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…

TUSKEGEE, ALA., APRIL 22,… Not to the midnight of the gloomy… Do we revert to—day; we look upon The golden present and the future… Whose vistas show us visions of th…

Back to the breast of thy mother, Child of the earth! E’en her caress can not smother What thou hast done. Follow the trail of the westering…

GOO’—BY, Jinks, I got to hump, Got to mek dis pony jump; See dat sun a—goin’ down 'N’ me a—foolin’ hyeah in town! Git up, Suke —go long!

WHEN labor is light and the morn… I find it a pleasure beyond all co… To hitch up my nag and go hurrying… And take Katie May for a ride int… For bumpety—bump goes the wagon,

By rugged ways and thro’ the night We struggle blindly toward the lig… And groping, stumbling, ever pray For sight of long delaying day. The cruel thorns beside the road

Yes, my ha’t’s ez ha’d ez stone— Go 'way, Sam, an’ lemme 'lone. No; I ain’t gwine change my min’; Ain’t gwine ma’y you—nuffin’ de ki… Phiny loves you true an’ deah?

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…

I WAS not; now I am —a few days… I shall not be; I fain would look… And after, but can neither do; som… Or lack of power says 'no’ to all… I stand upon a wide and sunless pl…

Dear critic, who my lightness so d… Would I might study to be prince… Right wisely would I rule that du… But, sir, I may not, till you abd…

The gray of the sea, and the gray… A glimpse of the moon like a half—… The gleam on the waves and the lig… A thrill in my heart,—and—my sweet… She turned from the sea with a wom…

Across the hills and down the narr… And up the valley where the free w… The earth is folded in an ermined… That mocks the melting mirth of my… Departed her disheartening duns an…

IF 'twere fair to suppose That your heart were not taken, That the dew from the rose Petals still were not shaken, I should pluck you,

De axes has been ringin’ in de woo… An’ de chips has been a—fallin’ fa… Dey has cut de bigges’ hick’ry dat… An’ dey’s laid hit down and soaked… Den dey tuk hit to de big house an…

This poem must be done to—day; Then, I 'll e’en to it. I must not dream my time away,— I ‘m sure to rue it. The day is rather bright, I know