#AmericanWriters
Me an’ Bert an’ Minnie-Belle Knows a joke, an’ we won’t tell! No, we don’t—'cause we don’t know _Why_ we got to laughin’ so; But we got to laughin’ so,
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…
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
Young Philiper Flash was a promis… His intentions were good—but oh, h… For a person to think How the veriest pink And bloom of perfection may turn o…
O the drum! There is some Intonation in thy grum Monotony of utterance that strikes… As we hear
There is a princess in the South About whose beauty rumors hum Like honey-bees about the mouth Of roses dewdrops falter from; And O her hair is like the fine
I would not trace the hackneyed ph… Of shallow words and empty praise, And prate of 'peace’ till one migh… My foolish pen was drunk with ink. Nor will I here the wish express
One 's the pictur’ of his Pa, And the _other_ of her Ma— Jes the bossest pair o’ babies ‘at… And we love ’em as the bees Loves the blossoms of the trees,
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
Out at Woodruff Place—afar From the city’s glare and jar, With the leafy trees, instead Of the awnings, overhead; With the shadows cool and sweet,
A little boy once played so loud That the Thunder, up in a thunder… Said, 'Since I can’t be heard, wh… I’ll never, never thunder again!' And a little girl once kept so sti…
Being his mother—when he goes away I would not hold him overlong, and… Sometimes my yielding sight of him… So quick of tears, I joy he did n… To catch the faintest rumor of the…
The Jaybird he’s my _favorite_ Of all the birds they is! I think he’s quite a stylish sight In that blue suit of his: An’ when he’ lights an’ shuts his…
New Castle, July 4, 1878 or a hundred years the pulse of ti… Has throbbed for Liberty; For a hundred years the grand old… Columbia has been free;
Old friend of mine, whose chiming… Has been the burthen of a rhyme Within my heart since first I cam… To know thee in thy mellow prime; With warm emotions in my breast