#Americans #Blacks #XIXCentury
Fling out your banners, your honor… Raise to the ether your paeans of… Strike every chord and let music b… Celebrate freely this day of all d… Few are the years since that notab…
When Phyllis sighs and from her e… The light dies out; my soul replie… With misery of deep—drawn breath, E’en as it were at war with death. When Phyllis smiles, her glance b…
OH, dere’s lots o’ keer an’ troub… In dis world to swaller down; An’ ol’ Sorrer’s purty lively In her way o’ gittin’ roun’. Yet dere’s times when I furgit 'e…
All hot and grimy from the road, Dust gray from arduous years, I sat me down and eased my load Beside the Fount of Tears. The waters sparkled to my eye,
I’S feelin’ kin’ o’ lonesome in m… An’ my min’s done los’ de minutes… W’ile it teks me back a—flyin’ to… Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin… Oh, de ol’ plantation’s callin’ to…
Oh for the breath of the briny dee… And the tug of the bellying sail, With the sea—gull’s cry across the… And a passing boatman’s hail. For, be she fierce or be she gay,
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 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!
UNDERNEATH the autumn sky, Haltingly, the lines go by. Ah, would steps were blithe and ga… As when first they marched away, Smile on lip and curl on brow,
Ring out, ye bells! All Nature swells With gladness at the wondrous stor… The world was at lorn, But Christ is born
PLACE this bunch of mignonette In her cold, dead hand; When the golden sun is set, Where the poplars stand, Bury her from sun and day,
MOTHER’s gone a—visitin’ to spe… An’, oh, the house is lonesome ez… To other trees to build ag’in; the… That the echoes run like sperrits… The shetters flap more lazy—like '…
She told her beads with down—cast… Within the ancient chapel dim; And ever as her fingers slim Slipt o’er th’ insensate ivories, My rapt soul followed, spaniel—wis…
Dear Miss Lucy: I been t’inkin’… But dis writin’ 's mighty tejous,… But I 's got a little lesure, so… Fu’ to let you know my feelin’s si… I ‘s right well, I ’s glad to tel…
Whut time 'd dat clock strike? Nine? No—eight; I didn’t think hit was so late. Aer chew! I must 'a’ got a cough, I raally b’lieve I did doze off—
