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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar, by
+Paul Laurence Dunbar
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar
+
+Author: Paul Laurence Dunbar
+
+Commentator: William Dean Howells
+
+Release Date: May 7, 2006 [EBook #18338]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF DUNBAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Leonard Johnson and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Paul Lawrence Dunbar]
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POEMS
+
+OF
+
+PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
+
+
+
+WITH THE INTRODUCTION TO
+"LYRICS OF LOWLY LIFE"
+
+BY
+
+W. D. HOWELLS
+
+
+
+NEW YORK
+
+DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
+1922
+
+
+Copyright 1895, 1896, 1897, 1898, 1901, 1902, 1903, 1904, 1905
+BY THE CENTURY CO.
+
+Copyright 1897, 1898, 1901, 1902, 1903, 1904, 1905
+BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.
+
+Copyright 1898
+BY THE OUTLOOK CO.
+
+Copyright 1898
+BY J. B. WALKER
+
+Copyright 1903
+BY W. H. GANNETT
+
+Copyright 1896, 1899, 1903, 1905, 1913
+BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
+
+
+PRINTED IN U. S. A.
+
+
+
+DEDICATIONS
+
+
+LYRICS OF LOWLY LIFE
+
+TO
+
+MY MOTHER
+
+
+LYRICS OF THE HEARTHSIDE
+
+TO
+
+ALICE
+
+
+LYRICS OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER
+
+TO
+
+MISS CATHERINE IMPEY
+
+
+LYRICS OF SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
+
+TO
+
+MRS. FRANK CONOVER
+WITH THANKS FOR HER LONG BELIEF
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO LYRICS OF LOWLY LIFE
+
+
+I think I should scarcely trouble the reader with a special appeal in
+behalf of this book, if it had not specially appealed to me for reasons
+apart from the author's race, origin, and condition. The world is too
+old now, and I find myself too much of its mood, to care for the work of
+a poet because he is black, because his father and mother were slaves,
+because he was, before and after he began to write poems, an
+elevator-boy. These facts would certainly attract me to him as a man, if
+I knew him to have a literary ambition, but when it came to his literary
+art, I must judge it irrespective of these facts, and enjoy or endure it
+for what it was in itself.
+
+It seems to me that this was my experience with the poetry of Paul
+Laurence Dunbar when I found it in another form, and in justice to him I
+cannot wish that it should be otherwise with his readers here. Still, it
+will legitimately interest those who like to know the causes, or, if
+these may not be known, the sources, of things, to learn that the father
+and mother of the first poet of his race in our language were negroes
+without admixture of white blood. The father escaped from slavery in
+Kentucky to freedom in Canada, while there was still no hope of freedom
+otherwise; but the mother was freed by the events of the civil war, and
+came North to Ohio, where their son was born at Dayton, and grew up with
+such chances and mischances for mental training as everywhere befall the
+children of the poor. He has told me that his father picked up the trade
+of a plasterer, and when he had taught himself to read, loved chiefly to
+read history. The boy's mother shared his passion for literature, with a
+special love of poetry, and after the father died she struggled on in
+more than the poverty she had shared with him. She could value the
+faculty which her son showed first in prose sketches and attempts at
+fiction, and she was proud of the praise and kindness they won him among
+the people of the town, where he has never been without the warmest and
+kindest friends.
+
+In fact from every part of Ohio and from several cities of the adjoining
+States, there came letters in cordial appreciation of the critical
+recognition which it was my pleasure no less than my duty to offer Paul
+Dunbar's work in another place. It seemed to me a happy omen for him
+that so many people who had known him, or known of him, were glad of a
+stranger's good word; and it was gratifying to see that at home he was
+esteemed for the things he had done rather than because as the son of
+negro slaves he had done them. If a prophet is often without honor in
+his own country, it surely is nothing against him when he has it. In
+this case it deprived me of the glory of a discoverer; but that is
+sometimes a barren joy, and I am always willing to forego it.
