#AmericanWriters
Jes’ lak toddy wahms you thoo’ Sets yo’ haid a reelin’, Meks you ovah good and new, Dat ‘s de way I ’s feelin’. Seems to me hit ‘s summah time,
AN angel, robed in spotless white… Bent down and kissed the sleeping… Night woke to blush; the sprite wa… Men saw the blush and called it D…
I AM no priest of crooks nor cree… For human wants and human needs Are more to me than prophets’ deed… And human tears and human cares Affect me more than human prayers.
AH, Nora, my Nora, the light fad… While Night like a spirit steals… The thrash from his tree where he… No longer his music in ecstasy tri… Then, Nora, be near me; thy prese…
THERE’S a fabulous story Full of splendor and glory, That Arabian legends transcends; Of the wealth without measure, The coffers of treasure,
The poor man went to the rich man’… ‘I come as Lazarus came,’ he said… The rich man turned with humble he… ‘I will send my dogs to lick your…
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
Long years ago, within a distant c… Ere Love had touched me with his… I dreamed of one to make my life’s… The panting passion of a summer’s… And ever since, in almost sad susp…
I Found you and I lost you, All on a gleaming day. The day was filled with sunshine, And the land was full of May. A golden bird was singing
OUTSIDE the rain upon the stree… The sky all grim of hue, Inside, the music—painful sweet, And yet I heard but you As is a thrilling violin,
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…
How sweet the music sounded That summer long ago, When you were by my side, love, To list its gentle flow. I saw your eyes a—shining,
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’…
GOD has his plans, and what if we With our sight be too blind to see Their full fruition; cannot he, Who made it, solve the mystery? One whom we loved has fall’n aslee…
HE scribbles some in prose and ve… And now and then he prints it; He paints a little, —gathers some Of Nature’s gold and mints it. He plays a little, sings a song,