The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar

LYRICS OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER

TWO LITTLE BOOTS

Two little boots all rough an' wo',

Two little boots!

Law, I 's kissed 'em times befo',

Dese little boots!

Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo

Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' "Boo!"

Evah time dey looks at you--

Dese little boots.

Membah de time he put 'em on,

Dese little boots;

Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,

Dese little boots;

Den he tromped de livelong day,

Laffin' in his happy way,

Evaht'ing he had to say,

"My little boots!"

Kickin' de san' de whole day long,

Dem little boots;

Good de cobblah made 'em strong,

Dem little boots!

Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,

I'on had to stan' abuse

W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose,

Dese little boots!

Ust to make de ol' cat cry,

Dese little boots;

Den you walked it mighty high,

Proud little boots!

Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,

Eyes a-sayin' "Dis is pride!"

Den de manny-baby stride!

You little boots.

Somehow, you don' seem so gay,

Po' little boots,

Sence yo' ownah went erway,

Po' little boots!

Yo' bright tops don' look so red,

Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;

"Goo'-by," whut de baby said;

Deah little boots!

Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,

You little boots?

Dis is all his mammy 's lef',

Two little boots.

Sence huh baby gone an' died.

Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide

Des a little bit inside

Two little boots.

TO THE ROAD

Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,

Who 's for the road?

Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,

Who 's for the road?

Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder,

Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder;

This be your lot till the season grow older;

Who 's for the road?

Up and away in the hush of the morning,

Who 's for the road?

Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning,

Who 's for the road?

Music of warblers so merrily singing,

Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing,

Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging,

These on the road.

Now every house is a hut or a hovel,

Come to the road:

Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel,

But to the road.

Throw off the loads that are bending you double;

Love is for life, only labor is trouble;

Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble:

Come to the road!

A SPRING WOOING

Come on walkin' wid me, Lucy; 't ain't no time to mope erroun'

Wen de sunshine 's shoutin' glory in de sky,

An' de little Johnny-Jump-Ups 's jes' a-springin' f'om de groun',

Den a-lookin' roun' to ax each othah w'y.

Don' you hyeah dem cows a-mooin'? Dat 's dey howdy to de spring;

Ain' dey lookin' most oncommon satisfied?

Hit 's enough to mek a body want to spread dey mouf an' sing

Jes' to see de critters all so spa'klin'-eyed.

W'y dat squir'l dat jes' run past us, ef I did n' know his tricks,

I could swaih he 'd got 'uligion jes' to-day;

An' dem liza'ds slippin' back an' fofe ermong de stones an' sticks

Is a-wigglin' 'cause dey feel so awful gay.

Oh, I see yo' eyes a-shinin' dough you try to mek me b'lieve

Dat you ain' so monst'ous happy 'cause you come;

But I tell you dis hyeah weathah meks it moughty ha'd to 'ceive

Ef a body's soul ain' blin' an' deef an' dumb.

Robin whistlin' ovah yandah ez he buil' his little nes';

Whut you reckon dat he sayin' to his mate?

He's a-sayin' dat he love huh in de wo'ds she know de bes',

An' she lookin' moughty pleased at whut he state.

Now, Miss Lucy, dat ah robin sholy got his sheer o' sense,

An' de hen-bird got huh mothah-wit fu' true;

So I t'ink ef you 'll ixcuse me, fu' I do' mean no erfence,

Dey 's a lesson in dem birds fu' me an' you.

I 's a-buil'in' o' my cabin, an' I 's vines erbove de do'

Fu' to kin' o' gin it sheltah f'om de sun;

Gwine to have a little kitchen wid a reg'lar wooden flo',

An' dey 'll be a back verandy w'en hit 's done.

I 's a-waitin' fu' you, Lucy, tek de 'zample o' de birds,

Dat 's a-lovin' an' a-matin' evahwhaih.

I cain' tell you dat I loves you in de robin's music wo'ds,

But my cabin 's talkin' fu' me ovah thaih!

JOGGIN' ERLONG

De da'kest hour, dey allus say,

Is des' befo' de dawn,

But it's moughty ha'd a-waitin'

W'ere de night goes frownin' on;

An' it's moughty ha'd a-hopin'

W'en de clouds is big an' black,

An' all de t'ings you 's waited fu'

Has failed, er gone to wrack--

But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

Dey 's lots o' knocks you 's got to tek

Befo' yo' journey 's done,

An' dey 's times w'en you 'll be wishin'

Dat de weary race was run;

W'en you want to give up tryin'

An' des' float erpon de wave,

W'en you don't feel no mo' sorrer

Ez you t'ink erbout de grave--

Den, des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

De whup-lash sting a good deal mo'

De back hit 's knowed befo',

An' de burden 's allus heavies'

Whaih hits weight has made a so';

Dey is times w'en tribulation

Seems to git de uppah han'

An' to whip de weary trav'lah

'Twell he ain't got stren'th to stan'--

But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

IN MAY

Oh to have you in May,

To talk with you under the trees,

Dreaming throughout the day,

Drinking the wine-like breeze,

Oh it were sweet to think

That May should be ours again,

Hoping it not, I shrink,

Out of the sight of men.

May brings the flowers to bloom,

It brings the green leaves to the tree,

And the fatally sweet perfume,

Of what you once were to me.

DREAMS

What dreams we have and how they fly

Like rosy clouds across the sky;

Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,

Of love that comes to cheer and bless;

And how they wither, how they fade,

The waning wealth, the jilting jade--

The fame that for a moment gleams,

Then flies forever,--dreams, ah--dreams!

O burning doubt and long regret,

O tears with which our eyes are wet,

Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain,

The somber cloud, the bitter rain,

You were not of those dreams--ah! well,

Your full fruition who can tell?

Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams

Upon our souls, all dreams--ah! dreams.

THE TRYST

De night creep down erlong de lan',

De shadders rise an' shake,

De frog is sta'tin' up his ban',

De cricket is awake;

My wo'k is mos' nigh done, Celes',

To-night I won't be late,

I 's hu'yin' thoo my level bes',

Wait fu' me by de gate.

De mockin'-bird 'll sen' his glee

A-thrillin' thoo and thoo,

I know dat ol' magnolia-tree

Is smellin' des' fu' you;

De jessamine erside de road

Is bloomin' rich an' white,

My hea't 's a-th'obbin' 'cause it knowed

You 'd wait fu' me to-night.

Hit 's lonesome, ain't it, stan'in' thaih

Wid no one nigh to talk?

But ain't dey whispahs in de aih

Erlong de gyahden walk?

Don't somep'n kin' o' call my name,

An' say "he love you bes'"?

Hit 's true, I wants to say de same,

So wait fu' me, Celes'.

Sing somep'n fu' to pass de time,

Outsing de mockin'-bird,

You got de music an' de rhyme,

You beat him wid de word.

I 's comin' now, my wo'k is done,

De hour has come fu' res',

I wants to fly, but only run--

Wait fu' me, deah Celes'.

A PLEA

Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane,

Treat me nice.

Dough my love has tu'ned my brain,

Treat me nice.

I ain't done a t'ing to shame,

Lovahs all ac's jes' de same;

Don't you know we ain't to blame?