+
+What struck me in reading Mr. Dunbar's poetry was what had already
+struck his friends in Ohio and Indiana, in Kentucky and Illinois. They
+had felt, as I felt, that however gifted his race had proven itself in
+music, in oratory, in several of the other arts, here was the first
+instance of an American negro who had evinced innate distinction in
+literature. In my criticism of his book I had alleged Dumas in France,
+and I had forgetfully failed to allege the far greater Pushkin in
+Russia; but these were both mulattoes, who might have been supposed to
+derive their qualities from white blood vastly more artistic than ours,
+and who were the creatures of an environment more favorable to their
+literary development. So far as I could remember, Paul Dunbar was the
+only man of pure African blood and of American civilization to feel the
+negro life aesthetically and express it lyrically. It seemed to me that
+this had come to its most modern consciousness in him, and that his
+brilliant and unique achievement was to have studied the American negro
+objectively, and to have represented him as he found him to be, with
+humor, with sympathy, and yet with what the reader must instinctively
+feel to be entire truthfulness. I said that a race which had come to
+this effect in any member of it, had attained civilization in him, and I
+permitted myself the imaginative prophecy that the hostilities and the
+prejudices which had so long constrained his race were destined to
+vanish in the arts; that these were to be the final proof that God had
+made of one blood all nations of men. I thought his merits positive and
+not comparative; and I held that if his black poems had been written by
+a white man, I should not have found them less admirable. I accepted
+them as an evidence of the essential unity of the human race, which does
+not think or feel, black in one and white in another, but humanly in
+all.
+
+Yet it appeared to me then, and it appears to me now, that there is a
+precious difference of temperament between the races which it would be a
+great pity ever to lose, and that this is best preserved and most
+charmingly suggested by Mr. Dunbar in those pieces of his where he
+studies the moods and traits of his race in its own accent of our
+English. We call such pieces dialect pieces for want of some closer
+phrase, but they are really not dialect so much as delightful personal
+attempts and failures for the written and spoken language. In nothing is
+his essentially refined and delicate art so well shown as in these
+pieces, which, as I ventured to say, described the range between
+appetite and emotion, with certain lifts far beyond and above it, which
+is the range of the race. He reveals in these a finely ironical
+perception of the negro's limitations, with a tenderness for them which
+I think so very rare as to be almost quite new. I should say, perhaps,
+that it was this humorous quality which Mr. Dunbar had added to our
+literature, and it would be this which would most distinguish him, now
+and hereafter. It is something that one feels in nearly all the dialect
+pieces; and I hope that in the present collection he has kept all of
+these in his earlier volume, and added others to them. But the contents
+of this book are wholly of his own choosing, and I do not know how much
+or little he may have preferred the poems in literary English. Some of
+these I thought very good, and even more than very good, but not
+distinctively his contribution to the body of American poetry. What I
+mean is that several people might have written them; but I do not know
+any one else at present who could quite have written the dialect pieces.
+These are divinations and reports of what passes in the hearts and minds
+of a lowly people whose poetry had hitherto been inarticulately
+expressed in music, but now finds, for the first time in our tongue,
+literary interpretation of a very artistic completeness.
+
+I say the event is interesting, but how important it shall be can be
+determined only by Mr. Dunbar's future performance. I cannot undertake
+to prophesy concerning this; but if he should do nothing more than he
