#Americans #Blacks
I don’t believe in 'ristercrats An’ never did, you see; The plain ol’ homelike sorter folk… Is good enough fur me. O’ course, I don’t desire a man
I have no fancy for that ancient c… That makes us masters of our desti… And not our lives, to hold or give… As will directs; I cannot, will n… That men, the subtle worms, who pl…
I KNOW a man With face of tan, But who is ever kind; Whom girls and boys Leave games and toys
LITTLE brown face full of smile… And a baby’s guileless wiles, Liza May, Liza May. Eyes a—peeping thro’ the fence With an interest intense,
Thou arrant robber, Death! Couldst thou not find Some lesser one than he To rob of breath,— Some poorer mind
I GREW a rose within a garden fa… And, tending it with more than lov… I thought how, with the glory of i… I should the darkness of my life i… And, watching, ever smiled to see…
THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS… Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile, You 's enough to dribe me wile. Want a sto’y; jes’ hyeah dat! Whah’ 'll I git a sto’y at?
FOLKS ain’t got no right to cens… Him dat giv’ de squir’ls de bushta… Him dat built de gread big mountai… Him dat made de streets an’ drivew… We is all constructed diff’ent, d’…
AN angel, robed in spotless white… Bent down and kissed the sleeping… Night woke to blush; the sprite wa… Men saw the blush and called it D…
OH, dere’s lots o’ keer an’ troub… In dis world to swaller down; An’ ol’ Sorrer’s purty lively In her way o’ gittin’ roun’. Yet dere’s times when I furgit 'e…
As some rapt gazer on the lowly ea… Looks up to radiant planets, rangi… So I, whose soul doth know thy wo… Look longing up to thee as to a st…
We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs, In dis howlin’ wildaness, Fu’ to speak some words of comfo’t To each othah in distress. An’ we chooses fu’ ouah subjic’
DONE are the toils and the weari… Done is the summons of bugle and d… Softly and sweetly the sky overarc… Shelt’ring a land where Rebellion… Dark were the days of the country’…
When winter covering all the groun… Hides every sign of Spring, sir. However you may look around, Pray what will then you sing, sir? The Spring was here last year I k…
HE scribbles some in prose and ve… And now and then he prints it; He paints a little, —gathers some Of Nature’s gold and mints it. He plays a little, sings a song,
