#AmericanWriters
A KNOCK is at her door, but she… Strange dews have washed the paint… She does not rise, but, ah, this f… And knows that he will find her al… So opens he the door, and with sof…
THOUGH the winds be dank, And the sky be sober, And the grieving Day In a mantle gray Hath let her waiting maiden robe h…
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’,
WHO dat knockin’ at de do’? Why, Ike Johnson, —yes, fu’ sho! Come in, Ike. I’s mighty glad You come down. I t’ought you’s mad
Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane, Treat me nice. Dough my love has tu’ned my brain, Treat me nice. I ain’t done a t’ing to shame,
Long since, in sore distress, I h… ‘Lord, who prevailest with resistl… Ever from war and strife keep me a… My battles fight!’ I know not if I play the Pharisee…
'Tis fine to play In the fragrant hay, And romp on the golden load; To ride old Jack To the barn and back,
GRASS commence a—comin’ Thoo de thawin’ groun’, Evah bird dat whistles Keepin’ noise erroun’; Cain’t sleep in de mo’nin’,
THE lark is silent in his nest, The breeze is sighing in its fligh… Sleep, Love, and peaceful be thy… Good—night, my love, good—night, g… Sweet dreams’ attend thee in thy s…
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…
Oh, awful Power whose works repel The marvel of the earth’s designs,… I 'll hie me otherwhere to dwell, Arcadia has trolley lines.
Not they who soar, but they who pl… Their rugged way, unhelped, to Go… Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the so…
Come on walkin’ wid me, Lucy; 't… Wen de sunshine 's shoutin’ glory… An’ de little Johnny—Jump—Ups 's… Den a—lookin’ roun’ to ax each oth… Don’ you hyeah dem cows a—mooin’?…
Thy tones are silver melted into s… And as I dream I see no walls around, But seem to hear A gondolier
Oh to have you in May, To talk with you under the trees, Dreaming throughout the day, Drinking the wine—like breeze, Oh it were sweet to think