#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Your influence, my friend, has gat… To east and west its tides encroac… There’ll be, on all God’s foot-st… No clean spot left for God to set…
It is a politician man He draweth near his end, And friends weep round that partis… Of every man the friend. Between the Known and the Unknown
Says England to Germany: 'Africa… Says Germany: ‘Ours, I opine.’ Says Africa: 'Tell me, delectable… What is it that ought to be mine?'
'Let Glory’s sons manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State. Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.'
Republicans think Jonas Bimm A Democrat gone mad, And Democrats consider him Republican and bad. The Tough reviles him as a Dude
What! ‘Out of danger?’ Can the sl… Or canting Pharisee no more defam… Will Treachery caress my hand no… Nor Hatred He alurk about my door… Ingratitude, with benefits dismiss…
Have but one God: thy knees were… If bent in prayer to three or four… Adore no images save those The coinage of thy country shows. Take not the Name in vain. Direct
Filled with a zeal to serve my fel… For years I criticised their pros… Pointed out all their blunders of… Their shallowness of thought and f… Damned them up hill and down with…
When, long ago, the young world ci… Through wider reaches of a richer… New-eyed, the men and maids saw, m… The thoughts untold in one another… Each wish displayed, and every pas…
From end to end, thine avenue, Va… Rang with the cries of battle and… Brave lungs were thundering with d… And perspiration smoked along the… Sing, heavenly muse, to ears of mo…
It is pleasant to think, as I’m w… A-drying along my paper, That a monument fine will surely b… When death has extinguished my tap… From each rhyming scribe of the jo…
I lay in silence, dead. A woman c… And laid a rose upon my breast, an… ‘May God be merciful.’ She spoke… And added, ‘It is strange to thin… ’He loved me well enough, but ‘t w…
Father! whose hard and cruel law Is part of thy compassion’s plan, Thy works presumptuously we scan For what the prophets say they saw… Unbidden still the awful slope
As sweet as the look of a lover Saluting the eyes of a maid That blossom to blue as the maid Is ablush to the glances above her… The sunshine is gilding the glade
I reckon that ye never knew, That dandy slugger, Tom Carew, He had a touch as light an’ free As that of any honey-bee; But where it lit there wasn’t much