#AmericanWriters
The world is turned ag’in’ me, And people says, 'They guess That nothin’ else is in me But pure maliciousness!' I git the blame for doin’
But yesterday!... O blooms of May, And summer roses—Where-away? O stars above, And lips of love
As one who cons at evening o’er an… And muses on the faces of the frie… So I turn the leaves of Fancy, ti… I find the smiling features of an… The lamplight seems to glimmer wit…
In some strange place Of long-lost lands he finds her wa… Comes marveling upon it, unaware, Set moonwise in the midnight of he…
I so loved once, when Death came… Away my face, And all my sweetheart’s tresses sh… To make my hiding-place. The dread shade passed me thus unh…
Time is so long when a man is dead… Some one sews; and the room is mad… Very clean; and the light is shed Soft through the window-shade. Yesterday I thought: ‘I know
1 You better not fool with a… 2 Ef you don’t think they can… 3 They’re lazy to look at, an’… 4 Buzzin’ an’ bummin’ aroun’ s… 5 An’ ac’ so slouchy an’ all f…
Ha! My dear! I’m back again— Vendor of Bohemia’s wares! Lordy! How it pants a man Climbing up those awful stairs! Well, I’ve made the dealer say
Once, in a dream, I saw a man With haggard face and tangled hair… And eyes that nursed as wild a car… As gaunt Starvation ever can; And in his hand he held a wand
I’m thist a little cripple boy, an… An’ get a great big man at all!—'c… When I was thist a baby onc’t, I… An’ got 'The Curv’ture of the Sp… I never had no Mother nen—fer my…
Las’ time 'at Uncle Sidney come, He bringed a watermelon home— An’ half the boys in town, Come taggin’ after him.—An’ he Says, when we et it,—_'Gracious m…
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…
There are many things that boys ma… Why this and that are thus and so,… Who made the world in the dark and… The great sun up to lighten it: Boys know new things every day—
I woo’d a woman once, But she was sharper than an easter… Tennyson “What may I do to make you glad, To make you glad and free,
The old days—the far days— The overdear and fair!— The old days—the lost days— How lovely they were! The old days of Morning,