#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Would that the winds might only bl… As they blew in the golden long ag… Laden with odors of Orient isles Where ever and ever the sunshine s… And the bright sands blend with th…
‘Now who shall say he loves me not… He wooed her first in an atmospher… Of tender and low-breathed sighs; But the pang of her laugh went cut… To the soul of the enterprise;
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheez… Lives 'way up in the leaves o’ tre… An’ wunst I slipped up-stairs to… In Aunty’s room, while she 'uz aw… An’ I clumbed up in her cushion-c…
When frost’s all on our winder, an… All out-o’-doors, our 'Old-Kriss’… A-drivin’ round, ist purt’-nigh fr… With his old white mustache froze… But when it’s summer an’ all warm…
New Castle, July 4, 1878 or a hundred years the pulse of ti… Has throbbed for Liberty; For a hundred years the grand old… Columbia has been free;
She will not smile; She will not stir; I marvel while I look on her. The lips are chilly
SONG [W.S.] With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho… O the shepherd lad He is ne’er so glad
The rain! the rain! the rain! It gushed from the skies and strea… Like awful tears; and the sick man… How pitiful it seemed! And he turned his face away,
Who would be A merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid’s knee,
1 O the Raggedy Man! He work… 2 An’ he’s the goodest man eve… 3 He comes to our house every… 4 An’ waters the horses, an’ f… 5 An’ he opens the shed—an’ we…
Back from a two-years’ sentence! And though it had been ten, You think, I were scarred no deep… In the eyes of my fellow-men. ‘My fellow-men—?’ Sounds like a s…
Gracie wuz allus a _careless_ tot; But Gracie dearly loved her doll, An’ played wiv it on the winder-si… 'Way up-stairs, when she ought to… An’ her muvver _telled_ her so an’…
Thousands of thousands of hushed y… Out on the edge of Chaos, all alo… I stood on peaks of vapor, high up… Above a sea that knew nor ebb nor… Nor any motion won of winds that b…
A monument for the Soldiers! And what will ye build it of? Can ye build it of marble, or bras… Outlasting the Soldiers’ love? Can ye glorify it with legends
I find an old deserted nest, Half-hidden in the underbrush: A withered leaf, in phantom jest, Has nestled in it like a thrush With weary, palpitating breast.