Treat me nice!

Cose I know I 's talkin' wild;

Treat me nice;

I cain't talk no bettah, child,

Treat me nice;

Whut a pusson gwine to do,

Wen he come a-cou'tin' you

All a-trimblin' thoo and thoo?

Please be nice.

Reckon I mus' go de paf

Othahs do:

Lovahs lingah, ladies laff;

Mebbe you

Do' mean all the things you say,

An' pu'haps some latah day

W'en I baig you ha'd, you may

Treat me nice!

THE DOVE

Out of the sunshine and out of the heat,

Out of the dust of the grimy street,

A song fluttered down in the form of a dove,

And it bore me a message, the one word--Love!

Ah, I was toiling, and oh, I was sad:

I had forgotten the way to be glad.

Now, smiles for my sadness and for my toil, rest

Since the dove fluttered down to its home in my breast!

A WARM DAY IN WINTER

"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'

W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary?

'Long de stake an' rider

Seen a robin set;

W'y hit 'mence a-thawin',

Groun' is monst'ous wet.

Den you stan' dah wond'rin',

Lookin' skeert an' stary;

I's a right to caper

W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

Missis gone a-drivin',

Mastah gone to shoot;

Ev'ry da'ky lazin'

In de sun to boot.

Qua'tah 's moughty pleasant,

Hangin' 'roun' my Mary;

Cou'tin' boun' to prospah

W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

Cidah look so pu'ty

Po'in' f'om de jug--

Don' you see it's happy?

Hyeah it laffin'--glug?

Now's de time fu' people

Fu' to try an' bury

All dey grief an' sorrer,

W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

SNOWIN'

Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey is snow upon de hill,

An' de little branch's watahs is all glistenin' an' still;

De win' goes roun' de cabin lak a sperrit wan'erin' 'roun'.

An' de chillen shakes an' shivahs as dey listen to de soun'.

Dey is hick'ry in de fiahplace, whah de blaze is risin' high,

But de heat it meks ain't wa'min' up de gray clouds in de sky.

Now an' den I des peep outside, den I hurries to de do',

Lawd a mussy on my body, how I wish it would n't snow!

I kin stan' de hottes' summah, I kin stan' de wettes' fall,

I kin stan' de chilly springtime in de ploughland, but dat's all;

Fu' de ve'y hottes' fiah nevah tells my skin a t'ing,

W'en de snow commence a-flyin', an' de win' begin to sing.

Dey is plenty wood erroun' us, an' I chop an' tote it in,

But de t'oughts dat I 's a t'inkin' while I 's wo'kin' is a sin.

I kin keep f'om downright swahin' all de time I 's on de go,

But my hea't is full o' cuss-wo'ds w'en I's trampin' thoo de snow.

What you say, you Lishy Davis, dat you see a possum's tracks?

Look hyeah, boy, you stop yo' foolin', bring ol' Spot, an' bring de ax.

Is I col'? Go way, now, Mandy, what you t'ink I's made of?--sho,

W'y dis win' is des ez gentle, an' dis ain't no kin' o' snow.

Dis hyeah weathah 's des ez healthy ez de wa'mest summah days.

All you chillen step up lively, pile on wood an' keep a blaze.

What's de use o' gittin' skeery case dey 's snow upon de groun'?

Huh-uh, I 's a reg'lar snowbird ef dey 's any possum 'roun'.

Go on, Spot, don' be so foolish; don' you see de signs o' feet.

What you howlin' fu? Keep still, suh, cose de col' is putty sweet;

But we goin' out on bus'ness, an' hit 's bus'ness o' de kin'

Dat mus' put a dog an' dahky in a happy frame o' min'.

Yes, you 's col'; I know it, Spotty, but you des stay close to me,

An' I 'll mek you hot ez cotton w'en we strikes de happy tree.

No, I don' lak wintah weathah, an' I 'd wush 't uz allus June,

Ef it was n't fu' de trackin' o' de possum an' de coon.

KEEP A SONG UP ON DE WAY

Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy

An' de rain is mighty thick;

Keep a song up on de way.

An' de waters is a rumblin'

On de boulders in de crick,

Keep a song up on de way.

Fu' a bird ercross de road

Is a-singin' lak he knowed

Dat we people did n't daih

Fu' to try de rainy aih

Wid a song up on de way.

What's de use o' gittin' mopy,

Case de weather ain' de bes'!

Keep a song up on de way.

W'en de rain is fallin' ha'des',

Dey 's de longes' times to res'

Keep a song up on de way.

Dough de plough 's a-stan'in' still

Dey 'll be watah fu' de mill,

Rain mus' come ez well ez sun

'Fo' de weathah's wo'k is done,

Keep a song up on de way.

W'y hit's nice to hyeah de showahs

Fallin' down ermong de trees:

Keep a song up on de way.

Ef de birds don' bothah 'bout it,

But go singin' lak dey please,

Keep a song up on de way.

You don' s'pose I's gwine to see

Dem ah fowls do mo' dan me?

No, suh, I 'll des chase dis frown,

An' aldough de rain fall down,

Keep a song up on de way.

THE TURNING OF THE BABIES IN THE BED

Woman's sho' a cur'ous critter, an' dey ain't no doubtin' dat.

She's a mess o' funny capahs f'om huh slippahs to huh hat.

Ef you tries to un'erstan' huh, an' you fails, des' up an' say:

"D' ain't a bit o' use to try to un'erstan' a woman's way."

I don' mean to be complainin', but I 's jes' a-settin' down

Some o' my own obserwations, w'en I cas' my eye eroun'.

Ef you ax me fu' to prove it, I ken do it mighty fine,

Fu' dey ain't no bettah 'zample den dis ve'y wife o' mine.

In de ve'y hea't o' midnight, w'en I 's sleepin' good an' soun',

I kin hyeah a so't o' rustlin' an' somebody movin' 'roun'.

An' I say, "Lize, whut you doin'?" But she frown an' shek huh haid,

"Heish yo' mouf, I's only tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

"Don' you know a chile gits restless, layin' all de night one way?

An' you' got to kind o' 'range him sev'al times befo' de day?

So de little necks won't worry, an' de little backs won't break;

Don' you t'ink case chillun 's chillun dey hain't got no pain an' ache."

So she shakes 'em, an' she twists 'em, an' she tu'ns 'em 'roun' erbout,

'Twell I don' see how de chillun evah keeps f'om hollahin' out.

Den she lif's 'em up head down'ards, so's dey won't git livahgrown,

But dey snoozes des' ez peaceful ez a liza'd on a stone.

W'en hit's mos' nigh time fu' wakin' on de dawn o' jedgment day,

Seems lak I kin hyeah ol' Gab'iel lay his trumpet down an' say,

"Who dat walkin' 'roun' so easy, down on earf ermong de dead?"--

'T will be Lizy up a-tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

THE DANCE

Heel and toe, heel and toe,

That is the song we sing;

Turn to your partner and curtsey low,

Balance and forward and swing.

Corners are draughty and meadows are white,

This is the game for a winter's night.

