#Americans
All seemed delighted, though the e… Of course, than were the children.… Much interchange of mirthful compl… The story-teller said _his_ storie… (Like a bad candle) _best_ when th…
Time of crisp and tawny leaves, And of tarnished harvest sheaves, And of dusty grasses—weeds— Thistles, with their tufted seeds Voyaging the Autumn breeze
O the days gone by! O the days go… The apples in the orchard, and the… The chirrup of the robin, and the… As he piped across the meadows swe… When the bloom was on the clover,…
A strange life—strangely passed! We may not read the soul When God has folded up the scroll In death at last. We may not—dare not say of one
This is 'The old Home by the Mil… Although the old mill, roof and si… The old home, though, and old folk… Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychok… Here, Marg’et, fetch the man a ti…
O her eyes are amber-fine— Dark and deep as wells of wine, While her smile is like the noon Splendor of a day of June. If she sorrow—lo! her face
The dawn of the day was dreary, And the lowering clouds o’erhead Wept in a silent sorrow Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; And a wind came out of the eastwar…
Years did I vainly seek the good… Prayed, fasted, and did penance di… Did kneel, with bleeding knees and… And mouth the dust, with ashes on… Yea, still with knotted scourge th…
A barefoot boy! I mark him at his… For May is here once more, and so… His dusty trousers, rolled half to… And his bare ankles grimy, too, as… Cross-hatchings of the nettle, in…
Grand Haven is in Michigan, and i… Of as many rare attractions as our… The fine hotel, the landlord, and… And the dainty-neat completeness o… The touch on the piano in the parl…
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…
They’s nothin’ in the name to stri… A feller more’n common like! 'Taint liable to git no praise Ner nothin’ like it nowadays; An’ yit that name o’ her’n is jest
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…
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…
'Twas the height of the fete when… And quietly stole to the terrace a… Where, pale as the lovers that eve… The moon it … The sight of the stars and the moo…