of it…
“The sun says his prayers,” said t… Or else he would wither and die. “The sun says his prayers,” said t… “For strength to climb up through… He leans on invisible angels,
Your pen needs but a ruffle To be Pavlova whirling. It surely is a scalawag A-scamping down the page. A pretty little May-wind
I. SPEAK NOW FOR PEACE<… Lady of Light, and our best woman… Stand now for peace, (though anger… Though naught but smoke and flame… Lady of Light, speak, though you…
Thou wilt not sentence to eternal… My soul that prays that it may sle… Like a white statue dropped into t… Covered with sand, covered with ch… And slave-bones, tossed from many…
Though better men may fear that tr… I meet you, lady, on the Judgment… With golden hope my spirit still a… Our God who made you all so fair… Is three times gentle, and before…
[What the Man of Faith said]… The dew, the rain and moonlight All prove our Father’s mind. The dew, the rain and moonlight Descend to bless mankind.
The moon’s an open furnace door Where all can see the blast, We shovel in our blackest griefs, Upon that grate are cast Our aching burdens, loves and fear…
[In memory of E. S. Frazee, R… Into the acres of the newborn stat… He poured his strength, and plowed… And, when the traders followed him… Towering above their furtive souls…
The moon’s a gong, hung in the wil… Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear it, chil… It takes a FAIRY ear. The full moon is a splendid gong
I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SI… (To be read in your own variety… Legree’s big house was white and g… His cotton-fields were the best to… He had strong horses and opulent c…
On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow When you left your father’s house With your cheeks aglow? Eyes so strained and eager
A Song in Chinese Tapestries<… “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chan… “San Francisco sleeps as the dead… Ended license, lust and play: Why do you iron the night away?
This doll upon the topmost bough, This playmate-gift, in Christmas… Was taken down and brought to me One sleety night most comfortless. Her hair was gold, her dolly-sash