Written in Quinn Chapel, A. M. E. Church, Ninth and Walnut Streets, Louisville, Ky., Wednesday evening, October 16th, 1907, while Miss Lula E. Johnson was singing "Ave Maria."
There's Heaven above, and night by night, I look right through its gorgeous roof No sun and moons though e'er so bright Avail to stop me; splendour-proof I keep the broods of stars aloof:...
When the hamlet hailed a birth Judy used to cry: When she heard our christening mirth She would kneel and sigh. She was crazed, we knew, and we Humoured her infirmity. ...
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! Her weary hands their labor cease; Good night, poor Martha, - sleep in peace! Toll the bell!
If John marries Mary, and Mary alone, 'Tis a very good match between Mary and John. Should John wed a score, oh, the claws and the scratches! It can't be a match''tis a bundle of matches.
One Easter Mundy, for a spree, To Bradforth, Mary Jane an me, Decided we wod tak a jaunt, An have a dinner wi mi hont; For Mary Jane, aw'd have yo know, Had promised me, some time ago,...
Matilda Jane wor fat an fair, An nobbut just sixteen; Shoo'd ruddy cheeks an reddish hair, An leet blue wor her een. Shoo weighed abaat two hundred pund, Or may be rayther mooar,...
Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours; And bid them dance, and bid them sing; And thou, too, mingle in the ring! Take to thy heart a new delight;...
I am Minerva, the village poetess, Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk, And all the more when "Butch" Weldy Captured me after a brutal hunt....
'Crying!' Of course I am crying, and I guess you would be crying, too, If people were telling such stories as they tell about me, about you. Oh yes, you can laugh if you want to, and smoke as you didn't care how,...
At Wibsey Slack lived modest Jack, No daat yo knew him weel; His cheeks wor red, his een wor black, His limbs wor strong as steel. His curly hair wor black as jet, His spirits gay an glad,...
Above the skirts of yellow clouds, The god-like Sun, arrayed In blinding splendour, swiftly rose, And looked athwart the glade; The sleepy dingo watched him break The bonds that curbed his flight;...
One moment past our bodies cast No shadow on the plain; Now clear and black they stride our track, And we run home again. In morning-hush, each rock and bush Stands hard, and high, and raw:...