#Americans #Blacks #XIXCentury
A life was mine full of the close… Of many—voiced affairs. The world… Behind me, ever rolled a pregnant… A present came equipped with lore… Art, science, letters, in their tu…
TWO little boots all rough an’ wo… Two little boots! Laws, I’s kissed 'em times befo’, Dese little boots! Seems de toes a—peepin’ thoo
DIS is gospel weathah sho’ — Hills is sawt o’ hazy. Meddahs level ez a flo’ Callin’ to de lazy. Sky all white wif streaks o’ blue,
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…
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:
I done got 'uligion, honey, an’ I… Evahthing I see erbout me ’s jes’… An’ it seems lak I do’ want to do… But jes’ run an’ tell de neighbour… I done shuk my fis’ at Satan, an’…
YOUR spoken words are roses fine… The songs you sing are perfect pea… How lavish nature is about your fe… To scatter flowers and jewels both… Blushing the stream of petal beaut…
(From a Westerner’s Point of Vie… No matter what you call it, Whether genius, or art, He sings the simple songs that com… The closest to your heart.
Dey is times in life when Nature Seems to slip a cog an’ go, Jes’ a—rattlin’ down creation, Lak an ocean’s overflow; When de worl’ jes’ stahts a—spinni…
GOOD hunting! —aye, good hunting… Wherever the forests call; But ever a heart beats hot with fe… And what of the birds that fall? Good hunting! —aye, good hunting,
THERE’s a memory keeps a-runnin’ Through my weary head to-night, An’ I see a picture dancin’ In the fire-flames’ ruddy-light; 'Tis the picture of an orchard
COVER him over with daisies whit… And eke with the poppies red, Sit with me here by his couch to—n… For the First—Born, Love, is dea… Poor little fellow, he seemed so f…
As in some dim baronial hall restr… A prisoner sits, engirt by secret… And waving tapestries that argue f… Strange passages into the outer ai… So in this dimmer room which we ca…
I 's boun’ to see my gal to—night— Oh, lone de way, my dearie! De moon ain’t out, de stars ain’t… Oh, lone de way, my dearie! Dis hoss o’ mine is pow’ful slow,
Ah me, it is cold and chill And the fire sobs low in the grate… While the wind rides by on the hil… And the logs crack sharp with hate… And she, she is cold and sad
