#Americans
Little Miss Brag has much to say To the rich little lady from over… And the rich little lady puts out… As she looks at her own white, dai… And wishes that she could wear a g…
On afternoons, when baby boy has h… And sits, like any monarch on his… In some such wise my handkerchief… And cautiously and quietly I move… Then, with a cry, I suddenly expo…
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…
Why do you shun me, Chloe, like t… That, fearful of the breezes and t… Has sought her timorous mother sin… And on the pathless mountain tops… Her trembling heart a thousand fea…
The Greeks had genius,—'t was a g… The Muse vouchsafed in glorious m… The boon of Fame they made their… And prized above all worldly treas… But _we_,—how do we train _our_ yo…
The mill goes toiling slowly aroun… With steady and solemn creak, And my little one hears in the kin… The voice of the old mill speak. While round and round those big wh…
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,
Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Sou… The evening shades are falling,— Hush thee, my dear, dost thou not… The voice of the Master calling? Deep lies the snow upon the earth,
Away down East where I was reared… There used to live a pretty girl w… And though it’s many years since l… And though I feel I’m sadly worn… Still, oftentimes, I think about…
Young Lochinvar came in from the… With fringe on his trousers and fu… The width of his hat-brim could no… His No. brogans were chuck full of feet,
When I remark her golden hair Swoon on her glorious shoulders, I marvel not that sight so rare Doth ravish all beholders; For summon hence all pretty girls
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one nigh… Sailed off in a wooden shoe,— Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do…
The wind comes whispering to me of… Of redwing blackbirds chattering b… It brings me soothing fancies of t… And I hear the thrush’s evening s… So I fall to thinking tenderly of…
TO MISS GRACE KING Down in the old French quarter, Just out of Rampart street, I wend my way At close of day
When the world is fast asleep, Along the midnight skies— As though it were a wandering clou… The ghostly dream-ship flies. An angel stands at the dream-ship’…