#AmericanWriters
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
Reach your hand to me, my friend, With its heartiest caress— Sometime there will come an end To its present faithfulness— Sometime I may ask in vain
They rode right out of the morning… A glimmering, glittering cavalcade Of knights and ladies and every on… In princely sheen arrayed; And the king of them all, O he ro…
Who would be A merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid’s knee,
In youth he wrought, with eyes abl… Lorn-faced and long of hair— In youth—in youth he painted her A sister of the air— Could clasp her not, but felt the…
Season of snows, and season of flo… Seasons of loss and gain!— Since grief and joy must alike be… Why do we still complain? Ever our failing, from sun to sun,
Such a dear little street it is, n… From the noise of the city and hea… In cool shady coverts of whisperin… With their leaves lifted up to sha… Which in all its wide wanderings n…
A languid atmosphere, a lazy breez… With labored respiration, moves th… From distant reaches, till the gol… Break in crisp whispers at my feet… My book, neglected of an idle mind…
He called her in from me and shut… And she so loved the sunshine and… She loved them even better yet tha… That ne’er knew dearth of them—my… Nature had nursed me in her lap in…
When little Dickie Swope’s a man, He’s go’ to be a Sailor; An’ little Hamey Tincher, he’s A-go’ to be a Tailor: Bud Mitchell, he’s a-go’ to be
Our Land—our Home—the common home… Of soil-born children and adopted… The stately daughters and the stal… Of Industry—: All greeting and go… O home to proudly live for, and if…
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…
Go, Winter! Go thy ways! We want… The twitter of the bluebird and th… Leaves ever greener growing, and t… Of Summer’s sun—not thine.— Thy sun, which mocks our need of w…
Blossoms crimson, white, or blue, Purple, pink, and every hue, From sunny skies, to tintings drow… In dusky drops of dew, I praise you all, wherever found,
Ah, friend of mine, how goes it, Since you’ve taken you a mate?— Your smile, though, plainly shows… Is a very happy state! Dan Cupid’s necromancy!