+has done, I should feel that he had made the strongest claim for the
+negro in English literature that the negro has yet made. He has at
+least produced something that, however we may critically disagree about
+it, we cannot well refuse to enjoy; in more than one piece he has
+produced a work of art.
+
+W. D. HOWELLS.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX OF TITLES
+
+
+ABSENCE 93
+ACCOUNTABILITY 5
+ADVICE 250
+AFTER A VISIT 42
+AFTER MANY DAYS 267
+AFTER THE QUARREL 40
+AFTER WHILE 53
+ALEXANDER CRUMMELL--DEAD 113
+ALICE 40
+ANCHORED 256
+ANGELINA 138
+ANTE-BELLUM SERMON, AN 13
+APPRECIATION 247
+AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN' TIME 155
+AT CHESHIRE CHEESE 129
+AT LOAFING-HOLT 263
+AT NIGHT 254
+AT SUNSET TIME 263
+AT THE TAVERN 226
+AWAKENING, THE 252
+
+BACK-LOG SONG, A 143
+BALLAD 58
+BALLADE 204
+BANJO SONG, A 20
+BARRIER, THE 99
+BEHIND THE ARRAS 94
+BEIN' BACK HOME 259
+BEYOND THE YEARS 41
+BLACK SAMSON OF BRANDYWINE 205
+BLUE 253
+BOHEMIAN, THE 92
+BOOGAH MAN, THE 185
+BOOKER T. WASHINGTON 209
+BORDER BALLAD, A 48
+BOYS' SUMMER SONG, A 235
+BREAKING THE CHARM 149
+BRIDAL MEASURE, A 97
+BY RUGGED WAYS 215
+BY THE STREAM 50
+
+CABIN TALE, A 153
+CAPTURE, THE 275
+CAREER, A 285
+CHANGE HAS COME, THE 58
+CHANGE, THE 258
+CHANGING TIME 72
+CHASE, THE 258
+CHOICE, A 125
+CHRISTMUS IS A-COMIN' 153
+CHRISTMAS ON THE PLANTATION 137
+CHRISTMAS 269
+CHRISTMAS CAROL 278
+CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG, A 236
+CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART 105
+CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES 261
+COLORED BAND, THE 178
+COLORED SOLDIERS, THE 50
+COLUMBIAN ODE 47
+COMMUNION 110
+COMPARISON 59
+COMPENSATION 256
+CONFESSIONAL 116
+CONFIDENCE, A 73
+CONQUERORS, THE 112
+CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE 31
+COQUETTE CONQUERED, A 62
+CORN-SONG, A 59
+CORN-STALK FIDDLE, THE 16
+CRISIS, THE 111
+CURIOSITY 241
+CURTAIN 42
+
+DANCE, THE 170
+DAT OL' MARE O' MINE 189
+DAWN 65
+DAY 248
+DEACON JONES' GRIEVANCE 39
+DEAD 73
+DEATH 227
+DEATH OF THE FIRST BORN, THE 258
+DEATH SONG, A 142
+DEBT, THE 213
+DE CRITTERS' DANCE 181
+DELINQUENT, THE 64
+DELY 148
+DESERTED PLANTATION, THE 67
+DESPAIR 261
+DE WAY T'INGS COME 225
+DIFFERENCES 192
+DILETTANTE, THE: A MODERN TYPE 49
+DINAH KNEADING DOUGH 188
+DIPLOMACY 238
+DIRGE 66
+DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER 199
+DISAPPOINTED 60
+DISCOVERED 60
+DISCOVERY, THE 251
+DISTINCTION 114
+DISTURBER, THE 131
+DOUGLASS 208
+DOVE, THE 167
+DREAM SONG I 104
+DREAM SONG II 104
+DREAMER, THE 100
+DREAMIN' TOWN 254
+DREAMS 100
+DREAMS 166
+DRIZZLE 180
+DROWSY DAY, A 65
+
+EASY-GOIN' FELLER, AN 49
+ENCOURAGED 238
+ENCOURAGEMENT 184
+END OF THE CHAPTER, THE 101
+EQUIPMENT 276
+ERE SLEEP COMES DOWN TO SOOTHE THE WEARY EYES 3
+EVENING 276
+EXPECTATION 131
+
+FAITH 244
+FAREWELL TO ARCADY 123
+FARM CHILD'S LULLABY, THE 245
+FISHER CHILD'S LULLABY, THE 244
+FISHING 172
+FLORIDA NIGHT, A 191
+FOOLIN' WID DE SEASONS 139
+FOR THE MAN WHO FAILS 118
+FOREST GREETING, THE 237
+FOREVER 240
+FOUNT OF TEARS, THE 224
+FREDERICK DOUGLASS 6
+FROLIC, A 200
+FROM THE PORCH AT RUNNYMEDE 275
+
+GARRET, THE 96
+GOLDEN DAY, A 251
+GOOD-NIGHT 61
+GOURD, THE 107
+GRIEVANCE, A 188
+GROWIN' GRAY 80
+
+HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 119
+HAUNTED OAK, THE 219
+HE HAD HIS DREAM 61
+HER THOUGHT AND HIS 93
+HOPE 247
+HOW LUCY BACKSLID 158
+HOW SHALL I WOO THEE 289
+"HOWDY, HONEY, HOWDY!" 196
+HUNTING SONG 150
+HYMN 66
+HYMN 133
+HYMN, A 98
+
+IF 75
+IONE 31
+IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN 111
+IN AUGUST 130
+IN MAY 166
+IN SUMMER 91
+IN SUMMER TIME 280
+IN THE MORNING 190
+IN THE TENDS OF AKBAR 223
+INSPIRATION 179
+INVITATION TO LOVE 61
+ITCHING HEELS 222
+
+JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 287
+JEALOUS 145
+JILTED 136
+JOGGIN' ERLONG 165
+JOHNNY SPEAKS 235
+JUST WHISTLE A BIT 98
+
+KEEP A-PLUGGIN' AWAY 46
+KEEP A SONG UP ON DE WAY 169
+KIDNAPED 255
+KING IS DEAD, THE 105
+KNIGHT, THE 108
+
+LAPSE, THE 122
+LAWYERS' WAYS, THE 22
+LAZY DAY, THE 249
+LESSON, THE 8
