#AmericanWriters
The hero of Affairs of love By far too numerous to be mentione… And scarred as I’m, It seemeth time
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When birds are on the wing, When bee and bud and babbling floo… Bespeak the birth of spring, Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
The day is done; and, lo! the shad… Melt 'neath Diana’s mellow grace. Hark, how those deep, designing ma… Feign terror in this sylvan place! Come, friends, it’s time that we s…
He placed a rose in my nut-brown h… A deep red rose with a fragrant he… And said: 'We’ll set this day apa… So sunny, so wondrous fair.' His face was full of a happy light…
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
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…
I once knew all the birds that cam… And nested in our orchard trees; For every flower I had a name— My friends were woodchucks, toads,… I knew where thrived in yonder gle…
See, what a wonderful garden is he… Planted and trimmed for my Little… Posies so gaudy and grass of such… Search ye the country and hunt ye… And never ye’ll meet with a garden…
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…
I thought myself indeed secure, So fast the door, so firm the lock… But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock. My heart were stone could it withs…
Down south there is a curio-shop Unknown to many men; Thereat do I intend to stop When I am south again; The narrow street through which to…
All day long they come and go— Pittypat and Tippytoe; Footprints up and down the hall, Playthings scattered on the floor, Finger-marks along the wall,
A bottle tree bloometh in Winkywa… Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship… That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babi… Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by…
There, there, poor dog, my faithfu… Pay you no heed unto my sorrow: But feast to-day while yet you may… Who knows but we shall starve to-m… “Give us a tune,” the foemen cried…
