#AmericanWriters
The little toy dog is covered with… But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red… And his musket molds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog w…
What conversazzhyonies wuz I real… For that, you must remember, wuz a… The camp wuz new ‘nd noisy, ’nd on… So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly… There hadn’t been no grand events…
Of mornings, bright and early, When the lark is on the wing And the robin in the maple Hops from her nest to sing, From yonder cheery chamber
O Lady Fortune! 't is to thee I… Dwelling at Antium, thou hast pow… The veriest clod with riches and r… And change a triumph to a funeral The tillers of the soil and they t…
Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shou… Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth… Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben… Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye… Ye whiles that when ye face of ear…
In an ocean, 'way out yonder, (As all sapient people know) Is the land of Wonder-Wander, Whither children love to go; It’s their playing, romping, swing…
The women-folk are like to books,— Most pleasing to the eye, Whereon if anybody looks He feels disposed to buy. I hear that many are for sale,—
Father calls me William, sister c… Mother calls me Willie, but the f… Mighty glad I ain’t a girl - ruth… Without them sashes, curls, an’ th… Love to chawnk green apples an’ go…
There once was a bird that lived u… And all he could whistle was “Fid… A very provoking, unmusical song For one to be whistling the summer… Yet always contented and busy was…
Suppose, my dear, that you were I And by your side your sweetheart s… Suppose you noticed by and by The distance 'twixt you were too g… Now tell me, dear, what would you…
I’m weary of this weather and I h… Which people read of in the psalms… The grassy fields, the leafy woods… And listen to the music of the bro… Or, by the pond out yonder, hear t…
It’s June ag’in, an’ in my soul I… That’s sure to come this time o’ y… For, every June, the Sunday-schoo… Where “fields beyont the swellin’… Where little girls are skeered to…
Speakin’ of dorgs, my bench-legged… Hed most o’ the virtues, an’ nary… Some folks called him Sooner, a n… From his predisposition to chronic… But, rouse his ambition, he couldn…
It’s when the birds go piping and… That, clamoring for his dinner, ou… Then it’s sleep no more for baby,… For, when he wants his dinner, why… And of that lacteal fluid he parta…
As beats the sun from mountain cre… With 'pretty, pretty’, Cometh the partridge from her nest… The flowers threw kisses sweet to… (For all the flowers that bloomed…