#Americans
While skies glint bright with blue… Through clouds that race o’er fiel… And leaves go dancing left and rig… And orchard apples tumble down; While school-girls sweet, in lane…
Here’s his ragged 'roundabout’; Turn the pockets inside out: See; his pen-knife, lost to use, Rusted shut with apple-juice; Here, with marbles, top and string…
SONG [W.S.] With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho… O the shepherd lad He is ne’er so glad
Nothin’ to say, my daughter! Noth… Gyrls that’s in love, I’ve notice… Yer mother did, afore you, when he… Yit here I am, and here you air;… You look lots like yer mother: Pu…
'Mylo Jones’s wife’ was all I heerd, mighty near, last Fall— Visitun relations down T’other side of Morgantown! Mylo Jones’s wife she does
When snow is here, and the trees l… And the knuckled twigs are gloved… When the breath congeals in the dr… And the old pathway to the barn is… When the rooster’s crow is sad to…
Of all the doctors I could cite y… Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes’ t… Count in the Bethel Neighberhood,… And Sifers’ standin’s jes’ as goo… There’s old Doc Wick, and Glenn,…
I put by the half-written poem, While the pen, idly trailed in my… Writes on—, 'Had I words to compl… Who’d read it, or who’d understand… But the little bare feet on the st…
O the old trundle-bed where I sle… What canopied king might not covet… The glory and peace of that slumbe… Like a long, gracious rest in the… The quaint, homely couch, hidden c…
Herr Weiser—! Three-score-years-a… A hale white rose of his country-m… Transplanted here in the Hoosier… And blossomy as his German home— As blossomy and as pure and sweet
The summer winds is sniffin’ round… locus’ trees; And the clover in the pastur is a… And they been a-swiggin’ honey, ab… sly,
'Write me a rhyme of the present t… And the poet took his pen And wrote such lines as the miser… Hide in the hearts of men. He grew enthused, as the poets use…
The harp of the minstrel has never… As sad as the song in his bosom to… For the magical touch of his finge… Can not waken the echoes that brea… But oh! as the smile of the moon m…
A NEW VERSION BY LEE… WHITCOMB RILEY ‘You are old, Father William, and… All the veins in your body were dr… Yet the end of your nose is red as…
He was a Dreamer of the Days: Indolent as a lazy breeze Of midsummer, in idlest ways Lolling about in the shade of tree… The farmer turned—as he passed him…