#Americans #Blacks #XIXCentury
A lilt and a swing, And a ditty to sing, Or ever the night grow old; The wine is within, And I’m sure t’were a sin
De way t’ings come, hit seems to m… Is des’ one monst’ous mystery; De way hit seem to strike a man, Dey ain’t no sense, dey ain’t no p… Ef trouble sta’ts a pilin’ down,
You ask why I am sad to—day, I have no cares, no griefs, you sa… Ah, yes, 't is true, I have no gr… But—is there not the falling leaf? The bare tree there is mourning le…
Hurt was the nation with a mighty… And all her ways were filled with… Wailed loud the South with unremi… And wept the North that could not… Then madness joined its harshest t…
SOME folks t’inks hit’s right an… Soon ez bedtime come erroun’, Fu’ to scramble to de kiver, Lak dey’d hyeahed de trumpet soun’… But dese people day all misses
I like to hear of wealth and gold, And El Doradoes in their glory; I like for silks and satins bold To sweep and rustle through a stor… The nightingale is sweet of song;
Dream days of fond delight and hou… As rosy—hued as dawn, are mine. Love’s drowsy wine, Brewed from the heart of Passion… Flows softly o’er my lips
The November sun invites me, And although the chill wind smites… I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await; And with loud and joyful singing
OH, dere’s lots o’ keer an’ troub… In dis world to swaller down; An’ ol’ Sorrer’s purty lively In her way o’ gittin’ roun’. Yet dere’s times when I furgit 'e…
I’S a—gittin’ weary of de way dat… De folks dat’s got dey 'ligion in… Dey’s allus somep’n comin’ so de s… An’ hit tain’t no p’oposition fu’… Ef de sweet pertater fails us an’…
Dear Miss Lucy: I been t’inkin’… But dis writin’ 's mighty tejous,… But I 's got a little lesure, so… Fu’ to let you know my feelin’s si… I ‘s right well, I ’s glad to tel…
ON ITS NEW SLAVERY Heart of the Southland, heed me p… Who bearest, unashamed, upon my br… The long kiss of the loving tropic… And yet, whose veins with thy red…
In the tents of Akbar Are dole and grief to—day, For the flower of all the Indies Has gone the silent way. In the tents of Akbar
WHAT are the things that make li… A star gleam in the night. What hearts us for the coming fray… The dawn tints of the day. What helps to speed the weary mile…
Long had I grieved at what I deem… But now I am as grain within the… If so be thou must crush me for th… Grind on, O potent God, and do th…