#AmericanWriters
Long time ago, we two set out, My soul and I. I know not why, For all our way was dim with doubt… I know not where
STEP me now a bridal measure, Work give way to love and leisure, Hearts be free and hearts be gay — Doctor Dan doth wed to—day. Diagnosis, cease your squalling —
They please me not—these solemn so… That hint of sermons covered up. 'T is true the world should heed i… But in a poem let me sup, Not simples brewed to cure or ease
Long had I grieved at what I deem… But now I am as grain within the… If so be thou must crush me for th… Grind on, O potent God, and do th…
‘Twixt a smile and a tear, ’Twixt a song and a sigh, 'Twixt the day and the dark, When the night draweth nigh. Ah, sunshine may fade
THE sand—man he’s a jolly old fel… His face is kind and his voice is… But he makes your eyelids as heavy… And then you got to go off to bed; I don’t think I like the sand—man…
DE win’ is blowin’ wahmah, An hit’s blowin’ f’om de bay; Dey’s a so’t o’ mist a—risin’ All erlong de meddah way; Dey ain’t a hint o’ frostin’
SINCE I left the city’s heat For this sylvan, cool retreat, High upon the hill—side here Where the air is clean and clear, I have lost the urban ways.
He was a poet who wrote clever ver… And folks said he had a fine poeti… But his father, a practical farmer… Of letting the strength of his arm… He called on his sweetheart each…
She sang, and I listened the whol… (It was sweet, so sweet, the singi… The stars were out and the moon it… From a wee soft glimmer way out in… To a bird thro’ the heavens wingin…
In the tents of Akbar Are dole and grief to—day, For the flower of all the Indies Has gone the silent way. In the tents of Akbar
ON the wide veranda white, In the purple failing light, Sits the master while the sun is l… And his dreamy thoughts are drowne… In the softly flowing sound
I BE’N down in ole Kentucky Fur a week er two, an’ say, 'T wuz ez hard ez breakin’ oxen Fur to tear myse’f away. Allus argerin’ 'bout fren’ship
The sun hath shed its kindly light… Our harvesting is gladly o’er Our fields have felt no killing bl… Our bins are filled with goodly st… From pestilence, fire, flood, and…
'T is better to sit here beside th… Here on the spray—kissed beach, In silence, that between such frie… Is full of deepest speech.