+LETTER, A 151
+LIFE 8
+LIFE'S TRAGEDY 225
+LI'L' GAL 207
+LILY OF THE VALLEY, THE 237
+LIMITATIONS 250
+LINCOLN 184
+LITTLE BROWN BABY 134
+LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET, A 174
+LITTLE LUCY LANDMAN 107
+LIZA MAY 267
+LONESOME 79
+LONG AGO 192
+'LONG TO'DS NIGHT 187
+LONGING 21
+LOOKING-GLASS, THE 206
+LOST DREAM, A 270
+LOVE 103
+LOVE AND GRIEF 102
+LOVE DESPOILED 122
+LOVE LETTER, A 266
+LOVE-SONG 210
+LOVE SONG, A 222
+LOVER AND THE MOON, THE 29
+LOVER'S LANE 132
+LOVE'S APOTHEOSIS 89
+LOVE'S CASTLE 201
+LOVE'S DRAFT 252
+LOVE'S HUMILITY 106
+LOVE'S PHASES 117
+LOVE'S PICTURES 282
+LOVE'S SEASONS 215
+LULLABY 144
+LYRIC, A 288
+
+MADRIGAL, A 287
+MARE RUBRUM 110
+MASTER-PLAYER THE 17
+MASTERS, THE 258
+MEADOW LARK, THE 71
+MELANCHOLIA 54
+MEMORY OF MARTHA, THE 194
+MERRY AUTUMN 56
+MISTY DAY, A 207
+MISAPPREHENSION 117
+MONK'S WALK, THE 209
+MORNING 252
+MORNING SONG OF LOVE 202
+MORTALITY 103
+MY CORN-COB PIPE 129
+MY LADY OF CASTLE GRAND 180
+MY LITTLE MARCH GIRL 120
+MY SORT O' MAN 140
+MY SWEET BROWN GAL 176
+MYSTERY, THE 17
+MYSTIC SEA, THE 91
+MURDERED LOVER, THE 211
+MUSICAL, A 253
+
+NATURE AND ART 52
+NEGRO LOVE SONG, A 49
+NEWS, THE 136
+NIGHT 263
+NIGHT, DIM NIGHT 227
+NIGHT OF LOVE 46
+NODDIN' BY DE FIRE 201
+NOON 226
+NORA: A SERENADE 62
+NOT THEY WHO SOAR 18
+NUTTING SONG 282
+
+OCTOBER 63
+ODE FOR MEMORIAL DAY 22
+ODE TO ETHIOPIA 15
+OLD APPLE-TREE, THE 10
+OLD CABIN, THE 260
+OLD FRONT GATE, THE 199
+OLD HOMESTEAD, THE 283
+OLD MEMORY, AN 284
+OL' TUNES, THE 53
+ON A CLEAN BOOK 203
+ON THE DEATH OF W. C. 284
+ON THE DEDICATION OF DOROTHY HALL 214
+ON THE RIVER 285
+ON THE ROAD 142
+ON THE SEA WALL 115
+ONE LIFE 72
+OPPORTUNITY 242
+OVER THE HILLS 90
+
+PARADOX, THE 89
+PARTED 240
+PARTED 145
+PARTY, THE 83
+PASSION AND LOVE 11
+PATH, THE 21
+PHANTOM KISS, THE 109
+PHILOSOPHY 212
+PHOTOGRAPH, THE 144
+PHYLLIS 74
+PLACE WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS, THE 246
+PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY, THE 241
+PLANTATION PORTRAIT, A 173
+PLANTATION MELODY, A 193
+PLEA, A 167
+POET AND HIS SONG, THE 4
+POET AND THE BABY, THE 114
+POET, THE 191
+POOL, THE 198
+POOR WITHERED ROSE 286
+POSSESSION 198
+POSSUM 141
+POSSUM TROT 147
+PRAYER, A 14
+PRECEDENT 106
+PREFERENCE A 213
+PREMONITION 23
+PREPARATION 67
+PROMETHEUS 117
+PROMISE 12
+PROTEST 133
+PUTTIN' THE BABY AWAY 243
+
+QUILTING, THE 240
+
+RAIN-SONGS 270
+REAL QUESTION, THE 135
+RELIGION 38
+RELUCTANCE 203
+REMEMBERED 121
+RESIGNATION 106
+RESPONSE 175
+RETORT 5
+RETROSPECTION 24
+RIDING TO TOWN 70
+RIGHT TO DIE, THE 94
+RIGHT'S SECURITY 75
+RISING OF THE STORM, THE 8
+RIVALS, THE 27
+RIVER OF RUIN, THE 265
+ROADWAY, A 214
+ROBERT GOULD SHAW 221
+ROSES 221
+ROSES AND PEARLS 270
+
+SAILOR'S SONG, A 92
+SAND-MAN, THE 235
+SCAMP 239
+SECRET, THE 68
+SEEDLING, THE 12
+SHE GAVE ME A ROSE 103
+SHE TOLD HER BEADS 106
+SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 64
+SIGNS OF THE TIMES 77
+SILENCE 186
+SLOW THROUGH THE DARK 211
+SNOWIN' 168
+SOLILOQUY OF A TURKEY 171
+SONG 13
+SONG 178
+SONG, A 248
+SONG, A 271
+SONG OF SUMMER 26
+SONG, THE 76
+SONNET 115
+SPARROW, THE 78
+SPEAKIN' AT DE' COU'THOUSE 205
+SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS 78
+SPELLIN'-BEE, THE 42
+SPIRITUAL, A 194
+SPRING FEVER 176
+SPRING SONG 26
+SPRING WOOING, A 164
+STARRY NIGHT, A 288
+SUMMER NIGHT, A 262
+STIRRUP CUP, THE 125
+SUMMER PASTORAL, A 279
+SUMMER'S NIGHT, A 64
+SUM, THE 114
+SUNSET 9
+SUPPOSE 258
+SYMPATHY 102
+
+TEMPTATION 146
+THANKSGIVING POEM, A 281
+THEN AND NOW 129
+THEOLOGY 106
+THOU ART MY LUTE 109
+TILL THE WIND GETS RIGHT 262
+TIME TO TINKER 'ROUN'! 135
+TO A CAPTIOUS CRITIC 189
+TO A LADY PLAYING THE HARP 116
+TO A DEAD FRIEND 216
+TO A VIOLET FOUND ON ALL SAINTS' DAY 179
+TO AN INGRATE 223
+TO DAN 248
+TO E. H. K. 97
+TO HER 266
+TO J. Q. 238
+TO LOUISE 26
+TO PFRIMMER 277
+TO THE EASTERN SHORE 202
+TO THE MEMORY OF MARY YOUNG 81
+TO THE MIAMI 277
+TO THE ROAD 163
+TO THE SOUTH 216
+TROUBLE IN DE KITCHEN 268
+TRYST, THE 166
+TURNING OF THE BABIES IN THE BED, THE 170
+'TWELL DE NIGHT IS PAS' 253
+TWILIGHT 241
+TWO LITTLE BOOTS 163
