#AmericanWriters
We must get home—for we have been… So long it seems forever and a day… And O so very homesick we have gr… The laughter of the world is like… In our tired hearing, and its song…
O love is like an untamed steed!— So hot of heart and wild of speed, And with fierce freedom so in love… The desert is not vast enough, With all its leagues of glimmering…
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,
I hail thee, Nessmuk, for the lof… Yet simple grace that marks thy po… True forester thou art, and still… Even in happier fields than thou h… Thus, in glad visions, glimpses am…
Ay, thou varlet! Laugh away! All the world’s a holiday! Laugh away, and roar and shout Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out… Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine…
O the old trundle-bed where I sle… What canopied king might not covet… The glory and peace of that slumbe… Like a long, gracious rest in the… The quaint, homely couch, hidden c…
Sweet little myth of the nursery s… Earliest love of mine infantile br… Be something tangible, bloom in th… Into existence, as thou art addres… Hasten! appear to me, guileless an…
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…
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’…
Ha! My dear! I’m back again— Vendor of Bohemia’s wares! Lordy! How it pants a man Climbing up those awful stairs! Well, I’ve made the dealer say
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…
In its color, shade and shine, ‘T was a summer warm as wine, With an effervescent flavoring of… And a fragrance and a taste Of ripe roses gone to waste,
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;
Maud Muller worked at making hay, And cleared her forty cents a day. Her clothes were coarse, but her h… And so she worked in the sweet sun… Singing as glad as a bird in May
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,