Anonymous Americas Poems

To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
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"If all the world were paper
And all the sea were ink,
If all the trees were bread and cheese
What would we do for drink?
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The little Man, and tiny Maid,
Who love the Fairies in the glade,
Who see them in the tangled grass
The Gnomes and Brownies, as they pass,
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The other night while we lay musing, and our weary brain confusing o'er the topics of the day,
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I.
O wild kaleidoscopic panorama of jaculatory arms and legs.
The twisting, twining, turning, tussling, throwing, thrusting,
throttling, tugging, thumping, the tightening thews.
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Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint of snow
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IN DAT GREAT GITTIN’-UP MORNIN’

I ’M a gwine to tell you bout de comin’ ob de Saviour,—
Fare you well, Fare you well,
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Now, this is number one,
And the fun has just begun.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.[CHORUS]
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If we knew when friends around us
Closely press to say goodbye
Which among the lips that kiss us
First would 'neath the daisies lie
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Why stands she near the auction stand,
That girl so young and fair;
What brings her to this dismal place,
Why stands she weeping there?
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