#AmericanWriters
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing, While the white foam raises high, And sturdily wash, and rinse, and… And fasten the clothes to dry; Then out in the free fresh air the…
Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago… By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side…
‘In China there lived a little ma… His name was Chingery Wangery Ch… ‘His legs were short, his feet wer… And this little man could not walk… ‘Chingery changery ri co day,
O lesson well and wisely taught Stay with me to the last, That all my life may better be For the trial that is past. O vanity, mislead no more!
Oft, in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high, When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl’s shrill cry, In the quiet, dusky chamber,
Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew… Bring me here, with elfin speed,
‘Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are blooming fair. ’But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride. He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. I am content with what I have,
THE moon upon the wide sea Placidly looks down, Smiling with her mild face, Though the ocean frown. Clouds may dim her brightness,
‘Gingerbread, Go to the head. Your task is done; A soul is won. Take it and go
We are sending you, dear flowers Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not… O’er the cold graves where you lie… But you go to bring them fadeless…
A little kingdom I possess where thoughts and feelings dwell, And very hard I find the task of governing it well; For passion tempts and troubles me…
We mourn the loss of our little pe… And sigh o’er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she’ll… Nor play by the old green gate. The little grave where her infant…
The moonlight fades from flower an… And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung… And the Fairy feast is done. The night-wind rocks the sleeping…
I am the monarch of the Sea, The ruler of the Queen’s Navee,— When at anchor here I ride, My bosom swells with pride, And I snap my fingers at a foeman…