#Americans #Suicide #XIXCentury #XXCentury
This section is a Christmas tree: Loaded with pretty toys for you. Behold the blocks, the Noah’s ark… The popguns painted red and blue. No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit,
Upon her breast her hands and hair Were tangled all together. The moon of June forbade me not— The golden night time weather In balmy sighs commanded me
Factory windows are always broken. Somebody’s always throwing bricks, Somebody’s always heaving cinders, Playing ugly Yahoo tricks. Factory windows are always broken.
Though better men may fear that tr… I meet you, lady, on the Judgment… With golden hope my spirit still a… Our God who made you all so fair… Is three times gentle, and before…
We are happy all the time Even when we fight: Sweet briars of the stairways, Gay fairies of the grime; We, who are playing to-night.…
(To Eudora, after I had had ce… When Dragon-fly would fix his win… When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoa… Of tender Mister Mouse,
[How different people and differen… The Old Horse in the City The moon’s a peck of corn. It lie… Heaped up for me to eat. I wish that I might climb the pat…
(A song to be syncopated as you pl… Black cats, grey cats, green cats… Chasing the deacon who stole the c… He runs and tumbles, he tumbles an… He sees big white men with dogs an…
I look on the specious electrical… Blatant, mechanical, crawling and… Wickedly red or malignantly green Like the beads of a young Senegam… Showing, while millions of souls h…
Romance was always young. You come today Just eight years old With marvellous dark hair. Younger than Dante found you
The moon is now an opening flower, The sky a cliff of blue. The moon is now a silver rose; Her pollen is the dew. Her pollen is the mist that swings
Would that the lying rulers of the… Were brought to block for tyrannie… Would that the sword of Cromwell… The sword of Joshua and Gideon, Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of…
The Moon’s the North Wind’s cook… He bites it, day by day, Until there’s but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker.
I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SI… (To be read in your own variety… Legree’s big house was white and g… His cotton-fields were the best to… He had strong horses and opulent c…
Would that such hills and cities r… Such vistas of the actual earth an… As kindled Titian when his life b… Would that this latter Greek coul… Wisdom and splendor in our brushes…
