#Americans
Forget? Ah, never! Your eyes, your voice, your lips. Those little ways of love, Half-childish yet all-wise
O why are there eyes like these, That sparkle and dapple and tease, So wide with the morning, so deep… Dancing and gleaming in passioned… O why are there eyes like these?
Blue eyes, gray eyes, All the eyes that be, Hold within their changing depths Wealth of charm to me. Dark-eyed maid, of moment’s fancy,
The slender moon in its silvery sh… The golden stars with the blue bet… Of a dreamy, summer sky; And still the night winds sigh. With the silvery moon to whisper t…
Old memories come trooping down The vistas of the years; In blue-girt robes of pleasure cla… Or garbed in tears. Down from the days when hope was y…
Day passeth day in sunshine or sha… Night unto night each cycle is tol… Sun, moon and stars in whirling an… All unto all the creation unfold. What of the strivings, what of the…
Why do men smile when I speak, And call my speech The whimperings of a babe That cries but knows not what it w… Is it because I am black?
As I lie in bed, Flat on my back; There passes across my ceiling An endless panaroma of things— Quick steps of gay-voiced children…
And Thou art One—One with th’ et… And with the flaming stars, and wi… Translucent, cold. The sentinel o… That clothes the sky in robes of l… The earth with warmth, the floweri…
I’m a-waiting and a-watching for t… For the sun that’s ever shining, f… For the light that casts no shadow… For the rose that’s ever blooming… I’m a-waiting and a watching for t…
Now with the dust that bore him he… Silent, into into earth’s silent m… Dimmed is his light, as with the s… He folds his steps unto the God w… When shall the weak stand and rejo…
Sunless days and starless nights Bearing fruits of wrack and pain, Purge my lips of lover’s vows, Bid me never hope again. Yet the longing of my soul,
The band of Gideon roam the sky, The howling wind is their war-cry, The thunder roll is their trump’s… And the lightning flash their veng… Each black cloud
Old November, sere and brown, Clothes the country, haunts the to… Sheds its cloak of withered leaves… Brings its sighing, soughing breez… Prophet of the dying year,
Brother, come! And let us go unto our God. And when we stand before Him I shall say— “Lord, I do not hate,
