#AmericanWriters
Abraham Lincoln is my nam[e] And with my pen I wrote the same I wrote in both hast and speed and left it here for fools to read
MY childhood’s home I see again, And sadden with the view; And still, as memory crowds my bra… There’s pleasure in it, too. O memory! thou midway world
You are young, and I am older; You are hopeful, I am not— Enjoy life, ere it grow colder— Pluck the roses ere they rot. Teach your beau to heed the lay—
In eighteen sixty three, with pomp… and mighty swell, Me and Jeff’s Confederacy, went forth to sack Phil-del, The Yankees the got arter us, and
Here, where the lonely hooting owl Sends forth his midnight moans, Fierce wolves shall o’er my carc… Or buzzards pick my bones. No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
My childhood’s home I see again, And sadden with the view; And still, as memory crowds my bra… There’s pleasure in it too. O Memory! thou midway world
Abraham Lincoln, His hand and pen: He will be good but God knows When.
A wild-bear chace, didst never see… Then hast thou lived in vain. Thy richest bump of glorious glee, Lies desert in thy brain. When first my father settled here,