Hands around, hands around,

Trip it, and not too slow;

Clear is the fiddle and sweet its sound,

Keep the girls' cheeks aglow.

Still let your movements be dainty and light,

This is the game for a winter's night.

Back to back, back to back,

Turn to your place again;

Never let lightness nor nimbleness lack,

Either in maidens or men.

Time hasteth ever, beware of its flight,

Oh, what a game for a winter's night!

Slower now, slower now,

Softer the music sighs;

Look, there are beads on your partner's brow

Though there be light in her eyes.

Lead her away and her grace requite,

So goes the game on a winter's night.

SOLILOQUY OF A TURKEY

Dey 's a so't o' threatenin' feelin' in de blowin' of de breeze,

An' I 's feelin' kin' o' squeamish in de night;

I 's a-walkin' 'roun' a-lookin' at de diffunt style o' trees,

An' a-measurin' dey thickness an' dey height.

Fu' dey 's somep'n mighty 'spicious in de looks de da'kies give,

Ez dey pass me an' my fambly on de groun,'

So it 'curs to me dat lakly, ef I caihs to try an' live,

It concehns me fu' to 'mence to look erroun'.

Dey's a cu'ious kin' o' shivah runnin' up an' down my back,

An' I feel my feddahs rufflin' all de day,

An' my laigs commence to trimble evah blessid step I mek;

W'en I sees a ax, I tu'ns my head away.

Folks is go'gin' me wid goodies, an' dey 's treatin' me wid caih,

An' I 's fat in spite of all dat I kin do.

I 's mistrus'ful of de kin'ness dat's erroun' me evahwhaih,

Fu' it 's jes' too good, an' frequent, to be true.

Snow 's a-fallin' on de medders, all erroun' me now is white,

But I 's still kep' on a-roostin' on de fence;

Isham comes an' feels my breas'bone, an' he hefted me las' night,

An' he 's gone erroun' a-grinnin' evah sence.

'T ain't de snow dat meks me shivah; 't ain't de col' dat meks me

shake;

'T ain't de wintah-time itse'f dat's 'fectin' me;

But I t'ink de time is comin', an' I 'd bettah mek a break,

Fu' to set wid Mistah Possum in his tree.

Wen you hyeah de da'kies singin', an' de quahtahs all is gay,

'T ain't de time fu' birds lak me to be 'erroun';

Wen de hick'ry chip is flyin', an' de log 's been ca'ied erway,

Den hit's dang'ous to be roostin' nigh he groun'.

Grin on, Isham! Sing on, da'kies! But I flop my wings an' go

Fu' de sheltah of de ve'y highest tree,

Fu' dey 's too much close ertention--an' dey's too much fallin' snow--

An' it's too nigh Chris'mus mo'nin' now fu' me.

FISHING

Wen I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black,

Dey's a kin' o' wa'nin' shivah goes a-scootin' down my back;

Den I says to my ol' ooman ez I watches down de lane,

"Don't you so't o' reckon, Lizy, dat we gwine to have some rain?"

"Go on, man," my Lizy answah, "you cain't fool me, not a bit,

I don't see no rain a-comin', ef you's wishin' fu' it, quit;

Case de mo' you t'ink erbout it, an de mo' you pray an' wish,

W'y de rain stay 'way de longah, spechul ef you wants to fish."

But I see huh pat de skillet, an' I see huh cas' huh eye

Wid a kin' o' anxious motion to'ds de da'kness in de sky;

An' I knows whut she 's a-t'inkin', dough she tries so ha'd to hide.

She 's a-sayin', "Would n't catfish now tas'e monst'ous bully, fried?"

Den de clouds git black an' blackah, an' de thundah 'mence to roll,

An' de rain, it 'mence a-fallin'. Oh, I's happy, bless my soul!

Ez I look at dat ol' skillet, an' I 'magine I kin see

Jes' a slew o' new-ketched catfish sizzlin' daih fu' huh an' me.

'T ain't no use to go a-ploughin', fu' de groun' 'll be too wet,

So I puts out fu' de big house at a moughty pace, you bet,

An' ol' mastah say, "Well, Lishy, ef you t'ink hit 's gwine to rain,

Go on fishin', hit 's de weathah, an' I 'low we cain't complain."

Talk erbout a dahky walkin' wid his haid up in de aih!

Have to feel mine evah minute to be sho' I got it daih;

En' de win' is cuttin' capahs an' a-lashin' thoo de trees,

But de rain keeps on a-singin' blessed songs, lak "Tek yo' ease."

Wid my pole erpon my shouldah an' my wo'm can in my han',

I kin feel de fish a-waitin' w'en I strikes de rivah's san';

Nevah min', you ho'ny scoun'els, need n' swim erroun' an' grin,

I 'll be grinnin' in a minute w'en I 'mence to haul you in.

W'en de fish begin to nibble, an' de co'k begin to jump,

I 's erfeahed dat dey 'll quit bitin', case dey hyeah my hea't go "thump,"

'Twell de co'k go way down undah, an' I raise a awful shout,

Ez a big ol' yallah belly comes a gallivantin' out.

Need n't wriggle, Mistah Catfish, case I got you jes' de same,

You been eatin', I 'll be eatin', an' we needah ain't to blame.

But you need n't feel so lonesome fu' I 's th'owin' out to see

Ef dey ain't some of yo' comrades fu' to keep you company.

Spo't, dis fishin'! now you talkin', w'y dey ain't no kin' to beat;

I don' keer ef I is soakin', laigs, an' back, an' naik, an' feet,

It 's de spo't I 's lookin' aftah. Hit 's de pleasure an' de fun,

Dough I knows dat Lizy 's waitin' wid de skillet w'en I's done.

A PLANTATION PORTRAIT

Hain't you see my Mandy Lou,

Is it true?

Whaih you been f'om day to day,

Whaih, I say?

Dat you say you nevah seen

Dis hyeah queen

Walkin' roun' f'om fiel' to street

Smilin' sweet?

Slendah ez a saplin' tree;

Seems to me

Wen de win' blow f'om de bay

She jes' sway

Lak de reg'lar saplin' do

Ef hit's grew

Straight an' graceful, 'dout a limb,

Sweet an' slim.

Browner den de frush's wing,

An' she sing

Lak he mek his wa'ble ring

In de spring;

But she sholy beat de frush,

Hyeah me, hush:

Wen she sing, huh teef kin show

White ez snow.

Eyes ez big an' roun' an' bright

Ez de light

Whut de moon gives in de prime

Harvest time.

An' huh haih a woolly skein,

Black an' plain.

Hol's you wid a natchul twis'

Close to bliss.

Tendah han's dat mek yo' own

Feel lak stone;

Easy steppin', blessid feet,

Small an' sweet.

Hain't you seen my Mandy Lou,

Is it true?

Look at huh befo' she's gone,

Den pass on!

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET

De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah,

De snow's a-sayin' "Got you" to de groun',

Fu' de wintah weathah 's come widout a-askin' ouah desiah,

An' he 's laughin' in his sleeve at whut he foun';

Fu' dey ain't nobody ready wid dey fuel er dey food,

An' de money bag look timid lak, fu' sho',

So we want ouah Chrismus sermon, but we 'd lak it ef you could

Leave a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

Wha 's de use o' tellin' chillen 'bout a Santy er a Nick,

An' de sto'ies dat a body allus tol'?

