#AmericanWriters
Ah me, it is cold and chill And the fire sobs low in the grate… While the wind rides by on the hil… And the logs crack sharp with hate… And she, she is cold and sad
Love me. I care not what the circ… To me may do. If, but in spite of time and tears… You prove but true. Love me—albeit grief shall dim min…
Summah 's nice, wif sun a—shinin’, Spring is good wif greens and gras… An’ dey 's some t’ings nice 'bout… Dough hit brings de freezin’ blas; But de time dat is de fines’,
DONE are the toils and the weari… Done is the summons of bugle and d… Softly and sweetly the sky overarc… Shelt’ring a land where Rebellion… Dark were the days of the country’…
COME away to dreamin’ town, Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou, Whaih de skies don’ nevah frown, Mandy Lou; Whaih de streets is paved with gol…
DE dog go howlin’ 'long de road, De night come shiverin’ down; My back is tiahed of its load, I cain’t be fu’ f’om town. No mattah ef de way is long,
YOU kin talk about yer anthems An’ yer arias an’ sich, An’ yer modern choir—singin’ That you think so awful rich; But you orter heerd us youngsters
The word is writ that he who runs… What is the passing breath of eart… But to snatch glory from the hands… That is to be, to live, to strive… A poor Virginia cabin gave the se…
De ol’ time’s gone, de new time’s… Wid all hits fuss an’ feddahs; I done fu’got de joy an’ cheah We knowed all kin’s o’ weddahs, I done fu’got each ol’—time hymn
The Oriole sings in the greening… As if he were half—way waiting, The rosebuds peep from their hoods… Timid, and hesitating. The rain comes down in a torrent s…
‘GOOD-BYE,’ I said to my consc… ‘Good-bye for aye and aye,’ And I put her hands off harshly, And turned my face away; And conscience smitten sorely
Lucy done gone back on me, Dat’s de way wif life. Evaht’ing was movin’ free, T’ought I had my wife. Den some dahky comes along,
OH, I am hurt to death, my Love; The shafts of Fate have pierced m… And I am sick and weary of The endless pain and smart. My soul is weary of the strife,
OH, the poets may sing of their L… And may rave in their rhymes about… But I throw my poetical wings to… And soar in a song to my Lady Lou… A sweet little maid, who is dearer…
Caught Susanner whistlin’; well, It’s most nigh too good to tell. ‘Twould ’a’ b’en too good to see Ef it had n’t b’en fur me, Comin’ up so soft an’ sly