+TWO SONGS 19
+
+UNEXPRESSED 25
+UNLUCKY APPLE, THE 251
+UNSUNG HEROES, THE 196
+
+VAGRANTS 119
+VALSE, THE 175
+VENGEANCE IS SWEET 98
+VETERAN, THE 256
+VOICE OF THE BANJO, THE 124
+VISITOR, THE 177
+
+WADING' IN DE CREEK 239
+WAITING 100
+WARM DAY IN WINTER, A 168
+WE WEAR THE MASK 71
+WARRIOR'S PRAYER, THE 123
+WELTSCHMERTZ 220
+W'EN I GITS HOME 195
+WHAT'S THE USE 249
+WHEN A FELLER'S ITCHIN' TO BE SPANKED 264
+WHEN ALL IS DONE 113
+WHEN DE CO'N PONE'S HOT 57
+WHEN DEY 'LISTED COLORED SOLDIERS 182
+WHEN MALINDY SINGS 82
+WHEN SAM'L SINGS 208
+WHEN THE OLD MAN SMOKES 95
+WHEN WINTER DARKENING ALL AROUND 275
+WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID 186
+WHISTLING SAM 156
+WHITTIER 18
+WHY FADES A DREAM? 77
+WIND AND THE SEA, THE 69
+WINTER-SONG 236
+WINTER'S APPROACH 256
+WINTER'S DAY, A 120
+WITH THE LARK 90
+WOOING, THE 55
+WORN OUT 286
+WRAITH, THE 186
+
+YESTERDAY AND TO-MORROW 257
+
+
+
+
+INDEX OF FIRST LINES
+
+
+A bee that was searching for sweets one day 19
+A blue-bell springs upon the ledge 26
+A cloud fell down from the heavens 288
+A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in 8
+A hush is over all the teeming lists 6
+A knock is at her door, but she is weak 73
+A life was mine full of the close concern 103
+A lilt and a swing 226
+A little bird with plumage brown 78
+A little dreaming by the way 114
+A lover whom duty called over the wave 29
+A maiden wept and, as a comforter 11
+A man of low degree was sore oppressed 111
+A song for the unsung heroes who rose in the country's need 196
+A song is but a little thing 4
+A youth went farming up and down 55
+Across the hills and down the narrow ways 120
+Adown the west a golden glow 263
+Ah, Douglass, we have fall'n on evil days 208
+Ah, I have changed, I do not know 270
+Ah, love, my love is like a cry in the night 222
+Ah me, it is cold and chill 186
+Ah, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away 62
+Ah, yes, 't is sweet still to remember 31
+Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day 101
+Ain't it nice to have a mammy 239
+Ain't nobody tol' you not a wo'd a-tall 181
+Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah 77
+All de night long twell de moon goes down 253
+All hot and grimy from the road 224
+Along by the river of ruin 265
+An angel robed in spotless white 65
+An old man planted and dug and tended 60
+An old, worn harp that had been played 17
+As a quiet little seedling 12
+As in some dim baronial hall restrained 94
+As lone I sat one summer's day 122
+As some rapt gazer on the lowly earth 106
+Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust 103
+At the golden gate of song 179
+Aye, lay him in his grave, the old dead year! 105
+
+Back to the breast of thy mother 113
+Because I had loved so deeply 256
+Because you love me I have much achieved 238
+Bedtime's come fu' little boys 144
+Belated wanderer of the ways of spring 179
+Beyond the years the answer lies 41
+Bird of my lady's bower 19
+Bones a-gittin' achy 153
+Break me my bounds, and let me fly 285
+Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk 78
+Bring me the livery of no other man 92
+By Mystic's banks I held my dream 204
+By rugged ways and thro' the night 215
+By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love 198
+By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass 50
+
+Caught Susanner whistlin'; well 149
+Come away to dreamin' town 254
+Come, drink a stirrup cup with me 125
+Come, essay a sprightly measure 97
+Come on walkin' wid me, Lucy; 't ain't no time to mope erroun' 164
+Come to the pane, draw the curtain apart 120
+Come when the nights are bright with stars 61
+Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning 163
+Cover him over with daisies white 258
+
+Daih's a moughty soothin' feelin' 187
+Darling, my darling, my heart is on the wing 202
+Days git wa'm an' wa'mah 239
+De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day 143
+De breeze is blowin' 'cross de bay 145
+De 'cession's stahted on de gospel way 194
+De da'kest hour, dey allus say 165
+De dog go howlin' 'long de road 247
+De night creep down erlong de lan' 166