When de harf is gray wid ashes an' you has n't got a stick

Fu' to warm dem when dey little toes is col'?

Wha 's de use o' preachin' 'ligion to a man dat's sta'ved to def,

An' a-tellin' him de Mastah will pu'vide?

Ef you want to tech his feelin's, save yo' sermons an' yo' bref,

Tek a little Chrismus basket by yo' side.

'T ain't de time to open Bibles an' to lock yo' cellah do',

'T ain't de time to talk o' bein' good to men;

Ef you want to preach a sermon ez you nevah preached befo',

Preach dat sermon wid a shoat er wid er hen;

Bein' good is heap sight bettah den a-dallyin' wid sin,

An' dey ain't nobody roun' dat knows it mo',

But I t'ink dat 'ligion 's sweeter w'en it kind o' mixes in

Wid a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

THE VALSE

When to sweet music my lady is dancing

My heart to mild frenzy her beauty inspires.

Into my face are her brown eyes a-glancing,

And swift my whole frame thrills with tremulous fires.

Dance, lady, dance, for the moments are fleeting,

Pause not to place yon refractory curl;

Life is for love and the night is for sweeting;

Dreamily, joyously, circle and whirl.

Oh, how those viols are throbbing and pleading;

A prayer is scarce needed in sound of their strain.

Surely and lightly as round you are speeding,

You turn to confusion my heart and my brain.

Dance, lady, dance to the viol's soft calling,

Skip it and trip it as light as the air;

Dance, for the moments like rose leaves are falling,

Strikes, now, the clock from its place on the stair.

Now sinks the melody lower and lower,

The weary musicians scarce seeming to play.

Ah, love, your steps now are slower and slower,

The smile on your face is more sad and less gay.

Dance, lady, dance to the brink of our parting,

My heart and your step must not fail to be light.

Dance! Just a turn--tho' the tear-drop be starting.

Ah--now it is done--so--my lady, good-night!

REPONSE

When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes

The light dies out; my soul replies

With misery of deep-drawn breath,

E'en as it were at war with death.

When Phyllis smiles, her glance beguiles

My heart through love-lit woodland aisles,

And through the silence high and clear,

A wooing warbler's song I hear.

But if she frown, despair comes down,

I put me on my sack-cloth gown;

So frown not, Phyllis, lest I die,

But look on me with smile or sigh.

MY SWEET BROWN GAL

W'en de clouds is hangin' heavy in de sky,

An' de win's 's a-taihin' moughty vig'rous by,

I don' go a-sighin' all erlong de way;

I des' wo'k a-waitin' fu' de close o' day.

Case I knows w'en evenin' draps huh shadders down,

I won' care a smidgeon fu' de weathah's frown;

Let de rain go splashin', let de thundah raih,

Dey 's a happy sheltah, an' I 's goin' daih.

Down in my ol' cabin wa'm ez mammy's toas',

'Taters in de fiah layin' daih to roas';

No one daih to cross me, got no talkin' pal,

But I 's got de comp'ny o' my sweet brown gal.

So I spen's my evenin' listenin' to huh sing,

Lak a blessid angel; how huh voice do ring!

Sweetah den a bluebird flutterin' erroun',

W'en he sees de steamin' o' de new ploughed groun'.

Den I hugs huh closah, closah to my breas'.

Need n't sing, my da'lin', tek you' hones' res'.

Does I mean Malindy, Mandy, Lize er Sal?

No, I means my fiddle-dat's my sweet brown gal!

SPRING FEVER

Grass commence a-comin'

Thoo de thawin' groun',

Evah bird dat whistles

Keepin' noise erroun';

Cain't sleep in de mo'nin',

Case befo' it 's light

Bluebird an' de robin,

Done begun to fight.

Bluebird sass de robin,

Robin sass him back,

Den de bluebird scol' him

'Twell his face is black.

Would n' min' de quoilin'

All de mo'nin' long,

'Cept it wakes me early,

Case hit 's done in song.

Anybody wo'kin'

Wants to sleep ez late

Ez de folks 'll 'low him,

An' I wish to state

(Co'se dis ain't to scattah,

But 'twix' me an' you),

I could stan' de bedclothes,

Kin' o' latah, too.

'T ain't my natchul feelin',

Dis hyeah mopin' spell.

I stan's early risin'

Mos'ly moughty well;

But de ve'y minute,

I feel Ap'il's heat,

Bless yo' soul, de bedclothes

Nevah seemed so sweet.

Mastah, he's a-scol'in',

Case de han's is slow,

All de hosses balkin',

Jes' cain't mek 'em go.

Don' know whut's de mattah,

Hit's a funny t'ing,

Less'n hit 's de fevah

Dat you gits in spring.

THE VISITOR

Little lady at de do',

W'y you stan' dey knockin'?

Nevah seen you ac' befo'

In er way so shockin'.

Don' you know de sin it is

Fu' to git my temper riz

Wen I 's got de rheumatiz

An' my jints is lockin'?

No, ol' Miss ain't sont you down,

Don' you tell no story;

I been seed you hangin' 'roun'

Dis hyeah te'itory.

You des come fu' me to tell

You a tale, an' I ain'--well--

Look hyeah, what is dat I smell?

Steamin' victuals? Glory!

Come in, Missy, how you do?

Come up by de fiah,

I was jokin', chile, wid you;

Bring dat basket nighah.

Huh uh, ain't dat lak ol' Miss,

Sen'in' me a feas' lak dis?

Rheumatiz cain't stop my bliss,

Case I's feelin' spryah.

Chicken meat an' gravy, too,

Hot an' still a-heatin';

Good ol' sweet pertater stew;

Missy b'lieves in treatin'.

Des set down, you blessed chile,

Daddy got to t'ink a while,

Den a story mek you smile

Wen he git thoo eatin'.

SONG

Wintah, summah, snow er shine,

Hit's all de same to me,

Ef only I kin call you mine,

An' keep you by my knee.

Ha'dship, frolic, grief er caih,

Content by night an' day,

Ef only I kin see you whaih

You wait beside de way.

Livin', dyin', smiles er teahs,

My soul will still be free,

Ef only thoo de comin' yeahs

You walk de worl' wid me.

Bird-song, breeze-wail, chune er moan,

What puny t'ings dey 'll be,

Ef w'en I 's seemin' all erlone,

I knows yo' hea't 's wid me.

THE COLORED BAND

Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street,

Don't you people stan' daih starin'; lif yo' feet!

Ain't dey playin'? Hip, hooray!

Stir yo' stumps an' cleah de way,

Fu' de music dat dey mekin' can't be beat.

Oh, de major man's a-swingin' of his stick,

An' de pickaninnies crowdin' roun' him thick;

In his go'geous uniform,

He 's de lightnin' of de sto'm,

An' de little clouds erroun' look mighty slick.

