#AmericanWriters
THE lake’s dark breast Is all unrest, It heaves with a sob and a sigh. Like a tremulous bird, From its slumber stirred,
He had his dream, and all through… Worked up to it through toil and s… Afloat fore’er before his eyes, It colored for him all his skies: The storm—cloud dark
AIN’T it nice to have a mammy W’en you kin’ o’ tiahed out Wid a—playin’ in de meddah, An’ a—runnin’ roun’ about Till hit’s made you mighty hongry,
She gave a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. I love her, she knows, And my action confessed it. She gave me a rose,
IF the muse were mine to tempt it And my feeble voice were strong, If my tongue were trained to measu… I would sing a stirring song. I would sing a song heroic
Long years ago, within a distant c… Ere Love had touched me with his… I dreamed of one to make my life’s… The panting passion of a summer’s… And ever since, in almost sad susp…
Emblem of blasted hope and lost de… No finger ever traced thy yellow p… Save Time’s. Thou hast not wrough… The hearts thou wouldst have stirr… Save sad flames set to light a fun…
Oh, summer has clothed the earth In a cloak from the loom of the su… And a mantle, too, of the skies’ s… And a belt where the rivers run. And now for the kiss of the wind,
OUT in de night a sad bird moans, An’, oh, but hit’s moughty lonely; Times I kin sing, but mos’ I groa… Fu’ oh, but hit’s moughty lonely! Is you sleepin’ well dis evenin’,…
TUSKEGEE, ALA., APRIL 22,… Not to the midnight of the gloomy… Do we revert to—day; we look upon The golden present and the future… Whose vistas show us visions of th…
Summah 's nice, wif sun a—shinin’, Spring is good wif greens and gras… An’ dey 's some t’ings nice 'bout… Dough hit brings de freezin’ blas; But de time dat is de fines’,
Little Miss Margaret sits in a po… She and her Dolly have just falle… Dolly is gazing with sorest stare, Fitted dejectedly back in her chai… Angry at Margaret, tearful and gr…
A crust of bread and a corner to s… A minute to smile and an hour to w… A pint of joy to a peck of trouble… And never a laugh but the moans co… And that is life!
They please me not—these solemn so… That hint of sermons covered up. 'T is true the world should heed i… But in a poem let me sup, Not simples brewed to cure or ease
THESE are the days of elfs and f… Who says that with the dreams of m… These imps and elves disport thems… Ah no, along the paths of song Do all the tiny folk belong.