Anonymous Americas Poems

I’M growing old — ‘t is surely so;
And yet how short it seems
Since I was but a sportive child,
Enjoying childish dreams!
...

No one can know the potential,
Of a life that is committed to win;
With courage - the challenge it faces,
To achieve great success in the end!
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If all our life were one broad glare
Of sunlight, clear, unclouded;
If all our path were smooth and fair,
By no soft gloom enshrouded;
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Our flag is proudly floating
On the land and on the main,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
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This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
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There's an empty seat where the old folks meet,
When they offer their evening prayer,
And a look forlorn, for the dear one gone,
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In good King Charles's golden days,
When loyalty no harm meant;
A furious High-Church man I was,
And so I gain'd preferment.
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"Oh where ha'e ye been, Lord Randall, my son!
And where ha'e ye been, my handsome young man!"
"I ha'e been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."
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If I live to be old, for I find I go down,
Let this be my fate: In a country town
May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
...