#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
To the Elect of Love,—or side-by-… In raptest ecstasy, or sundered wi… By seas that bear no message to or… Between the loved and lost of long… So were I but a minstrel, deft
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…
All seemed delighted, though the e… Of course, than were the children.… Much interchange of mirthful compl… The story-teller said _his_ storie… (Like a bad candle) _best_ when th…
I’ b’en a-kindo musin’, as the fel… About o’ the conclusion that they… When you come to cipher on it, tha… When we swore our first 'dog-gone-… You git my idy, do you?—_Little_…
To hear her sing—to hear her sing— It is to hear the birds of Spring In dewy groves on blooming sprays Pour out their blithest roundelays… It is to hear the robin trill
First she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus’ like we did When Mother died,—and we all said
What intuition named thee?—Throug… Of the awed soul came the command… Into the mother-heart, foretelling… Should palpitate with his whose ra… Sing on while daisies bloom and la…
Of all the doctors I could cite y… Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes’ t… Count in the Bethel Neighberhood,… And Sifers’ standin’s jes’ as goo… There’s old Doc Wick, and Glenn,…
For you, I could forget the gay Delirium of merriment, And let my laughter die away In endless silence of content. I could forget, for your dear sake…
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…
Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the stri… In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and dr…
There’s a space for good to bloom… Every heart of man or woman,— And however wild or human, Or however brimmed with gall, Never heart may beat without it;
They all climbed up on a high boar… Nine little Goblins, with green-g… Nine little Goblins that had no s… And couldn’t tell coppers from col… And they all climbed up on the fen…
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…
Let us rest ourselves a bit! Worry?—wave your hand to it— Kiss your finger-tips and smile It farewell a little while. Weary of the weary way