#AmericanWriters
‘LIAS! ’Lias! Bless de Lawd! Don’ you know de day’s erbroad? Ef you don’ git up, you scamp, Dey’ll be trouble in dis camp. Tink I gwine to let you sleep
The Midnight wooed the Morning S… And prayed her: “Love come nearer… Your swinging coldly there afar To me but makes you dearer.” The Morning Star was pale with do…
DAYS git wa’m and wa’mah, School gits mighty dull, Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs Mus’ feel mussiful. Hookey’s wrong, I know it
'Tis an old deserted homestead On the outskirts of the town, Where the roof is all moss—covered… And the walls are tumbling down; But around that little cottage
With sombre mien, the Evening gra… Comes nagging at the heels of Day… And driven faster and still faster Before the dusky—mantled Master, The light fades from her fearful e…
Search thou my heart; If there be guile, It shall depart Before thy smile. Search thou my soul;
Say a mass for my soul’s repose, m… Say a mass for my soul’s repose,… Lovingly lived we, the sons of one… Mine was the sin, but I pray you… Dark were her eyes as the sloe and…
MY cot was down by a cypress grov… And I sat by my window the whole… And heard well up from the deep da… A mocking—bird’s passionate song. And I thought of myself so sad an…
Mastah drink his ol’ Made’a, Missy drink huh sherry wine, Ovahseah lak his whiskey, But dat othah drink is mine, Des’ 'lasses an’ watah, 'lasses an…
Ef dey 's anyt’ing dat riles me An’ jes’ gits me out o’ hitch, Twell I want to tek my coat off, So 's to r’ar an’ t’ar an’ pitch, Hit’s to see some ign’ant white ma…
The word is writ that he who runs… What is the passing breath of eart… But to snatch glory from the hands… That is to be, to live, to strive… A poor Virginia cabin gave the se…
HAIN’T you see my Mandy Lou, Is it true? Whaih you been f’om day to day, Whaih, I say? Dat you say you nevah seen
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
Oh, awful Power whose works repel The marvel of the earth’s designs,… I 'll hie me otherwhere to dwell, Arcadia has trolley lines.
Temples he built and palaces of ai… And, with the artist’s parent—prid… His fancy saw his vague ideals gro… Into creations marvellously fair; He set his foot upon Fame’s nethe…