#Americans
Prate, ye who will, of so-called c… The land of stoves and sunshine is… I’ve done the grand for fourteen m… And I’ve learned a heap of learni… And the biggest bit of wisdom I’v…
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray; For though you pine your life away With dull complaining breath, Or speed with song and wine each d… Still, still your doom is death.
Dear, noble friend! a virgin cask Of wine solicits your attention; And roses fair, to deck your hair, And things too numerous to mention… So tear yourself awhile away
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…
Last night, my darling, as you sle… I thought I heard you sigh, And to your little crib I crept, And watched a space thereby; And then I stooped and kissed you…
One asketh: “Tell me, Myrson, tell me true: What’s the season pleaseth you? Is it summer suits you best, When from harvest toil we rest?
I ain’t afeard uv snakes, or toads… An’ things 'at girls are skeered u… I’m pretty brave, I guess; an’ ye… For, when I’m tucked up warm an’… Mother tells me “Happy dreams!” a…
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…
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
The little toy dog is covered with… But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red… And his musket molds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog w…
Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Sou… The evening shades are falling,— Hush thee, my dear, dost thou not… The voice of the Master calling? Deep lies the snow upon the earth,
The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fe… And there befell the episode I no… 'T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine,—… There hove in sight one afternoon… His name wuz Silas Pettibone,—a’…
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When birds are on the wing, When bee and bud and babbling floo… Bespeak the birth of spring, Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl… Strays o’er the meads where daisie… Or, ling’ring where the brooklets… Laves in the cool, refreshing flow… To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host
Though care and strife Elsewhere be rife, Upon my word I do not heed ‘em; In bed I lie With books hard by,