You kin hyeah a fine perfo'mance w'en de white ban's serenade,

An' dey play dey high-toned music mighty sweet,

But hit 's Sousa played in ragtime, an' hit 's Rastus on Parade,

Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street.

Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street

You kin hyeah de ladies all erroun' repeat:

"Ain't dey handsome? Ain't dey gran'?

Ain't dey splendid? Goodness, lan'!

Wy dey's pu'fect f'om dey fo'heads to dey feet!"

An' sich steppin' to de music down de line,

'T ain't de music by itself dat meks it fine,

Hit's de walkin', step by step,

An' de keepin' time wid "Hep,"

Dat it mek a common ditty soun' divine.

Oh, de white ban' play hits music, an' hit 's mighty good to hyeah,

An' it sometimes leaves a ticklin' in yo' feet;

But de hea't goes into bus'ness fu' to he'p erlong de eah,

Wen de colo'ed ban' goes ma'chin' down de street.

TO A VIOLET FOUND ON ALL SAINTS' DAY

Belated wanderer of the ways of spring,

Lost in the chill of grim November rain,

Would I could read the message that you bring

And find in it the antidote for pain.

Does some sad spirit out beyond the day,

Far looking to the hours forever dead,

Send you a tender offering to lay

Upon the grave of us, the living dead?

Or does some brighter spirit, unforlorn,

Send you, my little sister of the wood,

To say to some one on a cloudful morn,

"Life lives through death, my brother, all is good?"

With meditative hearts the others go

The memory of their dead to dress anew.

But, sister mine, bide here that I may know,

Life grows, through death, as beautiful as you.

INSPIRATION

At the golden gate of song

Stood I, knocking all day long,

But the Angel, calm and cold,

Still refused and bade me, "Hold."

Then a breath of soft perfume,

Then a light within the gloom;

Thou, Love, camest to my side,

And the gates flew open wide.

Long I dwelt in this domain,

Knew no sorrow, grief, or pain;

Now you bid me forth and free,

Will you shut these gates on me?

MY LADY OF CASTLE GRAND

Gray is the palace where she dwells,

Grimly the poplars stand

There by the window where she sits,

My Lady of Castle Grand.

There does she bide the livelong day,

Grim as the poplars are,

Ever her gaze goes reaching out,

Steady, but vague and far.

Bright burn the fires in the castle hall,

Brightly the fire-dogs stand;

But cold is the body and cold the heart

Of my Lady of Castle Grand.

Blue are the veins in her lily-white hands,

Blue are the veins in her brow;

Thin is the line of her blue drawn lips,

Who would be haughty now?

Pale is the face at the window-pane,

Pale as the pearl on her breast,

"Roderick, love, wilt come again?

Fares he to east or west?"

The shepherd pipes to the shepherdess,

The bird to his mate in the tree,

And ever she sighs as she hears their song,

"Nobody sings for me."

The scullery maids have swains enow

Who lead them the way of love,

But lonely and loveless their mistress sits

At her window up above.

Loveless and lonely she waits and waits,

The saddest in all the land;

Ah, cruel and lasting is love-blind pride,

My Lady of Castle Grand.

DRIZZLE

Hit 's been drizzlin' an' been sprinklin',

Kin' o' techy all day long.

I ain't wet enough fu' toddy,

I 's too damp to raise a song,

An' de case have set me t'inkin',

Dat dey 's folk des lak de rain,

Dat goes drizzlin' w'en dey's talkin',

An' won't speak out flat an' plain.

Ain't you nevah set an' listened

At a body 'splain his min'?

W'en de t'oughts dey keep on drappin'

Was n't big enough to fin'?

Dem 's whut I call drizzlin' people,

Othahs call 'em mealy mouf,

But de fust name hits me bettah,

Case dey nevah tech a drouf.

Dey kin talk from hyeah to yandah,

An' f'om yandah hyeah ergain,

An' dey don' mek no mo' 'pression,

Den dis powd'ry kin' o' rain.

En yo' min' is dry ez cindahs,

Er a piece o' kindlin' wood,

'T ain't no use a-talkin' to 'em,

Fu' dey drizzle ain't no good.

Gimme folks dat speak out nachul,

Whut 'll say des whut dey mean,

Whut don't set dey wo'ds so skimpy

Dat you got to guess between.

I want talk des' lak de showahs

Whut kin wash de dust erway,

Not dat sprinklin' convusation,

Dat des drizzle all de day.

DE CRITTERS' DANCE

Ain't nobody nevah tol' you not a wo'd a-tall,

'Bout de time dat all de critters gin dey fancy ball?

Some folks tell it in a sto'y, some folks sing de rhyme,

'Peahs to me you ought to hyeahed it, case hit 's ol' ez time.

Well, de critters all was p'osp'ous, now would be de chance

Fu' to tease ol' Pa'son Hedgehog, givin' of a dance;

Case, you know, de critters' preachah was de stric'est kin',

An' he nevah made no 'lowance fu' de frisky min'.

So dey sont dey inbitations, Raccoon writ 'em all,

"Dis hyeah note is to inbite you to de Fancy Ball;

Come erlong an' bring yo' ladies, bring yo' chillun too,

Put on all yo' bibs an' tuckahs, show whut you kin do."

W'en de night come, dey all gathahed in a place dey knowed,

Fu' enough erway f'om people, nigh enough de road,

All de critters had ersponded, Hop-Toad up to Baih,

An' I 's hyeah to tell you, Pa'son Hedgehog too, was daih.

Well, dey talked an' made dey 'bejunce, des lak critters do,

An' dey walked an' p'omenaded 'roun' an' thoo an' thoo;

Jealous ol' Mis' Fox, she whispah, "See Mis' Wildcat daih,

Ain't hit scan'lous, huh a-comin' wid huh shouldahs baih?"

Ol' man T'utle was n't honin' fu' no dancin' tricks,

So he stayed by ol' Mis' Tu'tle, talkin' politics;

Den de ban' hit 'mence a-playin' critters all to place,

Fou' ercross an' fou' stan' sideways, smilin' face to face.

'Fessah Frog, he play de co'net, Cricket play de fife,

Slews o' Grasshoppahs a-fiddlin' lak to save dey life;

Mistah Crow, 'he call de figgers, settin' in a tree,

Huh, uh! how dose critters sasshayed was a sight to see.

Mistah Possom swing Mis' Rabbit up an' down de flo',

Ol' man Baih, he ain't so nimble, an' it mek him blow;

Raccoon dancin' wid Mis' Squ'il squeeze huh little han',

She say, "Oh, now ain't you awful, quit it, goodness lan'!"

Pa'son Hedgehog groanin' awful at his converts' shines,

'Dough he peepin' thoo his fingahs at dem movin' lines,

'Twell he cain't set still no longah w'en de fiddles sing,

Up he jump, an' bless you, honey, cut de pigeon-wing.

Well, de critters lak to fainted jes' wid dey su'prise.

Sistah Fox, she vowed she was n't gwine to b'lieve huh eyes;

But dey could n't be no 'sputin' 'bout it any mo':

Pa'son Hedgehog was a-cape'in' all erroun' de flo.'

