#AmericanWriters
The orchard lands of Long Ago! O drowsy winds, awake, and blow The snowy blossoms back to me, And all the buds that used to be! Blow back along the grassy ways
They called him Mr. What’s-his-na… From where he was, or why he came, Or when, or what he found to do, Nobody in the city knew. He lived, it seemed, shut up alone
_Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt… Thou shalt not wash the dishes, no… But sit on a cushion and sew a fin… And feast upon strawberries, sugar… Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt t…
Say farewell, and let me go; Shatter every vow! All the future can bestow Will be welcome now! And if this fair hand I touch
Sence I tuk holt o’ Gibbses’ Chu… And be’n a-handlin’ the concern, I’ve travelled round the grand old… Of Indiany, lots, o’ late—! I’ve canvassed Crawferdsville and…
In words like weeds, I’ll wrap me… Like coarsest clothes against the… But that large grief which these e… Is given in outline and no more. —TENNYSON.
Sometimes I keep From going to sleep, To hear the katydids ‘cheep-cheep!… And think they say Their prayers that way;
They’s nothin’ in the name to stri… A feller more’n common like! 'Taint liable to git no praise Ner nothin’ like it nowadays; An’ yit that name o’ her’n is jest
Sometimes I think 'at Parents doe… Things ist about as bad as _us_— Wite 'fore our vurry eyes, at that… Fer one time Pa he scold’ my Ma 'Cause he can’t find his hat;
Dawn, noon and dewfall! Bluebird… Up and at it airly, and the orchar… Peekin’ from the winder, half-awak… I could go to sleep agin as well a… II.
So lone I stood, the very trees s… In conference with themselves.—In… Seemed everything;—the summer sple… The sight,—magnificence! A babe’s life might not lighter fa…
Has she forgotten? On this very M… We were to meet here, with the bir… As on that Sabbath, underneath th… We strayed among the tombs, and st… The vines from these old granites,…
Such was the Child-World of the l… The little world these children us… Johnty, the oldest, and the best,… Of the five happy little Hoosier… Inhabiting this wee world all thei…
When we hear Uncle Sidney tell About the long-ago An’ old, old friends he loved so w… When _he_ was young—My-oh!— Us childern all wish _we’d 'a’_ bi…
The afternoon of summer folds Its warm arms round the marigolds, And with its gleaming fingers, pet… The watered pinks and violets That from the casement vases spill…
