#AmericanWriters
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
There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I kno… And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago;
I’ve ben thinkin’ back, of late, S’prisin’!—And I’m here to state I’m suspicious it’s a sign Of _age_, maybe, or decline Of my faculties,—and yit
The frightened herds of clouds acr… Trample the sunshine down, and cha… Into the dusky forest-lands of gra… And sombre twilight. Far and fain… The wild goose trails his harrow,…
Another hero of those youthful yea… Returns, as Noey Bixler’s name ap… And Noey—if in any special way— Was notably good-natured.—Work or… He entered into with selfsame deli…
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…
I so loved once, when Death came… Away my face, And all my sweetheart’s tresses sh… To make my hiding-place. The dread shade passed me thus unh…
The smiling face of a happy boy With its enchanted key Is now unlocking in memory My store of heartiest joy. And my lost life again to-day,
The dawn of the day was dreary, And the lowering clouds o’erhead Wept in a silent sorrow Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; And a wind came out of the eastwar…
W’y, one time wuz a little-weenty… An’ she wuz named Red Riding Hoo… Her _Ma_ she maked a little red c… 'At turnt up over her head—An’ it… Ist one piece o’ red cardinal ‘at…
I caught, for a second, across the… Just for a second, and barely that… A face, pox-pitted and evil-browed… Hid in the shade of a slouch-rim’d… With small gray eyes, of a look as…
Heigh-ho! Babyhood! Tell me where… Let’s toddle home again, for we ha… Take this eager hand of mine and l… Back to the Lotus lands of the fa… Turn back the leaves of life; don’…
There was a curious quiet for a sp… Directly following: and in the fac… Of one rapt listener pulsed the fl… Of the heat-lightning that pent pa… Long ere the crash of speech.—He…
Our three cats is Maltese cats, An’ they’s two that’s white,— An’ bofe of 'em’s _deef_—an’ that’… 'Cause their _eyes_ ain’t right.— Uncle say that _Huxley_ say
The pipes of Pan! Not idler now a… Than when their cunning fashioner… The pith of music from them: Yet… And me their notes are blown in ma… Lost in our murmurings for that ol…