Den dey all jes' capahed scan'lous case dey did n't doubt,

Dat dey still could go to meetin'; who could tu'n 'em out?

So wid dancin' an' uligion, dey was in de fol',

Fu' a-dancin' wid de Pa'son couldn't hu't de soul.

WHEN DEY 'LISTED COLORED SOLDIERS

Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall;

But I listened kin' o' keerless, not a-t'inkin' 'bout it all;

An' on Sunday, too, I noticed, dey was whisp'rin' mighty much,

Stan'in' all erroun' de roadside w'en dey let us out o' chu'ch.

But I did n't t'ink erbout it 'twell de middle of de week,

An' my 'Lias come to see me, an' somehow he could n't speak.

Den I seed all in a minute whut he 'd come to see me for;--

Dey had 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias gwine to wah.

Oh, I hugged him, an' I kissed him, an' I baiged him not to go;

But he tol' me dat his conscience, hit was callin' to him so,

An' he could n't baih to lingah w'en he had a chanst to fight

For de freedom dey had gin him an' de glory of de right.

So he kissed me, an' he lef me, w'en I 'd p'omised to be true;

An' dey put a knapsack on him, an' a coat all colo'ed blue.

So I gin him pap's ol' Bible f'om de bottom of de draw',--

W'en dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

But I t'ought of all de weary miles dat he would have to tramp,

An' I could n't be contented w'en dey tuk him to de camp.

W'y my hea't nigh broke wid grievin' 'twell I seed him on de street;

Den I felt lak I could go an' th'ow my body at his feet.

For his buttons was a-shinin', an' his face was shinin', too,

An' he looked so strong an' mighty in his coat o' sojer blue,

Dat I hollahed, "Step up, manny," dough my th'oat was so' an' raw,--

W'en dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

Ol' Mis' cried w'en mastah lef huh, young Miss mou'ned huh brothah Ned,

An' I did n't know dey feelin's is de ve'y wo'ds dey said

W'en I tol' 'em I was so'y. Dey had done gin up dey all;

But dey only seemed mo' proudah dat dey men had hyeahed de call.

Bofe my mastahs went in gray suits, an' I loved de Yankee blue,

But I t'ought dat I could sorrer for de losin' of 'em too;

But I could n't, for I did n't know de ha'f o' whut I saw,

'Twell dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

Mastah Jack come home all sickly; he was broke for life, dey said;

An' dey lef my po' young mastah some'r's on de roadside,--dead.

W'en de women cried an' mou'ned 'em, I could feel it thoo an' thoo,

For I had a loved un fightin' in de way o' dangah, too.

Den dey tol' me dey had laid him some'r's way down souf to res',

Wid de flag dat he had fit for shinin' daih acrost his breas'.

Well, I cried, but den I reckon dat 's whut Gawd had called him for,

W'en dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

LINCOLN

Hurt was the nation with a mighty wound,

And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.

Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,

And wept the North that could not find relief.

Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:

A minor note swelled in the song of life.

'Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,

But still, unflinching at the right's behest,

Grave Lincoln came, strong handed, from afar,

The mighty Homer of the lyre of war.

'T was he who bade the raging tempest cease,

Wrenched from his harp the harmony of peace,

Muted the strings, that made the discord,--Wrong,

And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.

Oh mighty Master of the mighty lyre,

Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:

Earth learned of thee what Heav'n already knew,

And wrote thee down among her treasured few.

ENCOURAGEMENT

Who dat knockin' at de do'?

Why, Ike Johnson,--yes, fu' sho!

Come in, Ike. I 's mighty glad

You come down. I t'ought you 's mad

At me 'bout de othah night,

An' was stayin' 'way fu' spite.

Say, now, was you mad fu' true

Wen I kin' o' laughed at you?

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f.

'T ain't no use a-lookin' sad,

An' a-mekin' out you 's mad;

Ef you 's gwine to be so glum,

Wondah why you evah come.

I don't lak nobidy 'roun'

Dat jes' shet dey mouf an' frown,--

Oh, now, man, don't act a dunce!

Cain't you talk? I tol' you once,

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f.

Wha 'd you come hyeah fu' to-night?

Body 'd t'ink yo' haid ain't right.

I 's done all dat I kin do,--

Dressed perticler, jes' fu' you;

Reckon I 'd 'a' bettah wo'

My ol' ragged calico.

Aftah all de pains I 's took,

Cain't you tell me how I look?

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f.

Bless my soul! I 'mos' fu'got

Tellin' you 'bout Tildy Scott.

Don't you know, come Thu'sday night,

She gwine ma'y Lucius White?

Miss Lize say I allus wuh

Heap sight laklier 'n huh;

An' she 'll git me somep'n new,

Ef I wants to ma'y too.

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f.

I could ma'y in a week,

Ef de man I wants 'ud speak.

Tildy's presents 'll be fine,

But dey would n't ekal mine.

Him whut gits me fu' a wife

'Ll be proud, you bet yo' life.

I 's had offers; some ain't quit;

But I has n't ma'ied yit!

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f.

Ike, I loves you,--yes, I does;

You 's my choice, and allus was.

Laffin' at you ain't no harm.--

Go 'way, dahky, whah 's yo' arm?

Hug me closer--dah, dat 's right!

Was n't you a awful sight,

Havin' me to baig you so?

Now ax whut you want to know,--

Speak up, Ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f!

THE BOOGAH MAN

W'en de evenin' shadders

Come a-glidin' down,

Fallin' black an' heavy

Ovah hill an' town,

Ef you listen keerful,

Keerful ez you kin,

So 's you boun' to notice

Des a drappin' pin;

Den you 'll hyeah a funny

Soun' ercross de lan';

Lay low; dat's de callin'

Of de Boogah Man!

_Woo-oo woo-oo!_

_Hyeah him ez he go erlong de way;_

_Woo-oo, woo-oo!_

_Don' you wish de night 'ud t'un to day?_

_Woo-oo, woo-oo!_

_Hide yo' little peepers 'hind yo' han;_

_Woo-oo, woo-oo!_

_Callin' of de Boogah Man._

W'en de win 's a-shiverin'

Thoo de gloomy lane,

An' dey comes de patterin'

Of de evenin' rain,

W'en de owl's a-hootin',

Out daih in de wood,

Don' you wish, my honey,

Dat you had been good?

'T ain't no use to try to

Snuggle up to Dan;

Bless you, dat's de callin'

Of de Boogah Man!

Ef you loves yo' mammy,

An' you min's yo' pap,

Ef you nevah wriggles

Outen Sukey's lap;

Ef you says yo' "Lay me"

Evah single night

'Fo' dey tucks de kivers

An' puts out de light,

Den de rain kin pattah

Win' blow lak a fan,

But you need n' bothah

'Bout de Boogah Man!

THE WRAITH

Ah me, it is cold and chill

And the fire sobs low in the grate,

While the wind rides by on the hill,

And the logs crack sharp with hate.

And she, she is cold and sad

As ever the sinful are,

But deep in my heart I am glad

For my wound and the coming scar.

Oh, ever the wind rides by

And ever the raindrops grieve;

But a voice like a woman's sigh

Says, "Do you believe, believe?"

