When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day, It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way; An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,...
Since I left the city's heat For this sylvan, cool retreat, High upon the hill-side here Where the air is clean and clear, I have lost the urban ways. Mine are calm and tranquil days,...
Whut time 'd dat clock strike? Nine? No--eight; I didn't think hit was so late. Aer chew! I must 'a' got a cough, I raally b'lieve I did doze off-- Hit's mighty soothin' to de tiah,...
Adown the west a golden glow Sinks burning in the sea, And all the dreams of long ago Come flooding back to me. The past has writ a story strange Upon my aching heart,...
A lilt and a swing, And a ditty to sing, Or ever the night grow old; The wine is within, And I 'm sure 't were a sin For a soldier to choose to be cold, my dear, For a soldier to choose to be cold....
"Sunshine on de medders, Greenness on de way; Dat 's de blessed reason I sing all de day." Look hyeah! Whut you axin'? Whut meks me so merry? 'Spect to see me sighin'...
Across the hills and down the narrow ways, And up the valley where the free winds sweep, The earth is folded in an ermined sleep That mocks the melting mirth of myriad Mays....
I know my love is true, And oh the day is fair. The sky is clear and blue, The flowers are rich of hue, The air I breathe is rare, I have no grief or care; For my own love is true,...
By Mystic's banks I held my dream. (I held my fishing rod as well,) The vision was of dace and bream, A fruitless vision, sooth to tell. But round about the sylvan dell...
As in some dim baronial hall restrained, A prisoner sits, engirt by secret doors And waving tapestries that argue forth Strange passages into the outer air; So in this dimmer room which we call life,...
Home agin, an' home to stay-- Yes, it's nice to be away. Plenty things to do an' see, But the old place seems to me Jest about the proper thing. Mebbe 'ts 'cause the mem'ries cling...
Beyond the years the answer lies, Beyond where brood the grieving skies And Night drops tears. Where Faith rod-chastened smiles to rise And doff its fears,...
"In the fight at Brandywine, Black Samson, a giant negro armed with a scythe, sweeps his way through the red ranks...." C. M. Skinner's "Myths and Legends of Our Own Land."
Standin' at de winder, Feelin' kind o' glum, Listenin' to de raindrops Play de kettle drum, Lookin' crost de medders Swimmin' lak a sea; Lawd 'a' mussy on us, What's de good o' me? ...
The word is writ that he who runs may read. What is the passing breath of earthly fame? But to snatch glory from the hands of blame-- That is to be, to live, to strive indeed....
Caught Susanner whistlin'; well, It's most nigh too good to tell. 'Twould 'a' b'en too good to see Ef it had n't b'en fur me, Comin' up so soft an' sly That she didn' hear me nigh....
By rugged ways and thro' the night We struggle blindly toward the light; And groping, stumbling, ever pray For sight of long delaying day. The cruel thorns beside the road...
By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass, How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass, And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,...