#AmericanWriters
HOME agin, an’ home to stay — Yes, it’s nice to be away. Plenty things to do an’ see, But the old place seems to me Jest about the proper thing.
AN old man planted and dug and te… Toiling in joy from dew to dew; The sun was kind, and the rain bef… Fine grew his orchard and fair to… Then he said: ‘I will quiet my th…
O Mother Race! to thee I bring This pledge of faith unwavering, This tribute to thy glory. I know the pangs which thou didst… When Slavery crushed thee with it…
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
Ah, Douglass, we have fall’n on e… Such days as thou, not even thou d… When thee, the eyes of that harsh… Saw, salient, at the cross of devi… And all the country heard thee wit…
In the forenoon’s restful quiet, When the boys are off at school, When the window lights are shaded And the chimney—corner cool, Then the old man seeks his armchai…
AS a quiet little seedling Lay within its darksome bed, To itself it fell a—talking, And this is what it said: 'I am not so very robust,
In a small and lonely cabin out of… Sat an old man, bent and feeble, d… And beside him on the table, batte… Lay a banjo, droning forth this re… 'Night is closing in upon us, frie…
We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs, In dis howlin’ wildaness, Fu’ to speak some words of comfo’t To each othah in distress. An’ we chooses fu’ ouah subjic’
Say a mass for my soul’s repose, m… Say a mass for my soul’s repose,… Lovingly lived we, the sons of one… Mine was the sin, but I pray you… Dark were her eyes as the sloe and…
THE sand—man he’s a jolly old fel… His face is kind and his voice is… But he makes your eyelids as heavy… And then you got to go off to bed; I don’t think I like the sand—man…
‘Twixt a smile and a tear, ’Twixt a song and a sigh, 'Twixt the day and the dark, When the night draweth nigh. Ah, sunshine may fade
Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust, What of his loving, what of his lu… What of his passion, what of his p… What of his poverty, what of his p… Earth, the great mother, has calle…
I’S feelin’ kin’ o’ lonesome in m… An’ my min’s done los’ de minutes… W’ile it teks me back a—flyin’ to… Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin… Oh, de ol’ plantation’s callin’ to…
THE lake’s dark breast Is all unrest, It heaves with a sob and a sigh. Like a tremulous bird, From its slumber stirred,