#Americans #Blacks #XIXCentury
MOTHER’s gone a—visitin’ to spe… An’, oh, the house is lonesome ez… To other trees to build ag’in; the… That the echoes run like sperrits… The shetters flap more lazy—like '…
WHAT’S the use o’ folks a—frowni… When the way’s a little rough? Frowns lay out the road fur smilin… You’ll be wrinkled soon enough. What’s the use?
Love me. I care not what the circ… To me may do. If, but in spite of time and tears… You prove but true. Love me—albeit grief shall dim min…
I don’t believe in 'ristercrats An’ never did, you see; The plain ol’ homelike sorter folk… Is good enough fur me. O’ course, I don’t desire a man
TELL your love where the roses b… And the hearts of the lilies quive… Not in the city’s gleam and glow, But down by a half—sunned river. Not in the crowded ball—room’s gla…
In a small and lonely cabin out of… Sat an old man, bent and feeble, d… And beside him on the table, batte… Lay a banjo, droning forth this re… 'Night is closing in upon us, frie…
DEEP in my heart that aches with… And strives with plenitude of bitt… There lives a thought that clamors… And spends its undelivered force i… What boots it that some other may…
Ah, Douglass, we have fall’n on e… Such days as thou, not even thou d… When thee, the eyes of that harsh… Saw, salient, at the cross of devi… And all the country heard thee wit…
The November sun invites me, And although the chill wind smites… I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await; And with loud and joyful singing
THE lark is silent in his nest, The breeze is sighing in its fligh… Sleep, Love, and peaceful be thy… Good—night, my love, good—night, g… Sweet dreams’ attend thee in thy s…
WHEN you and I were young, the d… Were filled with scent of pink and… And full of joy from dawn till clo… From morning’s mist till evening’s… And when the robin sung his song
PHYLLIS, ah, Phyllis, my life… Few are my years, but my griefs ar… Ever to youth should each day be a… Warm wind and rose—breath and diam… Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is…
THE rain streams down like harp—s… The wind, that world—old harpist,… And ever as he sings his low refra… He plays upon the harp—strings of…
AN angel, robed in spotless white… Bent down and kissed the sleeping… Night woke to blush; the sprite wa… Men saw the blush and called it D…
Oh, the day has set me dreaming In a strange, half solemn way Of the feelings I experienced On another long past day,— Of the way my heart made music
