#AmericanWriters
Night, dim night, and it rains, my… (Art thou dreaming of me, I wonde… The trees are sad, and the wind co… Outside the rolling of the thunder… And the beat against the panes.
WHO dat knockin’ at de do’? Why, Ike Johnson, —yes, fu’ sho! Come in, Ike. I’s mighty glad You come down. I t’ought you’s mad
I am the mother of sorrows, I am the ender of grief; I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late—falling leaf. I am thy priest and thy poet,
DO’ a—stan’in’ on a jar, fiah a—s… thoo, Ol’ folks drowsin’ 'roun’ de place… wide awake is Lou, W’en I tap, she answah, an’ I see
DONE are the toils and the weari… Done is the summons of bugle and d… Softly and sweetly the sky overarc… Shelt’ring a land where Rebellion… Dark were the days of the country’…
When summer time has come, and all The world is in the magic thrall Of perfumed airs that lull each se… To fits of drowsy indolence; When skies are deepest blue above,
Emblem of blasted hope and lost de… No finger ever traced thy yellow p… Save Time’s. Thou hast not wrough… The hearts thou wouldst have stirr… Save sad flames set to light a fun…
Dey was talkin’ in de cabin, dey w… But I listened kin’ o’ keerless,… An’ on Sunday, too, I noticed, de… Stan’in’ all erroun’ de roadside w… But I did n’t t’ink erbout it 'tw…
THE lake’s dark breast Is all unrest, It heaves with a sob and a sigh. Like a tremulous bird, From its slumber stirred,
Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey i… An’ de little branch’s watahs is a… De win’ goes roun’ de cabin lak a… An’ de chillen shakes an’ shivahs… Dey is hick’ry in de fiahplace, wh…
YOUR spoken words are roses fine… The songs you sing are perfect pea… How lavish nature is about your fe… To scatter flowers and jewels both… Blushing the stream of petal beaut…
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…
Dear critic, who my lightness so d… Would I might study to be prince… Right wisely would I rule that du… But, sir, I may not, till you abd…
By Mystic’s banks I held my dream… (I held my fishing rod as well,) The vision was of dace and bream, A fruitless vision, sooth to tell. But round about the sylvan dell
When I was young I longed for Lo… And held his glory far above All other earthly things. I cried… ‘Come, Love, dear Love, with me a… And with my subtlest art I wooed,
