The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home;
’T is summer, the darkeys are gay;
The corn-top’s ripe, and the meadow’s in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day.
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy and bright;
By-’n’-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door:—
Then my old Kentucky...
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Way down upon de Swanee Ribber,
Far, far away,
Dere ’s wha my heart is turning ebber,
Dere ’s wha de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for de old plantation,
And for de old folks at home.All de world am sad and dreary,
Eberywhere I roam;
Oh,... -
Round de meadows am a-ringing
De darkeys’ mournful song,
While de mocking-bird am singing,
Happy as de day am long.
Where de ivy am a-creeping,
O’er de grassy mound,
Dere old massa am a-sleeping,
Sleeping in de cold, cold ground.Down in de corn-field
Hear dat mournful sound:
All de darkeys... -
It sings to me in sunshine,
It whispers all day long,
My heartache like an echo
Repeats the wistful song:
Only a quaint old love-lilt,
Wherein my life is hid,—
“My body is in Segovia,
But my soul is in Madrid!”I dream, and wake, and wonder,
For dream and day are one,
Alight with vanished faces,
And days... -
I watch her in the corner there,
As, restless, bold, and unafraid,
She slips and floats along the air
Till all her subtile house is made.Her home, her bed, her daily food,
All from that hidden store she draws;
She fashion it and knows it good,
By instinct’s strong and sacred laws.No tenuous threads to weave her nest,...
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Fasten the chamber!
Hide the red key;
Cover the portal,
That eyes may not see.
Get thee to market,
To wedding and prayer;
Labor or revel,
The chamber is there!In comes a stranger—
“Thy pictures how fine,
Titian or Guido,
Whose is the sign?”
Looks he behind them?
Ah! have a care!
“... -
If i were a cloud in heaven,
I would hang over thee;
If I were a star of even,
I ’d rise and set for thee;
For love, life, light, were given
Thy ministers to be.If I were a wind’s low laughter,
I ’d kiss thy hair;
Or a sunbeam coming after,
Lie on thy forehead fair;
For the world and its wide hereafter... -
A week ago to-day, when red-haired Sally
DOWN to the sugar-camp came to see me,
I saw her checked frock coming down the valley,
Far as anybody’s eyes could see.
Now I sit before the camp-fire,
And I can’t see the pine-knots blaze,
Nor Sally’s pretty face a-shining,
Though I hear the good words she says.A week ago to-...
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Put every tiny robe away!
The stitches all were set with tears,
Slow, tender drops of joys; to-day
Their rain would wither hopes or fears:
Bitter enough to daunt the moth
That longs to fret this dainty cloth.The filmy lace, the ribbons blue,
The tracery deft of flower and leaf,
The fairy shapes that bloomed and grew
... -
By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray.These in the robings of glory,
Those in the...