#Americans
The little child crosses the stree… Why does she wave to me? What sees she in my wasted form To hail so joyously? Her olive face and curly hair
Never shall I die While this untrammeled spirit-mine Shall in hope’s constellation shin… And faith-embraced my soul shall l…
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…
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
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…
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…
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—
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?
Brother, come! And let us go unto our God. And when we stand before Him I shall say— “Lord, I do not hate,
Out of the silence I come to you, Bringing a love Free as the dew. I come and sing
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…
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…
On the dusty earth-drum Beats the falling rain; Now a whispered murmur, Now a louder strain. Slender, silvery drumsticks,
I have found joy, Surcease from sorrow, From qualms for today And fears for tomorrow. I have found love,
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,