#AmericanWriters
“I am but clay,” the sinner plead, Who fed each vain desire. “Not only clay,” another said, “But worse, for thou art mire.”
I HELD my heart so far from harm… I let it wander far and free In mead and mart, without alarm, Assured it must come back to me. And all went well till on a day,
TUSKEGEE, ALA., APRIL 22,… Not to the midnight of the gloomy… Do we revert to—day; we look upon The golden present and the future… Whose vistas show us visions of th…
A DOWN the west a golden glow Sinks burning in the sea, And all the dreams of long ago Come flooding back to me. The past has writ a story strange
He had his dream, and all through… Worked up to it through toil and s… Afloat fore’er before his eyes, It colored for him all his skies: The storm—cloud dark
Over the hills and the valleys of… Slowly I take my way. Life is the night with its dream—v… Death is the waking at day. Down thro’ the dales and the bower…
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…
‘In the fight at Brandywine, Blac… a scythe, sweeps his way through t… '_Myths and Legends of Our Own L… Gray are the pages of record, Dim are the volumes of eld;
Night, dim night, and it rains, my… (Art thou dreaming of me, I wonde… The trees are sad, and the wind co… Outside the rolling of the thunder… And the beat against the panes.
TIM Murphy’s gon’ walkin’ wid Ma… O chone! If I was her muther, I’d frown on… O chone! I’m sure its unmutherlike, darin’…
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;
A man of low degree was sore oppre… Fate held him under iron—handed sw… And ever, those who saw him thus d… Would bid him bend his stubborn wi… But he, strong in himself and obdu…
OH the breeze is blowin’ balmy And the sun is in a haze; There’s a cloud jest givin’ coolne… To the laziest of days. There are crowds upon the lakeside…
A BLUE—BELL springs upon the l… A lark sits singing in the hedge; Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air… And life is brimming everywhere. What lark and breeze and bluebird…
A little dreaming by the way, A little toiling day by day; A little pain, a little strife, A little joy,—and that is life. A little short—lived summer’s morn…