#EnglishWriters
HERE 's a letter from John in th… Ain’t heard from him now fer a yea… Yes, his handwritin’ s stylish an’… An’ rounded an’ wonderf’ly clear; Says he hopes we are all well an’…
fight worth while on this good old… Isn’t the fight for a hoard of gol… It isn’t the fight to increase you… In stocks and bonds and things to… It isn’t the fight for a higher pl…
UNDER a tree where the breezes b… There is the spot that it’s good t… With the children bronzed by the… Bubbling with laughter and wholeso… And I gather them round—all the h…
It’s good to have the trees again,… It’s good to see the lilacs bloom… It’s good that we can feel again t… For hearts and minds, of sorrow no… The roses haven’t changed a bit, n…
If you would rise above the throng And seek the crown of fame, You must do more than drift along And merely play the game. Whatever path your feet may tread,
We were speakin’ of excitement, an… That sorter dot life’s landscape,… An’ one feller spoke of bein’ in a… An’ another one of skatin’ on some… Then a meek-faced little brother i…
He little knew the sorrow that was… He never guessed they’d miss him,… He couldn’t see his mother or the… Or the tears that started falling… And he couldn’t see his father, si…
You shall have satin and silk to w… When my ship comes in; And jewels to shine in your raven… When my ship comes in. Oh, the path is dreary to-day and…
SHE wanted to be asked again, And so she wiped the dishes, She took a knife, and with the men She helped to clean the fishes; She made her bed and swept the flo…
I’d like to be the sort of friend… been to me; I’d like to be the help that you’v… glad to be; I’d like to mean as much to you ea…
LADY, when you say you’ll come Tuesday morn to do our washing, Tell us if there isn’t some Way to know if you are joshing? When you promise to be here
When night time comes an’ I can g… Back to the folks who love me so, An’ see 'em smile an’ hear 'em sin… An’ feel their kisses, then, by ji… I vow this world is mighty fine
There’ve been times we’d disagree Somethin’ awful, Ma an’ me; Times when I would bang the door Never to come back no more, An’ go stompin’ down the street
Eagerly he took my dime, Then shuffled on his way, Thick with sin and filth and grime… But I wondered all that day How the man had gone astray.
I wish I was a poet like the men… The poems that we have to learn on… I’d write of things that children… An’ when the kids recited them the… If I’d been born a Whittier, inst…