Ah, you were warm and sweet,

Sweet as the May days be;

Down did I fall at your feet,

Why did you hearken to me?

Oh, the logs they crack and whine,

And the water drops from the eaves;

But it is not rain but brine

Where my dead darling grieves.

And a wraith sits by my side,

A spectre grim and dark;

Are you gazing here open-eyed

Out to the lifeless dark?

But ever the wind rides on,

And we sit close within;

Out of the face of the dawn,

I and my darling,--sin.

SILENCE

'T is better to sit here beside the sea,

Here on the spray-kissed beach,

In silence, that between such friends as we

Is full of deepest speech.

WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID

Slow de night 's a-fallin',

An' I hyeah de callin,

Out erpon de lonesome hill;

Soun' is moughty dreary,

Solemn-lak an' skeery,

Sayin' fu' to "whip po' Will."

Now hit 's moughty tryin',

Fu' to hyeah dis cryin',

'Deed hit 's mo' den I kin stan';

Sho' wid all our slippin',

Dey 's enough of whippin'

'Dout a bird a'visin' any man.

In de noons o' summah

Dey 's anothah hummah

Sings anothah song instid;

An' his th'oat 's a-swellin'

Wid de joy o' tellin',

But he says dat "Katy did."

Now I feels onsuhtain;

Won't you raise de cu'tain

Ovah all de ti'ngs dat 's hid?

W'y dat feathahed p'isen

Goes erbout a-visin'

Whippin' Will w'en Katy did?

'LONG TO'DS NIGHT

Daih 's a moughty soothin' feelin'

Hits a dahky man,

'Long to'ds night.

W'en de row is mos' nigh ended,

Den he stops to fan,

'Long to'ds night.

De blue smoke f'om his cabin is a-callin' to him "Come;"

He smell de bacon cookin', an' he hyeah de fiah hum;

An' he 'mence to sing, 'dough wo'kin' putty nigh done made him dumb,

'Long to'ds night.

Wid his hoe erpon his shouldah

Den he goes erlong,

'Long to'ds night.

An' he keepin' time a-steppin'

Wid a little song,

'Long to'ds night.

De restin'-time 's a-comin', an' de time to drink an' eat;

A baby's toddlin' to'ds him on hits little dusty feet,

An' a-goin' to'ds his cabin, an' his suppah 's moughty sweet,

'Long to'ds night.

Daih his Ca'line min' de kettle,

Rufus min' de chile,

'Long to'ds night;

An' de sweat roll down his forred,

Mixin' wid his smile,

'Long to'ds night.

He toss his piccaninny, an' he hum a little chune;

De wokin' all is ovah, an' de suppah comin' soon;

De wo'kin' time 's Decembah, but de restin' time is June,

'Long to'ds night.

Dey 's a kin' o' doleful feelin',

Hits a tendah place,

'Long to'ds night;

Dey 's a moughty glory in him

Shinin' thoo his face,

Long to'ds night.

De cabin 's lak de big house, an' de fiah's lak de sun;

His wife look moughty lakly, an' de chile de puttiest one;

W'y, hit 's blessid, jes' a-livin' w'en a body's wo'k is done.

'Long to'ds night.

A GRIEVANCE

Wen de snow 's a-fallin'

An' de win' is col'.

Mammy 'mence a-callin',

Den she 'mence to scol',

"Lucius Lishy Brackett,

Don't you go out do's,

Button up yo' jacket,

Les'n you 'll git froze."

I sit at de windah

Lookin' at de groun',

Nuffin nigh to hindah,

Mammy ain' erroun';

Wish 't she would n' mek me

Set down in dis chaih;

Pshaw, it would n't tek me

Long to git some aih.

So I jump down nimble

Ez a boy kin be,

Dough I 's all a-trimble

Feahed some one 'll see;

Bet in a half a minute

I fly out de do'

An' I 's knee-deep in it,

Dat dah blessed snow.

Den I hyeah a pattah

Come acrost de flo'.

Den dey comes a clattah

At de cabin do';

An' my mammy holler

Spoilin' all my joy,

"Come in f'om dat waller,

Don't I see you, boy?"

Wen de snow 's a-sievin'

Down ez sof ez meal,

Whut 's de use o' livin'

'Cept you got de feel

Of de stuff dat's fallin'

'Roun' an' white an' damp,

'Dout some one a-callin',

"Come in hyeah, you scamp!"

DINAH KNEADING DOUGH

I have seen full many a sight

Born of day or drawn by night:

Sunlight on a silver stream,

Golden lilies all a-dream,

Lofty mountains, bold and proud,

Veiled beneath the lacelike cloud;

But no lovely sight I know

Equals Dinah kneading dough.

Brown arms buried elbow-deep

Their domestic rhythm keep,

As with steady sweep they go

Through the gently yielding dough.

Maids may vaunt their finer charms--

Naught to me like Dinah's arms;

Girls may draw, or paint, or sew--

I love Dinah kneading dough.

Eyes of jet and teeth of pearl,

Hair, some say, too tight a-curl;

But the dainty maid I deem

Very near perfection's dream.

Swift she works, and only flings

Me a glance--the least of things.

And I wonder, does she know

That my heart is in the dough?

TO A CAPTIOUS CRITIC

Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,

Would I might study to be prince of bores,

Right wisely would I rule that dull estate--

But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.

DAT OL' MARE O' MINE

Want to trade me, do you, mistah? Oh, well, now, I reckon not,

W'y you could n't buy my Sukey fu' a thousan' on de spot.

Dat ol' mare o' mine?

Yes, huh coat ah long an' shaggy, an' she ain't no shakes to see;

Dat's a ring-bone, yes, you right, suh, an' she got a on'ry knee,

But dey ain't no use in talkin', she de only hoss fu' me,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

Co'se, I knows dat Suke 's contra'y, an' she moughty ap' to vex;

But you got to mek erlowance fu' de nature of huh sex;

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

Ef you pull her on de lef han'; she plum 'termined to go right,

A cannon could n't skeer huh, but she boun' to tek a fright

At a piece o' common paper, or anyt'ing whut's white,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

Wen my eyes commence to fail me, dough, I trus'es to huh sight,

An' she 'll tote me safe an' hones' on de ve'y da'kes' night,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

Ef I whup huh, she jes' switch huh tail, an' settle to a walk,

Ef I whup huh mo', she shek huh haid, an' lak ez not, she balk.

But huh sense ain't no ways lackin', she do evah t'ing but talk,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

But she gentle ez a lady w'en she know huh beau kin see.

An' she sholy got mo' gumption any day den you or me,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

She's a leetle slow a-goin,' an' she moughty ha'd to sta't,

But we 's gittin' ol' togathah, an' she 's closah to my hea't,

An' I does n't reckon, mistah, dat she 'd sca'cely keer to pa't;

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

W'y I knows de time dat cidah 's kin' o' muddled up my haid,

Ef it had n't been fu' Sukey hyeah, I reckon I 'd been daid;

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

But she got me in de middle o' de road an' tuk me home,

An' she would n't let me wandah, ner she would n't let me roam,

Dat's de kin' o' hoss to tie to w'en you 's seed de cidah's foam,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

You kin talk erbout yo' heaven, you kin talk erbout yo' hell,

Dey is people, dey is hosses, den dey's cattle, den dey's--well--

Dat ol' mare o' mine;

She de beatenes' t'ing dat evah struck de medders o' de town,

An' aldough huh haid ain't fittin' fu' to waih no golden crown,

D' ain't a blessed way fu' Petah fu' to tu'n my Sukey down,

Dat ol' mare o' mine.

