#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
It’s many’s the scenes which is de… As I think of my childhood so lon… The home of my birth, with it’s ol… And the bright morning-glories tha… The warped clab-board roof whare t…
I know all about the Sphinx— I know even what she thinks, Staring with her stony eyes Up forever at the skies. For last night I dreamed that she
Bound and bordered in leaf-green, Edged with trellised buds and flow… And glad Summer-gold, with clean White and purple morning-glories Such as suit the songs and stories
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…
'Best time to kill a hog’s when he… Mostly folks is law-abidin’ Down on Wriggle Crick—, Seein’ they’s no Squire residin’ In our bailywick;
Lying listless in the mosses Underneath a tree that tosses Flakes of sunshine, and embosses Its green shadow with the snow— Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber
Ot’s a leedle Gristmas story Dot I told der leedle folks— Und I vant you stop dot laughin’ Und grackin’ funny jokes!— So help me Peter-Moses!
O the days gone by! O the days go… The apples in the orchard, and the… The chirrup of the robin, and the… As he piped across the meadows swe… When the bloom was on the clover,…
The warm pulse of the nation has g… The muffled heart of Freedom, lik… Throbs solemnly for one whose eart… Wrought every mission well. Whose glowing reason towered above…
A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly—sing it low— Sing it softly—like the lisping of… When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled
Old friend of mine, whose chiming… Has been the burthen of a rhyme Within my heart since first I cam… To know thee in thy mellow prime; With warm emotions in my breast
You think it is a sorry thing That I am blind. Your pitying Is welcome to me; yet indeed, I think I have but little need Of it. Though you may marvel much
You kin boast about yer cities, an… And brag about yer County-seats,… And railroads, and factories, and… But the little Town o’ Tailholt i… You kin harp about yer churches, w…
I want to sing something—but this… I try and I try, but the rhymes a… As though they were damp, and the… Limp and unlovable. Words will not say what I yearn t…
Knightly Rider of the Knee Of Proud-prancing Unclery! Gaily mount, and wave the sign Of that mastery of thine. Pat thy steed and turn him free,