#Americans
Should painter attach to a fair hu… The thick, turgid neck of a stalli… Or depict a spruce lass with the t… I am sure you would guy the rapsca… Believe me, dear Pisos, that just…
Syn that you, Chloe, to your mode… Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures fu… Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-h… Whenas come lovers with theyre pit… Sothly it ben faire to give up you…
See, Thaliarch mine, how, white w… Soracte mocks the sullen sky; How, groaning loud, the woods are… And chained with frost the rivers… Pile, pile the logs upon the heart…
One day upon a topmost shelf I found a precious prize indeed, Which father used to read himself, But did not want us boys to read; A brown old book of certain age
Silent, to-night, o’er Judah’s hi… Bend low the angel throng, No heavenly music fills the air Exultantly with song; Yet, close above the sin-scarred e…
It’s June ag’in, an’ in my soul I… That’s sure to come this time o’ y… For, every June, the Sunday-schoo… Where “fields beyont the swellin’… Where little girls are skeered to…
Now lithe and listen, gentles all, Now lithe ye all and hark Unto a ballad I shall sing About Buena Park. Of all the wonders happening there
Come, brothers, share the fellowsh… We celebrate to-night; There’s grace of song on every lip And every heart is light! But first, before our mentor chime…
In maudlin spite let Thracians fi… Above their bowls of liquor; But such as we, when on a spree, Should never brawl and bicker! These angry words and clashing swo…
If I were Francois Villon and Fr… What would it matter to me how the… _He_ would in sweaty anguish toil… And still not keep the prowling, g… But, with my valiant bottle and my…
Strange that the city thoroughfare… Noisy and bustling all the day, Should with the night renounce its… And lend itself to children’s play… Oh, girls are girls, and boys are…
I looked in the brook and saw a fa… Heigh-ho, but a child was I! There were rushes and willows in t… And they clutched at the brook as… And the brook it ran its own sweet…
Out on the mountain over the town, All night long, all night long, The trolls go up and the trolls go… Bearing their packs and singing a… And this is the song the hill-folk…
Krinken was a little child,— It was summer when he smiled. Oft the hoary sea and grim Stretched its white arms out to hi… Calling, “Sun-child, come to me;
Keep me, I pray, in wisdom’s way That I may truths eternal seek; I need protecting care to-day,— My purse is light, my flesh is wea… So banish from my erring heart