+De ol' time's gone, de new time's hyeah 192
+De sun hit shine an' de win' hit blow 256
+De times is mighty stirrin' 'mong de people up ouah way 158
+De trees is bendin' in de sto'm 193
+De way t'ings come, hit seems to me 225
+De win' is blowin' wahmah 236
+De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah 174
+Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores 189
+Dear heart, good-night! 23
+Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I'd write you long fo' dis 151
+Deep in my heart that aches with the repression 25
+Dey been speakin' at de cou't-house 205
+Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night 83
+Dey is snow upon the meddahs 168
+Dey is times in life when Nature 57
+Dey was oncet a awful quoil 'twixt de skillet an' de pot 268
+Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall 182
+Dey's a so't o' threatenin' feelin' in de blowin' of de breeze 171
+Dinah stan' befo' de glass 206
+Dis is gospel weathah sho'-- 26
+Do' a-stan'in' on a jar, fiah a-shinin' thoo 196
+Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stitch by stitch 240
+Done are the toils and the wearisome marches 22
+Dream days of fond delight and hours 287
+Dream on, for dreams are sweet 100
+Driftwood gathered here and there 277
+Duck come switchin' 'cross de lot 275
+
+Ef dey's anyt'ing dat riles me 141
+Ef you's only got de powah fe' to blow a little whistle 250
+Eight of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet 243
+Emblem of blasted hope and lost desire 115
+Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes 3
+
+Folks ain't got no right to censuah othah folks about dey habits 5
+Folks is talkin' 'bout de money, 'bout de silvah an' de gold 135
+Four hundred years ago a tangled waste 47
+Fu' de peace o' my eachin' heels, set down 222
+
+God has his plans, and what if we 81
+"Good-bye," I said to my conscience 31
+Goo'-by, Jinks, I got to hump 64
+Good hunting!--aye, good hunting 237
+Good-night, my love, for I have dreamed of thee 93
+Granny's gone a-visitin' 242
+Grass commence a-comin' 176
+Gray are the pages of record 205
+Gray is the palace where she dwells 180
+G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy 82
+
+Hain't you see my Mandy Lou 173
+He had his dream, and all through life 61
+He loved her, and through many years 129
+He sang of life serenely sweet 191
+He scribbles some in prose and verse 49
+Heart of my heart, the day is chill 207
+Heart of the Southland, heed me pleading now 216
+Heel and toe, heel and toe 170
+Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray 80
+Hit's been drizzlin' an' been sprinklin' 180
+Home agin, an' home to stay 259
+How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own? 289
+How sweet the music sounded 284
+How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell 114
+Hurt was the nation with a mighty wound 184
+Hyeah come Caesar Higgins 145
+Hyeah dat singin' in de medders 208
+
+"I am but clay," the sinner plead 114
+I am no priest of crooks nor creeds 38
+I am the mother of sorrows 89
+I be'n down in ole Kentucky 42
+I been t'inkin' 'bout de preachah; whut he said de othah night 212
+I did not know that life could be so sweet 252
+I done got 'uligion, honey, an' I's happy ez a king 146
+I don't believe in 'ristercrats 140
+I grew a rose once more to please mine eyes 13
+I grew a rose within a garden fair 12
+I had not known before 240
+I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I's hyeahd o' people singin' 156
+I have no fancy for that ancient cant 94
+I have seen full many a sight 188
+I held my heart so far from harm 255
+I found you and I lost you 251
+I know a man 235
+I know my love is true 58
+I know what the caged bird feels, alas! 102
+I never shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin 42
+I sit upon the old sea wall 115
+I stand above the city's rush and din 275
+I stood by the shore at the death of day 69
+I think that though the clouds be dark 53
+I was not; now I am--a few days hence 17
+If Death should claim me for her own to-day 210
+If life were but a dream, my Love 75
+If the muse were mine to tempt it 50
