#AmericanWriters
Speakin’ of dorgs, my bench-legged… Hed most o’ the virtues, an’ nary… Some folks called him Sooner, a n… From his predisposition to chronic… But, rouse his ambition, he couldn…
Prudence Mears hath an old blue p… Hid away in an oaken chest, And a Franklin platter of ancient… Beareth Amandy Baker’s crest; What times soever I’ve been their…
What conversazzhyonies wuz I real… For that, you must remember, wuz a… The camp wuz new ‘nd noisy, ’nd on… So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly… There hadn’t been no grand events…
Out on the mountain over the town, All night long, all night long, The trolls go up and the trolls go… Bearing their packs and crooning a… And this is the song the hill-folk…
I say, as one who never feared The wrath of a subscriber’s bullet… I pity him who has a beard But has no little girl to pull it! When wife and I have finished tea…
Now lithe and listen, gentles all, Now lithe ye all and hark Unto a ballad I shall sing About Buena Park. Of all the wonders happening there
Who should come up the road one da… But the doctor-man in his two-whee… And he whoaed his horse and he cri… I have brought you folks a bow-leg… Such a cute little boy!
The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet… To my dear little boy at play - Merrily singeth all day long, As it spinneth and spinneth away. And my dear little boy
Sleep, little pigeon, and fold you… Little blue pigeon with velvet eye… Sleep to the singing of mother-bir… Swinging the nest where her little… Away out yonder I see a star,—
Krinken was a little child,— It was summer when he smiled. Oft the hoary sea and grim Stretched its white arms out to hi… Calling, “Sun-child, come to me;
How calm, how beauteous and how co… How like a sister to the skies, Appears the broad, transparent poo… That in this quiet forest lies. The sunshine ripples on its face,
As I was going to Bethlehem-town, Upon the earth I cast me down All underneath a little tree That whispered in this wise to me: ‘Oh, I shall stand on Calvary
As forth he pours the new made win… What blessing asks the lyric poet— What boon implores in this fair sh… Of one full likely to bestow it? Not for Sardinia’s plenteous stor…
I thought myself indeed secure, So fast the door, so firm the lock… But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock. My heart were stone could it withs…
There is a certain Yankee phrase I always have revered, Yet, somehow, in these modern days… It’s almost disappeared; It was the usage years ago,