#Americans
I sometimes wonder if the mighty… Cares aught about the little deeds… And if their day and time can reac… Or raise their breath above the hu… Does He who lightly holds th’ ete…
Now with the dust that bore him he… Silent, into into earth’s silent m… Dimmed is his light, as with the s… He folds his steps unto the God w… When shall the weak stand and rejo…
Never shall I die While this untrammeled spirit-mine Shall in hope’s constellation shin… And faith-embraced my soul shall l…
They shall go down unto Life’s Bo… Walk unafraid within that Living… Nor heed the driving rain of shot… That 'round them falls; but with u… Be one with mighty hosts, an arméd…
A thousand years of darkness in he… She turns at last from out the cen… Of labored moan and dull oppressio… To slowly mount the rugged path an… Her measured step unto her ancient…
The slender moon in its silvery sh… The golden stars with the blue bet… Of a dreamy, summer sky; And still the night winds sigh. With the silvery moon to whisper t…
Old November, sere and brown, Clothes the country, haunts the to… Sheds its cloak of withered leaves… Brings its sighing, soughing breez… Prophet of the dying year,
I would not tarry if I could be g… Adown the path where calls my eage… That fate which knows naught but t… Holds me within its grasp, a helpl… And checks my steps when I would…
And Thou art One—One with th’ et… And with the flaming stars, and wi… Translucent, cold. The sentinel o… That clothes the sky in robes of l… The earth with warmth, the floweri…
Blue eyes, gray eyes, All the eyes that be, Hold within their changing depths Wealth of charm to me. Dark-eyed maid, of moment’s fancy,
Day passeth day in sunshine or sha… Night unto night each cycle is tol… Sun, moon and stars in whirling an… All unto all the creation unfold. What of the strivings, what of the…
From your life’s blood to coin a t… The past, the present and the futu… To hold—and weave it to a ringing… That sounds within the changing he…
The band of Gideon roam the sky, The howling wind is their war-cry, The thunder roll is their trump’s… And the lightning flash their veng… Each black cloud
O why are there eyes like these, That sparkle and dapple and tease, So wide with the morning, so deep… Dancing and gleaming in passioned… O why are there eyes like these?
I am so tired and weary, So tired of the endless fight, So weary of waiting the dawn And finding endless night. That I ask but rest and quiet—
