#AmericanWriters
By the pool that I see in my drea… I have sat with you time and again… And listened beneath the dank leav… To the sibilant sound of the rain. And the pool, it is silvery bright…
DEY was oncet a awful quoil 'twix… De pot was des a—bilin’ an’ de ski… Dey slurred each othah’s colah an’… W’ile de coal—oil can des gu—gled,… De pot, hit called de skillet des…
AFTER READING ‘LEAD,… Lead gently, Lord, and slow, For oh, my steps are weak, And ever as I go, Some soothing sentence speak;
I’VE a humble little motto That is homely, though it’s true,… Keep a—pluggin’ away. It’s a thing when I’ve an object That I always try to do, —
W’EN de colo’ed ban’ comes ma’chi… Don’t you people stan’ daih starin… Ain’t dey playin’? Hip, hooray! Stir yo’ stumps an’ cleah de way, Fu’ de music dat dey mekin’ can’t…
'T is better to sit here beside th… Here on the spray—kissed beach, In silence, that between such frie… Is full of deepest speech.
DIS is gospel weathah sho’ — Hills is sawt o’ hazy. Meddahs level ez a flo’ Callin’ to de lazy. Sky all white wif streaks o’ blue,
NOT o’er thy dust let there be sp… The gush of maudlin sentiment; Such drift as that is not for thee… Whose life and deeds and songs agr… Sublime in their simplicity.
Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah, Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’; Jes’ 'bout fall—time o’ de yeah W’en de leaves is dry an brown; Tek a dog an’ tek a axe,
Woman’s sho’ a cur’ous critter, an… She’s a mess o’ funny capahs f’om… Ef you tries to un’erstan’ huh, an… 'D’ ain’t a bit o’ use to try to u… I don’ mean to be complainin’, but…
Dey 's a so’t o’ threatenin’ feeli… An’ I 's feelin’ kin’ o’ squeamis… I 's a—walkin’ 'roun’ a—lookin’ at… An’ a—measurin’ dey thickness an’… Fu’ dey 's somep’n mighty 'spiciou…
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’…
MY muvver’s ist the nicest one 'At ever lived wiz folks; She lets you have ze mostes’ fun, An’ laffs at all your jokes. I got a ol’ maid auntie, too,
GOD has his plans, and what if we With our sight be too blind to see Their full fruition; cannot he, Who made it, solve the mystery? One whom we loved has fall’n aslee…
Slow moves the pageant of a climbi… Their footsteps drag far, far belo… And, unprevailing by their utmost… Seem faltering downward from each… No strange, swift—sprung exception…