#AmericanWriters
There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I kno… And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago;
O we go down to sea in ships— But Hope remains behind, And Love, with laughter on his li… And Peace, of passive mind; While out across the deeps of nigh…
Sweet little myth of the nursery s… Earliest love of mine infantile br… Be something tangible, bloom in th… Into existence, as thou art addres… Hasten! appear to me, guileless an…
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
The summer winds is sniffin’ round… locus’ trees; And the clover in the pastur is a… And they been a-swiggin’ honey, ab… sly,
'I deem that God is not disquiete… This in a mighty poet’s rhymes I… And blazoned so forever doth abide Within my soul the legend glorifie… Though awful tempests thunder over…
Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How t… And how the glossy horses tossed t… As the rattle and the rhyme of the… Filled all the hungry hearts of us… How the grand band-wagon shone wit…
Jap Miller down at Martinsville’s… When _he_ starts in a-talkin’ othe… 'Pears like that mouth o’ his’n wu… But jes’ to argify 'em down and ge… He’ll talk you down on tariff; er…
DEAD! my wayward boy—_my own_— Not _the Law’s!_ but _mine_—the g… God’s free gift to me alone, Sanctified by motherhood. ‘Bad,’ you say: Well, who is not?
Tomps 'ud allus haf to say Somepin’ ‘bout ’his mother’s way.'… _He_ lived hard-like—never jined Any church of any kind.— 'It was Mother’s way,' says he,
A goddess, with a siren’s grace,— A sun-haired girl on a craggy plac… Above a bay where fish-boats lay Drifting about like birds of prey. Wrought was she of a painter’s dre…
The frightened herds of clouds acr… Trample the sunshine down, and cha… Into the dusky forest-lands of gra… And sombre twilight. Far and fain… The wild goose trails his harrow,…
W’y, one time wuz a little-weenty… An’ she wuz named Red Riding Hoo… Her _Ma_ she maked a little red c… 'At turnt up over her head—An’ it… Ist one piece o’ red cardinal ‘at…
O soul of mine, look out and see My bride, my bride that is to be! Reach out with mad, impatient hand… And draw aside futurity As one might draw a veil aside—
I crave, dear Lord, No boundless hoard Of gold and gear, Nor jewels fine, Nor lands, nor kine,