#AmericanWriters
Tell you what I like the best— ‘Long about knee-deep in June, ’Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine,—some afternoon Like to jes’ git out and rest,
Our three cats is Maltese cats, An’ they’s two that’s white,— An’ bofe of 'em’s _deef_—an’ that’… 'Cause their _eyes_ ain’t right.— Uncle say that _Huxley_ say
The touches of her hands are like… Of velvet snowflakes; like the tou… The peach just brushes 'gainst the… The flossy fondlings of the thistl… Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of…
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…
Who am I but the Frog—the Frog! My realm is the dark bayou, And my throne is the muddy and mos… That the poison-vine clings to— And the blacksnakes slide in the s…
Our Land—our Home—the common home… Of soil-born children and adopted… The stately daughters and the stal… Of Industry—: All greeting and go… O home to proudly live for, and if…
I am tired of this! Nothing else but loving! Nothing else but kiss and kiss, Coo, and turtle-doving! Can’t you change the order some?
The audience entire seemed pleased… _Extremely_ pleased. And little M… From her task of instructing, ran… Her wondrous colored picture to an… Among the company.
MAY 30, 1878, Dying for victory, cheer on cheer Thundered on his eager ear. —CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN. Deep, tender, firm and true, the…
_Piped to the Spirit of John Kea… Would that my lips might pour out… A fitting melody—an air sublime,— A song sun-washed and draped in dr… The floss and velvet of luxurious…
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree… It’s a long, sweet way across the… The bird sings low as the bumble-b… It’s a long, sweet way across the… The poor shote-pig he says, says h…
First she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus’ like we did When Mother died,—and we all said
Sence I tuk holt o’ Gibbses’ Chu… And be’n a-handlin’ the concern, I’ve travelled round the grand old… Of Indiany, lots, o’ late—! I’ve canvassed Crawferdsville and…
‘Now who shall say he loves me not… He wooed her first in an atmospher… Of tender and low-breathed sighs; But the pang of her laugh went cut… To the soul of the enterprise;
DAWN As though a gipsy maiden with dim… Sat crooning by the roadside of th… So, Autumn, in thy strangeness, t… To read dark fortunes for us from…