+If thro' the sea of night which here surrounds me 256
+If 'twere fair to suppose 258
+If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day 21
+In a small and lonely cabin out of noisy traffic's way 124
+In de dead of night I sometimes 260
+In Life's Red Sea with faith I plant my feet 110
+In the east the morning comes 199
+In the heavy earth the miner 107
+In the forenoon's restful quiet 95
+In the silence of my heart 110
+In this sombre garden close 209
+In the tents of Akbar 223
+In this old garden, fair, I walk to-day 111
+I's a-gittin' weary of de way dat people do 244
+I's boun' to see my gal to-night 142
+I's feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night 202
+It is as if a silver chord 216
+It may be misery not to sing at all 225
+It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu' a mighty gloomy day 137
+It's all a farce,--these tales they tell 56
+It's hot to-day. The bees is buzzin' 279
+It's moughty tiahsome layin' 'roun' 195
+I've a humble little motto 46
+I've always been a faithful man 267
+I've been list'nin' to them lawyers 22
+I've been watchin' of 'em, parson 39
+I've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things 147
+
+Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo' 148
+Just whistle a bit, if the day be dark 98
+
+Key and bar, key and bar 201
+Kiss me, Miami, thou most constant one! 277
+Know you, winds that blow your course 40
+
+Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass 142
+Lead gently, Lord, and slow 98
+Let me close the eyes of my soul 261
+Let those who will stride on their barren roads 214
+'Lias! 'Lias! Bless de Lawd! 190
+Like sea-washed sand upon the shore 202
+Like the blush upon the rose 282
+Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes 134
+Little brown face full of smiles 267
+Little lady at de do' 177
+Long had I grieved at what I deemed abuse 106
+Long since, in sore distress, I heard one pray 123
+Long time ago, we too set out 119
+Long years ago, within a distant clime 104
+Love hath the wings of the butterfly 117
+Love is the light of the world, my dear 231
+Love me. I care not what the circling years 89
+Love used to carry a bow, you know 258
+Lucy done gone back on me 136
+
+Mammy's in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet 241
+Mastah drink his ol' Made'a 213
+Men may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars 129
+Mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two 79
+My cot was down by a cypress grove 8
+My heart to thy heart 13
+My lady love lives far away 288
+My muvver's ist the nicest one 247
+My neighbor lives on the hill 192
+My soul, lost in the music's mist 76
+
+Night, dim night, and it rains, my love, it rains 227
+Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy 90
+Not o'er thy dust let there be spent 18
+No matter what you call it 287
+Not they who soar, but they who plod 18
+Not to the midnight of the gloomy past 214
+
+O li'l' lamb out in de col' 133
+O Lord, the hard-won miles 11
+O Mother Race! to thee I bring 15
+October is the treasurer of the year 63
+Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy 169
+Oh, de grubbin'-hoe's a-rustin' in de co'nah 67
+Oh, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze is sighin' low 207
+Oh, dere's lots o' keer an' trouble 20
+Oh for the breath of the briny deep 92
+Oh, I am hurt to death, my Love 72
+Oh, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal 266
+Oh, I haven't got long to live, for we all 48
+Oh, summer has clothed the earth 91
+Oh the breeze is blowin' balmy 262
+Oh, the day has set me dreaming 107
+Oh, the little bird is rocking in the cradle of the wind 245
+Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes 26
+Oh to have you in May 166
+Oh, what shall I do? I am wholly upset 131
+Oh, who is the Lord of the land of life 268
+Oh, who would be sad tho' the sky be a-graying 236
+Oh, wind of the spring-time, oh, free wind of May 221
+On a summer's day as I sat by a stream 248
+On the wide veranda white 59
+Once Love grew bold and arrogant of air 102
+One night in my room, still and beamless 109
+Our good knight, Ted, girds his broadsword on 108
