#Americans
Never again the sight of her? Never her winsome smile Shall light the path of my journey… O’er many a weary mile? Never again shall her soft voice c…
Brother, come! And let us go unto our God. And when we stand before Him I shall say— “Lord, I do not hate,
I plucked a rose from out a bower… That overhung my garden seat; And wondered I if, e’er before, b… A rose so sweet. Enwrapt in beauty I scarce felt t…
Peace to his ashes! I cannot for the soul of me Sorrowing bow, Tho I search through the heart of… Grieve for him now.
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?
Never shall I die While this untrammeled spirit-mine Shall in hope’s constellation shin… And faith-embraced my soul shall l…
I’m a-waiting and a-watching for t… For the sun that’s ever shining, f… For the light that casts no shadow… For the rose that’s ever blooming… I’m a-waiting and a watching for t…
O, Little David, play on your har… That ivory harp with the golden st… And sing as you did in Jewry Land… Of the Prince of Peace and the G… And the coming Christ Immanuel.
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…
Forget? Ah, never! Your eyes, your voice, your lips. Those little ways of love, Half-childish yet all-wise
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…
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…
Were you to come, With your clear, gray eyes As calmly placid as, in summer’s h… At noontide lie the sultry skies; With your dark, brown hair
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,
Why do men smile when I speak, And call my speech The whimperings of a babe That cries but knows not what it w… Is it because I am black?