#AmericanWriters
‘How did you rest, last night?’— I’ve heard my gran’pap say Them words a thousand times—that’s… Jes them words thataway! As punctchul-like as morning dast
I bear dis cross dis many a mile. O de cross-bearin’ chile— De cross-bearin’ chile! I bear dis cross 'long many a road Wha’ de pink ain’t bloom’ an’ de g…
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…
The summer winds is sniffin’ round… locus’ trees; And the clover in the pastur is a… And they been a-swiggin’ honey, ab… sly,
Just to be good— This is enough—enough! O we who find sin’s billows wild a… Do we not feel how more than any g… Would be the blameless life we led…
Time is so long when a man is dead… Some one sews; and the room is mad… Very clean; and the light is shed Soft through the window-shade. Yesterday I thought: ‘I know
Lay away the story,— Though the theme is sweet, There’s a lack of something yet, Leaves it incomplete:— There’s a nameless yearning—
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…
It was just a very Merry fairy dream!— All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam; Crickets in the clover
The world is turned ag’in’ me, And people says, 'They guess That nothin’ else is in me But pure maliciousness!' I git the blame for doin’
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…
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
While skies glint bright with blue… Through clouds that race o’er fiel… And leaves go dancing left and rig… And orchard apples tumble down; While school-girls sweet, in lane…
Noon-time and June-time, down aro… Have to furse with ‘Lizey Ann—but… Drives me off the place, and says… Land o’ gracious! time’ll come I’… Little Dave, a-choppin’ wood, nev…
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