#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I find an old deserted nest, Half-hidden in the underbrush: A withered leaf, in phantom jest, Has nestled in it like a thrush With weary, palpitating breast.
I’m bin a-visitun 'bout a week To my little Cousin’s at Nameless… An’ I’m got the hives an’ a new s… An’ I’m come back home where my b…
Ho! it’s come, kids, come! 'With a bim! bam! bum! Here’s little Billy bangin’ on hi… He’s a-marchin’ round the room, With his feather-duster plume
Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How t… And how the glossy horses tossed t… As the rattle and the rhyme of the… Filled all the hungry hearts of us… How the grand band-wagon shone wit…
The touches of her hands are like… Of velvet snowflakes; like the tou… The peach just brushes 'gainst the… The flossy fondlings of the thistl… Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of…
Thou Poet, who, like any lark, Dost whet thy beak and trill From misty morn till murky dark, Nor ever pipe thy fill: Hast thou not, in thy cheery note,
In the jolly winters Of the long-ago, It was not so cold as now— O! No! No! Then, as I remember,
I have jest about decided It 'ud keep a _town-boy_ hoppin’ Fer to work all winter, choppin’ Fer a’ old fire-place, like _I_ d… Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy…
And there, in that ripe Summer-ni… A wintry coolness through the open… And window seemed to touch each gl… Refreshingly; and, for a fleeting… The quickened fancy, through the f…
It’s a mystery to see me—a man o’… Who’s lived a cross old bachelor f… A-lookin’ glad and smilin’! And t… That you can guess the reason why… I must tell you all about it! But…
Time is so long when a man is dead… Some one sews; and the room is mad… Very clean; and the light is shed Soft through the window-shade. Yesterday I thought: ‘I know
How many of my selves are dead? The ghosts of many haunt me: Lo, The baby in the tiny bed With rockers on, is blanketed And sleeping in the long ago;
Oh! tell me a tale of the airly da… Of the times as they ust to be; 'Piller of Fi-er’ and 'Shakespear… Is a’ most too deep fer me! I want plane facts, and I want pl…
O in the depths of midnight What fancies haunt the brain! When even the sigh of the sleeper Sounds like a sob of pain. A sense of awe and of wonder
