#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
De axes has been ringin’ in de woo… An’ de chips has been a—fallin’ fa… Dey has cut de bigges’ hick’ry dat… An’ dey’s laid hit down and soaked… Den dey tuk hit to de big house an…
(Lines on reading ‘Driftwood.’) Driftwood gathered here and there Along the beach of time; Now and then a chip of truth ‘Mid boards and boughs of rhyme;
A crust of bread and a corner to s… A minute to smile and an hour to w… A pint of joy to a peck of trouble… And never a laugh but the moans co… And that is life!
I has hyeahd o’ people dancin’ an’… An’ I ‘s been ’roun’ lots of otha… But of all de whistlin’ da’kies da… De whistlin’est I evah seed was o… In de kitchen er de stable, in de…
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,
It is as if a silver chord Were suddenly grown mute, And life’s song with its rhythm wa… Against a silver lute. It is as if a silence fell
A MAIDEN wept and, as a comfort… Came one who cried, ‘I love thee,… Her in his arms and kissed her wit… That dried the tears upon her flam… While evermore his boldly blazing…
HAIN’T you see my Mandy Lou, Is it true? Whaih you been f’om day to day, Whaih, I say? Dat you say you nevah seen
Summah night an’ sighin’ breeze, 'Long de lovah’s lane; Frien’ly, shadder—mekin’ trees, 'Long de lovah’s lane. White folks’ wo’k all done up gran…
I sit upon the old sea wall, And watch the shimmering sea, Where soft and white the moonbeams… Till, in a fantasy, Some pure white maiden’s funeral p…
PLACE this bunch of mignonette In her cold, dead hand; When the golden sun is set, Where the poplars stand, Bury her from sun and day,
I’S feelin’ kin’ o’ lonesome in m… An’ my min’s done los’ de minutes… W’ile it teks me back a—flyin’ to… Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin… Oh, de ol’ plantation’s callin’ to…
‘Twixt a smile and a tear, ’Twixt a song and a sigh, 'Twixt the day and the dark, When the night draweth nigh. Ah, sunshine may fade
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…
LITTLE brown face full of smile… And a baby’s guileless wiles, Liza May, Liza May. Eyes a—peeping thro’ the fence With an interest intense,