#AmericanWriters
It was a man of many parts, Who in his coffer mind Had stored the Classics and the A… And Sciences combined; The purest gems of poesy
The boy lives on our Farm, he’s n… Afeard o’ horses none! An’ he can make 'em lope, er trot, Er rack, er pace, er run. Sometimes he drives two horses, wh…
Ah, Almon Keefer! what a boy you… With your back-tilted hat and care… And open, honest, fresh, fair face… With their all-varying looks of pl… And joyous interest in flower and…
The rain! the rain! the rain! It gushed from the skies and strea… Like awful tears; and the sick man… How pitiful it seemed! And he turned his face away,
Within the sitting-room, the compa… Had been increased in number. Two… Young couples had been added: Emm… Ella and Mary Mathers—all could s… Like veritable angels—Lydia Marti…
How slight a thing may set one’s f… Upon the dead sea of the Past!—A… Sometimes an odor—or a rooster lif… A far-off ‘OOH! OOH-OOH!’ And suddenly we find ourselves ast…
It’s a mystery to see me—a man o’… Who’s lived a cross old bachelor f… A-lookin’ glad and smilin’! And t… That you can guess the reason why… I must tell you all about it! But…
Iry an’ Billy an’ Jo!— Iry an’ Billy’s _the boys_, An’ _Jo’s_ their _dog_, you know,… Their pictures took all in a row. Bet they kin kick up a noise—
The ripest peach is highest on the… And so her love, beyond the reach… Is dearest in my sight. Sweet bre… Her heart down to me where I wors… She looms aloft where every eye ma…
DIED—Early morning of September… in the gleaming dawn of ‘name and… Hamilton J. Dunbar. Dead! Dead! Dead! We thought him ours alone;
If I knew what poets know, Would I write a rhyme Of the buds that never blow In the summer-time? Would I sing of golden seeds
They walk here with us, hand-in-ha… We gossip, knee-by-knee; They tell us all that they have pl… Of all their joys to be,— And, laughing, leave us: And, to-…
I hain’t no hand at tellin’ tales, Er spinnin’ yarns, as the sailors… Someway o’ 'nother, language fails To slide fer me in the oily way That LAWYERS has; and I wisht…
Seems like a feller’d ort 'o jes’… Git down and roll and waller, don’… In that-air stubble, and flop up a… Seein’ sich craps! I’ll undertake… There’re no wheat’s ever turned ou…
AFTER LEE O. HARRIS The master-hand whose pencils trac… This wondrous landscape of the mor… Is but the sun, whose glowing face Reflects the rapture and the grace