#AmericanWriters
‘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;
First she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus’ like we did When Mother died,—and we all said
O The Little Lady’s dainty As the picture in a book, And her hands are creamy-whiter Than the water-lilies look; Her laugh’s the undrown’d music
I grow so weary, someway, of all t… That love and loving have vouchsaf… Since now all dreamed-of sweets of… Am I possessed of: The caress tha… The lips that mix with mine with m…
The greeting of the company throug… Was like a jubilee,—the children’s… And fusillading hand-claps, with g… And detonations of the older ones, Raged to such tumult of tempestuou…
DIED—Early morning of September… in the gleaming dawn of ‘name and… Hamilton J. Dunbar. Dead! Dead! Dead! We thought him ours alone;
Leedle Dutch baby haff come ter t… Jabber und jump till der day gone… Jabber und sphlutter und sphlit he… Vot a Dutch baby dees Londsmon va… I dink dose mout’ vas leedle too v…
Far in the night, and yet no rest… The wife’s sweet face in slumber p… alone! In vain he courted sleep;—one thou… arise,—
The touches of her hands are like… Of velvet snowflakes; like the tou… The peach just brushes 'gainst the… The flossy fondlings of the thistl… Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of…
What delightful hosts are they— Life and Love! Lingeringly I turn away, This late hour, yet glad enough They have not withheld from me
I dreamed I was a spider; A big, fat, hungry spider; A lusty, rusty spider With a dozen palsied limbs; With a dozen limbs that dangled
O in the depths of midnight What fancies haunt the brain! When even the sigh of the sleeper Sounds like a sob of pain. A sense of awe and of wonder
Ho! I’m going back to where We were youngsters.—Meet me there… Dear old barefoot chum, and we Will be as we used to be,— Lawless rangers up and down
I put by the half-written poem, While the pen, idly trailed in my… Writes on—, 'Had I words to compl… Who’d read it, or who’d understand… But the little bare feet on the st…
In some strange place Of long-lost lands he finds her wa… Comes marveling upon it, unaware, Set moonwise in the midnight of he…