#AmericanWriters
WELCOME, welcome, little strang… Fear no harm, and fear no danger; We are glad to see you here, For you sing ‘Sweet Spring is nea… Now the white snow melts away;
We mourn the loss of our little pe… And sigh o’er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she’ll… Nor play by the old green gate. The little grave where her infant…
‘Y’ are the maiden posies, And so graced, To be placed Fore damask roses. Yet, though thus respected,
The moonlight fades from flower an… And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung… And the Fairy feast is done. The night-wind rocks the sleeping…
‘Give me freshening breeze, my boy… A white and swelling sail, A ship that cuts the dashing waves… And weathers every gale. What life is like a sailor’s life,
We are sending you, dear flowers Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not… O’er the cold graves where you lie… But you go to bring them fadeless…
He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride. He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. I am content with what I have,
GLEAMING through the silent ch… Winter sunlight seemed to shed Golden shadows like soft blessings O’er a quiet little bed, Where a pale face lay unheeding
‘I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing. ’First it is a little grub,
Now the day is done, Now the shepherd sun Drives his white flocks from the s… Now the flowers rest On their mother’s breast,
In a quiet, pleasant meadow, Beneath a summer sky, Where green old trees their branch… And winds went singing by; Where a little brook went rippling
O lesson well and wisely taught Stay with me to the last, That all my life may better be For the trial that is past. O vanity, mislead no more!
‘A little bird I am, Shut from the fields of air, And in my cage I sit and sing To Him who placed me there: Well pleased a prisoner to be,
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gl… Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that bright… Beneath the flowering vines. Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet…
‘Dear Grif, Here is a whiff Of beautiful spring flowers; The big red rose Is for your nose,