#EnglishWriters
Bill Jones, who goes to school wi… Is the saddest boy I ever see. He’s just so 'fraid he runs away When all of us fellows want to pla… An’ says he dassent stay about
Last night I got to thinkin’ of t… When I still had on knee breeches… An’ my Sunday suit was velvet. Ma… But I know I didn’t like it—eithe… It was far too girlish for me, for…
BEIN’ uncle to the kids, Laughin’ lips an’ drowsy lids Grimy hands an’ tattered clothes, Cheeks as red as any rose; Willie Browns an’ Jimmy Whites,
Home was never home before, Till the baby came. Love no golden jewels wore, Till the baby came. There was joy, but now it seems
It ain’ the ringing of the bell which calls me back to skule once… it ain’t that i must lurn to spell that makes my hart so orful soar: it ain’t that fracktions i must lu…
Bit of a priest and a bit of sailo… Bit of a doctor and bit of a tailo… Bit of a lawyer, and bit of detect… Bit of a judge, for his work is co… Cheering the living and soothing t…
Old-fashioned flowers! I love the… The morning-glories on the wall, The pansies in their patch of shad… The violets, stolen from a glade, The bleeding hearts and columbine,
This I would like to be– braver a… Just a bit wiser because I am old… Just a bit kinder to those I may… Just a bit manlier taking defeat; This for the New Year my wish and…
“GIVE me the prettiest valentine You’ve got in the shop,' said he, ‘One with the tenderest sort o’ li… In type that her eyes can see. One that she won’t need her specs…
I am selfish in my wishin’ every s… I am selfish when I tell you that… Bending o’er you every minute, and… An’ as much of love an’ gladness a… Coz I know beyond all question th…
There may be finer pleasures than… And better ways to spend a day; th… There may be richer fellowship tha… But if there is, I know it not; i… Oh, some may choose to walk with k…
Old-fashioned letters! How good t… And nobody writes them now; Never at all comes in the scrawl On the written pages which told us… The news of town and the folks we…
HE WAS bo’n way down in Texas,… An’ a cloud’s so thin it’s easy to… An’ he grew among the quaint folk… In the mint an’ melon patches, an’… An’ he stored up all the sunshine…
Way out in the woods there are bro… By the light of a candle, in Gree… And in far away places are thousan… Who several languages speak. I have sat near a stove in a queer…
Comes in flying from the street; 'Where’s Mamma?’ Friend or stranger thus he’ll gree… 'Where’s Mamma?’ Doesn’t want to say hello,