#AmericanWriters
WHAT’S the use o’ folks a—frowni… When the way’s a little rough? Frowns lay out the road fur smilin… You’ll be wrinkled soon enough. What’s the use?
The smell of the sea in my nostril… The sound of the sea in mine ears; The touch of the spray on my burni… Like the mist of reluctant tears. The blue of the sky above me,
‘GOOD-BYE,’ I said to my consc… ‘Good-bye for aye and aye,’ And I put her hands off harshly, And turned my face away; And conscience smitten sorely
Caught Susanner whistlin’; well, It’s most nigh too good to tell. ‘Twould ’a’ b’en too good to see Ef it had n’t b’en fur me, Comin’ up so soft an’ sly
I’VE always been a faithful man An’ tried to live for duty, But the stringent mode of life Has somewhat lost its beauty. The story of the generous bread
PLACE this bunch of mignonette In her cold, dead hand; When the golden sun is set, Where the poplars stand, Bury her from sun and day,
THERE are no beaten paths to Gl… There are no rules to compass grea… Each for himself must cleave a pat… And press his own way forward in t… Smooth is the way to ease and calm…
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…
STEP me now a bridal measure, Work give way to love and leisure, Hearts be free and hearts be gay — Doctor Dan doth wed to—day. Diagnosis, cease your squalling —
THE lake’s dark breast Is all unrest, It heaves with a sob and a sigh. Like a tremulous bird, From its slumber stirred,
AH, Nora, my Nora, the light fad… While Night like a spirit steals… The thrash from his tree where he… No longer his music in ecstasy tri… Then, Nora, be near me; thy prese…
WHEN you and I were young, the d… Were filled with scent of pink and… And full of joy from dawn till clo… From morning’s mist till evening’s… And when the robin sung his song
DE win’ is blowin’ wahmah, An hit’s blowin’ f’om de bay; Dey’s a so’t o’ mist a—risin’ All erlong de meddah way; Dey ain’t a hint o’ frostin’
The sun hath shed its kindly light… Our harvesting is gladly o’er Our fields have felt no killing bl… Our bins are filled with goodly st… From pestilence, fire, flood, and…
Long since, in sore distress, I h… ‘Lord, who prevailest with resistl… Ever from war and strife keep me a… My battles fight!’ I know not if I play the Pharisee…