IN THE MORNING

'Lias! 'Lias! Bless de Lawd!

Don' you know de day's erbroad?

Ef you don' git up, you scamp,

Dey 'll be trouble in dis camp.

T'ink I gwine to let you sleep

W'ile I meks yo' boa'd an' keep?

Dat's a putty howdy-do--

Don' you hyeah me, 'Lias--you?

Bet ef I come crost dis flo'

You won' fin' no time to sno'.

Daylight all a-shinin' in

Wile you sleep--w'y hit's a sin!

Ain't de can'le-light enough

To bu'n out widout a snuff,

But you go de mo'nin' thoo

Bu'nin' up de daylight too?

'Lias, don' you hyeah me call?

No use tu'nin' to'ds de wall;

I kin hyeah dat mattuss squeak;

Don' you hyeah me w'en I speak?

Dis hyeah clock done struck off six--

Ca'line, bring me dem ah sticks!

Oh, you down, suh; huh, you down--

Look hyeah, don' you daih to frown.

Ma'ch yo'se'f an' wash yo' face,

Don' you splattah all de place;

I got somep'n else to do,

'Sides jes' cleanin' aftah you.

Tek dat comb ah' fix yo' haid--

Looks jes' lak a feddah baid.

Look hyeah, boy, I let you see

You sha' n't roll yo' eyes at me.

Come hyeah; bring me dat ah strap!

Boy, I'll whup you 'twell you drap;

You done felt yo'se'f too strong,

An' you sholy got me wrong.

Set down at dat table thaih;

Jes' you whimpah ef you daih!

Evah mo'nin' on dis place,

Seem lak I mus' lose my grace.

Fol' yo' han's an' bow yo' haid--

Wait ontwell de blessin' 's said;

"Lawd, have mussy on ouah souls--"

(Don' you daih to tech dem rolls--)

"Bless de food we gwine to eat--"

(You set still-I _see_ yo' feet;

You jes' try dat trick agin!)

"Gin us peace an' joy. Amen!"

THE POET

He sang of life, serenely sweet,

With, now and then, a deeper note.

From some high peak, nigh yet remote,

He voiced the world's absorbing beat.

He sang of love when earth was young,

And Love, itself, was in his lays.

But ah, the world, it turned to praise

A jingle in a broken tongue.

A FLORIDA NIGHT

Win' a-blowin' gentle so de san' lay low,

San' a little heavy f'om de rain,

All de pa'ms a-wavin' an' a-weavin' slow,

Sighin' lak a sinnah-soul in pain.

Alligator grinnin' by de ol' lagoon,

Mockin'-bird a-singin' to be big full moon.

'Skeeter go a-skimmin' to his fightin' chune

(Lizy Ann's a-waitin' in de lane!).

Moccasin a-sleepin' in de cyprus swamp;

Need n't wake de gent'man, not fu' me.

Mule, you need n't wake him w'en you switch an' stomp,

Fightin' off a 'skeeter er a flea.

Florida is lovely, she's de fines' lan'

Evah seed de sunlight f'om de Mastah's han',

'Ceptin' fu' de varmints an' huh fleas an' san'

An' de nights w'en Lizy Ann ain' free.

Moon 's a-kinder shaddered on de melon patch;

No one ain't a-watchin' ez I go.

Climbin' of de fence so 's not to click de latch

Meks my gittin' in a little slow.

Watermelon smilin' as it say, "I' s free;"

Alligator boomin', but I let him be,

Florida, oh, Florida 's de lan' fu' me--

(Lizy Ann a-singin' sweet an' low).

DIFFERENCES

My neighbor lives on the hill,

And I in the valley dwell,

My neighbor must look down on me,

Must I look up?--ah, well,

My neighbor lives on the hill,

And I in the valley dwell.

My neighbor reads, and prays,

And I--I laugh, God wot,

And sing like a bird when the grass is green

In my small garden plot;

But ah, he reads and prays,

And I--I laugh, God wot.

His face is a book of woe,

And mine is a song of glee;

A slave he is to the great "They say,"

But I--I am bold and free;

No wonder he smacks of woe,

And I have the tang of glee.

My neighbor thinks me a fool,

"The same to yourself," say I;

"Why take your books and take your prayers,

Give me the open sky;"

My neighbor thinks me a fool,

"The same to yourself," say I.

LONG AGO

De ol' time's gone, de new time's hyeah

Wid all hits fuss an' feddahs;

I done fu'got de joy an' cheah

We knowed all kin's o' weddahs,

I done fu'got each ol'-time hymn

We ust to sing in meetin';

I 's leahned de prah's, so neat an' trim,

De preachah keeps us 'peatin'.

Hang a vine by de chimney side,

An' one by de cabin do';

An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,

De day of long ergo.

My youf, hit's gone, yes, long ergo,

An' yit I ain't a-moanin';

Hit 's fu' somet'ings I ust to know

I set to-night a-honin'.

De pallet on de ol' plank flo',

De rain bar'l und' de eaves,

De live oak 'fo' de cabin do',

Whaih de night dove comes an' grieves.

Hang a vine by de chimney side,

An' one by de cabin do';

An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,

De day of long ergo.

I 'd lak a few ol' frien's to-night

To come an' set wid me;

An' let me feel dat ol' delight

I ust to in dey glee.

But hyeah we is, my pipe an' me,

Wid no one else erbout;

We bofe is choked ez choked kin be,

An' bofe 'll soon go out.

Hang a vine by de chimney side,

An' one by de cabin do';

An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,

De day of long ergo.

A PLANTATION MELODY

De trees is bendin' in de sto'm,

De rain done hid de mountain's fo'm,

I 's 'lone an' in distress.

But listen, dah 's a voice I hyeah,

A-sayin' to me, loud an' cleah,

"Lay low in de wildaness."

De lightnin' flash, de bough sway low,

My po' sick hea't is trimblin' so,

It hu'ts my very breas'.

But him dat give de lightnin' powah

Jes' bids me in de tryin' howah

"Lay low in de wildaness."

O brothah, w'en de tempes' beat,

An' w'en yo' weary head an' feet

Can't fin' no place to res',

Jes' 'membah dat de Mastah 's nigh,

An' putty soon you 'll hyeah de cry,

"Lay low in de wildaness."

O sistah, w'en de rain come down,

An' all yo' hopes is 'bout to drown,

Don't trus' de Mastah less.

He smilin' w'en you t'ink he frown,

He ain' gwine let yo' soul sink down--

Lay low in de wildaness.

A SPIRITUAL

De 'cession's stahted on de gospel way,

De Capting is a-drawin' nigh:

Bettah stop a-foolin' an' a-try to pray;