#AmericanWriters
O Norah, lay your basket down, And rest your weary hand, And come and hear me sing a song Of our old Ireland. There was a lord of Galaway,
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE’S… THE tall, sallow guardsmen their… Flaming out in their violet, yello… And behind go the lackeys in crims… And the chamberlains gorgeous in v…
Hands off! thou tithe-fat plundere… No trick of priestcraft here! Back, puny lordling! darest thou l… A hand on Elliott’s bier? Alive, your rank and pomp, as dust…
They hear Thee not, O God! nor s… Beneath Thy rod they mock at Thee… The princes of our ancient line Lie drunken with Assyrian wine; The priests around Thy altar spea…
Out from Jerusalem The king rode with his great War chiefs and lords of state, And Sheba’s queen with them; Comely, but black withal,
Andrew Rykman’s dead and gone; You can see his leaning slate In the graveyard, and thereon Read his name and date. Trust is truer than our fears
When first I saw our banner wave Above the nation’s council-hall, I heard beneath its marble wall The clanking fetters of the slave! In the foul market-place I stood,
Poor and inadequate the shadow-pla… Of gain and loss, of waking and of… Against life’s solemn background n… At this late hour. Yet, not untha… I call to mind the fountains by th…
The clouds, which rise with thunde… Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to bre… From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make
Who gives and hides the giving han… Nor counts on favor, fame, or prai… Shall find his smallest gift outwe… The burden of the sea and land. Who gives to whom hath naught been…
FROM these wild rocks I look to-… O’er leagues of dancing waves, and… The far, low coast-line stretch aw… To where our river meets the sea. The light wind blowing off the lan…
A NOTELESS stream, the Birchb… Beneath its leaning trees; That low, soft ripple is its own, That dull roar is the sea’s. Of human signs it sees alone
Oh, praise an’ tanks! De Lord he… To set de people free; An’ massa tink it day ob doom, An’ we ob jubilee. De Lord dat heap de Red Sea wave…
WILDLY round our woodland quart… Sad-voiced Autumn grieves; Thickly down these swelling waters Float his fallen leaves. Through the tall and naked timber,
One Sabbath day my friend and I After the meeting, quietly Passed from the crowded village la… White with dry dust for lack of ra… And climbed the neighboring slope,…