Music In Camp (John Reuben Thompson Poems)
Two armies covered hill and plain, Where Rappahannock's watersRan deeply crimsoned with the stain Of battle's recent slaughters.The summer clouds lay pitched ...
Two armies covered hill and plain, Where Rappahannock's watersRan deeply crimsoned with the stain Of battle's recent slaughters.The summer clouds lay pitched ...
West Fifty-third was still Hell's Kitchenthe summer I first came to town,Eleventh Avenue was boarded up,the West Side Drive was ...
Once in a time old Johnny Bull Flew in a raging fury,And swore that Jonathan should have No trials, sir, by jury;That ...
WHEN I'm at gran'dad's on the farm, I hear along 'bout six o'clock,Just when I'm feelin' snug an' warm, 'Ho, Bobby, come ...
And this, ladies and gentlemen, whom I am not in factConducting, was his office all those minutes ago,This man you ...
From Camoweal to Windywoe, from Windywoe to Thirstyville,We'll drag the line around the map, along the plain, and up the ...
Thus it happened .... Let me mention, lest I raise an unsought quarrel, This occurred in times long vanished, in ...
WE have other tales for telling, we have other songs to sing, Who have looped the planet's waters in a ...
JUST where the Treasury's marble front Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations; Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont ...
Live or die, but don't poison everything… Well, death's been here for a long time — it has a hell ...
Now bring me out my buckskin suit! My pouch and powder, too!We'll see if seventy-six can shoot As sixteen used ...
His name was Kelly Ingram; he was Alabama's son,And he whistled "Yankee Doodle," as he stood beside his gun;There was ...
Once there was a Pirate Poodle, And he sailed the briny seas From the land of Yankee Doodle Southward to ...
Why that's a doodle bug, my child Who lives alone, remote and wild. His domicile's a hole ...
Germany, your name is Night,Darkening every coast and clime:Even when you show a lightIt is filthy, it's a crime.As our ...
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early; Here's a good place at the corner-I must stand ...
Live or die, but don't poison everything... Well, death's been here for a long time -- it has a hell ...
Give me a cabin in the woods Where not a human soul intrudes; Where I can sit beside a stream ...
I WAS born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of ...
This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung ...
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