#AmericanWriters
Come when the nights are bright wi… Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay—field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray…
I GREW a rose within a garden fa… And, tending it with more than lov… I thought how, with the glory of i… I should the darkness of my life i… And, watching, ever smiled to see…
Wintah, summah, snow er shine, Hit’s all de same to me, Ef only I kin call you mine, An’ keep you by my knee. Ha’dship, frolic, grief er caih,
Temples he built and palaces of ai… And, with the artist’s parent—prid… His fancy saw his vague ideals gro… Into creations marvellously fair; He set his foot upon Fame’s nethe…
Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy An’ de rain is mighty thick; Keep a song up on de way. An’ de waters is a rumblin’ On de boulders in de crick,
Heart of my heart, the day is chil… The mist hangs low o’er the wooded… The soft white mist and the heavy… The sun and the face of heaven shr… The birds are thick in the drippin…
FOLKS ain’t got no right to cens… Him dat giv’ de squir’ls de bushta… Him dat built de gread big mountai… Him dat made de streets an’ drivew… We is all constructed diff’ent, d’…
THE BLACK TROOPS IN CUBA Round the wide earth, from the red… Blown with the breath of the far—s… Goes the word. Bravely you spoke through the batt…
When August days are hot an’ dry, When burning copper is the sky, I ‘d rather fish than feast or fly In airy realms serene and high. I ’d take a suit not made for look…
AN old worn harp that had been pl… Till all its strings were loose an… Joy, Hate and Fear, each one essa… To play. But each in turn had fou… No sweet responsiveness of sound
WHY fades a dream? An iridescent ray Flecked in between the tryst Of night and day. Why fades a dream? —
They please me not—these solemn so… That hint of sermons covered up. 'T is true the world should heed i… But in a poem let me sup, Not simples brewed to cure or ease
Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,… My being is attuned to thee. Thou settest all my words a—wing, And meltest me to melody. Thou art my life, by thee I live,
WHAT’S the use o’ folks a—frowni… When the way’s a little rough? Frowns lay out the road fur smilin… You’ll be wrinkled soon enough. What’s the use?
Love hath the wings of the butterf… Oh, clasp him but gently, Pausing and dipping and fluttering… Inconsequently. Stir not his poise with the breath…