#AmericanWriters
Thy tones are silver melted into s… And as I dream I see no walls around, But seem to hear A gondolier
Duck come switchin’ 'cross de lot Hi, oh, Miss Lady! Hurry up an’ hide de pot Hi, oh, Miss Lady! Duck’s a mighty 'spicious fowl,
EIGHT of 'em hyeah all tol’ an’… Dese eyes o’ mine is wringin’ wet; My haht’s a—achin’ ha’d an’ so’, De way hit nevah ached befo’; My soul’s a—pleadin’, 'Lawd give…
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!
Bring me the livery of no other ma… I am my own to robe me at my pleas… Accepted rules to me disclose no t… What is the chief who shall my gar… No garb conventional but I 'll at…
WHAT says the wind to the waving… What says the wave to the river? What means the sigh in the passing… Why do the rushes quiver? Have you not heard the fainting cr…
In this old garden, fair, I walk… Heart—charmed with all the beauty… The rich, luxuriant grasses’ cooli… The wall’s environ, ivy—decked and… The waving branches with the wind…
In the silence of my heart, I will spend an hour with thee, When my love shall rend apart All the veil of mystery: All that dim and misty veil
Win’ a—blowin’ gentle so de san’ l… San’ a little heavy f’om de rain, All de pa’ms a—wavin’ an’ a—weavin… Sighin’ lak a sinnah—soul in pain. Alligator grinnin’ by de ol’ lagoo…
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;
I ‘ve journeyed ’roun’ consid’able… An’ I 've learned a little of the… But in spite of all my travelling… I 've got one notion in my head, t… An’ it is that the folks I meet i…
The sun hath shed its kindly light… Our harvesting is gladly o’er Our fields have felt no killing bl… Our bins are filled with goodly st… From pestilence, fire, flood, and…
‘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;
As lone I sat one summer’s day, With mien dejected, Love came by; His face distraught, his locks ast… So slow his gait, so sad his eye, I hailed him with a pitying cry:
The mist has left the greening pla… The dew—drops shine like fairy rai… The coquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees,
