#AmericanWriters
This is the time when larks are si… And higher still ascending and mor… This is the time when many a fleec… Runs lamb-like on the pastures of… This is the time when most I love…
Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away. Ye shall pass and be forgot, And your place shall know you not. Other generations rise,
Mourn that which will not come aga… The joy, the strength of early yea… Bow down thy head, and let thy tea… Water the grave where hope lies sl… For tears are like a summer rain,
The sun shines fair on Tweedside,… Your heart is full of pleasure, yo… Your cheeks are like the morning,… Or morning and her dew-drops are l… Because you are a princess, a prin…
The voice that sings across the ni… Of long forgotten days and things, Is there an ear to hear aright The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings
When the weary night is fled, And the morning sky is red, Then my heart doth rise and say, ‘Surely she will come to-day.’ In the golden blaze of noon,
The Red King’s gone a-hunting, in… For the tall red deer to wander th… The King and Walter Tyrrel, Prin… Are all gone out upon the sport th… Last night, when they were feastin…
Brown was my friend, and faithful’… He came to see me in the twilight… I rose politely and invited him To take a seat’how heavily he sa… He sat upon the sofa, where my hat…
Let me sleep. The day is past, And the folded shadows keep Weary mortals safe and fast. Let me sleep. I am all too tired to weep
After Longfellow Loud he sang the song Ta Phershon For his personal diversion, Sang the chorus U-pi-dee, Sang about the Barley Bree.
Thou art queen to every eye, When the fairest maids convene. Envy’s self can not deny Thou art queen. In thy step thy right is seen,
For thee the birds shall never sin… Nor fresh green leaves come out up… The brook shall no more murmur the… For thee. Thou liest underneath the windswep…
Oh, who may this dead warrior be That to his grave they bring? ’Tis William, Duke of Normandy, The conqueror and king. Across the sea, with fire and swor…
As I was walking down the street A week ago, Near Henderson’s I chanced to mee… A man I know. His name is Alexander Bell,
Never was sun so bright before, No matin of the lark so sweet, No grass so green beneath my feet, Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o’… I stand with thee outside the door…