#AmericanWriters
I have seen full many a sight Born of day or drawn by night: Sunlight on a silver stream, Golden lilies all a—dream, Lofty mountains, bold and proud,
THE night is dewy as a maiden’s m… The skies are bright as are a maid… Soft as a maiden’s breath the wind… Up from the perfumed bosom of the… Like sentinels, the pines stand in…
If thro’ the sea of night which here summons me, I could swim out beyond the farthest star, Break every barrier of circumstanc…
Out in the sky the great dark clou… I look far out into the pregnant n… Where I can hear the solemn boomi… And catch the gleaming of a random… That tells me that the ship I see…
Woman’s sho’ a cur’ous critter, an… She’s a mess o’ funny capahs f’om… Ef you tries to un’erstan’ huh, an… 'D’ ain’t a bit o’ use to try to u… I don’ mean to be complainin’, but…
In the east the morning comes, Hear the rollin’ of the drums On the hill. But the heart that beat as they be… In the battle’s raging day heat
Night is for sorrow and dawn is fo… Chasing the troubles that fret and… Darkness for sighing and daylight… Cheery and chaste the strain, hear… All the night through, though I m…
MY muvver’s ist the nicest one 'At ever lived wiz folks; She lets you have ze mostes’ fun, An’ laffs at all your jokes. I got a ol’ maid auntie, too,
THERE’s a memory keeps a-runnin’ Through my weary head to-night, An’ I see a picture dancin’ In the fire-flames’ ruddy-light; 'Tis the picture of an orchard
NOT o’er thy dust let there be sp… The gush of maudlin sentiment; Such drift as that is not for thee… Whose life and deeds and songs agr… Sublime in their simplicity.
I’VE been watchin’ of 'em parson, An’ I’m sorry fur to say 'At my mind is not contented With the loose an’ keerless way ‘At the young folks treat the musi…
I THINK that though the clouds… That though the waves dash o’er th… Yet after while the light will com… And in calm waters safe at home The bark will anchor.
Come when the nights are bright wi… Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay—field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray…
Love hath the wings of the butterf… Oh, clasp him but gently, Pausing and dipping and fluttering… Inconsequently. Stir not his poise with the breath…
Hyeah come Caesar Higgins, Don’t he think he 's fine? Look at dem new riggin’s Ain’t he tryin’ to shine? Got a standin’ collar