+Out in de night a sad bird moans 194
+Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing 64
+Out of my heart, one day, I wrote a song 117
+Out of my heart, one treach'rous winter's day 102
+Out of the sunshine and out of the heat 167
+Outside the rain upon the street 253
+Over the hills and the valleys of dreaming 90
+
+Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day 74
+Place this bunch of mignonette 66
+Poor withered rose, she gave it me 286
+Pray, what can dreams avail 104
+Pray why are you so bare, so bare 219
+Prometheus stole from Heaven the sacred fire 117
+
+Ring out, ye bells! 278
+Round the wide earth, from the red field your valour has won 112
+
+Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother 211
+Search thou my heart 116
+See dis pictyah in my han' 144
+Seems lak folks is mighty curus 139
+Seen my lady home las' night 49
+Seen you down at chu'ch las' night 60
+Shadder in de valley 226
+She gave a rose 103
+She sang, and I listened the whole song thro' 121
+She told the story, and the whole world wept 119
+She told her beads with downcast eyes 106
+She wrapped her soul in a lace of lies 240
+Silence, and whirling worlds afar 263
+Silently without my window 54
+Since I left the city's heat 263
+Slow de night's a-fallin' 186
+Slow moves the pageant of a climbing race 211
+So we, who 'we supped the selfsame cup 40
+Some folks t'inks hit's right an' p'opah 201
+Standin' at de winder 253
+Step me now a bridal measure 248
+Step wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle 269
+Storm and strife and stress 227
+Summah night an' sighin' breeze 132
+Summah's nice, wif sun a-shinin' 132
+Summer is de lovin' time 262
+Sunshine on de medders 168
+Sweetest of the flowers a-blooming 237
+Swing yo' lady roun' an' roun' 200
+
+Tek a cool night, good an' cleah 150
+Tell your love where the roses blow 238
+Temples he built, and palaces of air 100
+The air is dark, the sky is gray 65
+The change has come, and Helen sleeps 58
+The cloud looked in at the window 72
+The draft of love was cool and sweet 252
+The gray dawn on the mountain top 248
+The gray of the sea, and the gray of the sky 93
+The lake's dark breast 8
+The lark is silent in his nest 61
+The little bird sits in the nest and sings 67
+The Midnight wooed the Morning-Star 99
+The mist has left the greening plain 252
+The moon begins her stately ride 276
+The moon has left the sky, love 46
+The night is dewy as a maiden's mouth 64
+The November sun invites me 282
+The poor man went to the rich man's doors 106
+The rain streams down like harpstrings from the sky 270
+The river sleeps beneath the sky 9
+The sand-man he's a jolly old fellow 235
+The sky of brightest gray seems dark 59
+The smell of the sea in my nostrils 91
+The snow lies deep upon the ground 105
+The sun has slipped his tether 100
+The sun hath shed its kindly light 281
+The sun is low 285
+The trees bend down along the stream 249
+The wind is out in its rage to-night 244
+The wind told the little leaves to hurry 258
+The word is writ that he who runs may read 209
+The world is a snob, and the man who wins 118
+The young queen Nature, ever sweet and fair 52
+Ther' ain't no use in all this strife 49
+There are no beaten paths to Glory's height 21
+There is a heaven, for ever, day by day 106
+There's a fabulous story 246
+There's a memory keeps a-runnin' 10
+These are the days of elfs and fays 251
+They please me not--these solemn songs 125
+This is the debt I pay 213
+This is to-day, a golden summer's day 223
+This poem must be done to-day 122
+Thou arrant robber, Death! 284
+"Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart 5
+Thou art my lute, by thee I sing 109
+Thou art the soul of a summer's day 271
+Though the winds be dank 71
+Thy tones are silver melted into sound 116
+Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill 261
+'Tis an old deserted homestead 283
+'Tis better to set here beside the sea 186
+'Tis fine to play 235
+To me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath 97
+Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane 167
+'Twas the apple that in Eden 251
+'Twas three an' thirty year ago 27
+'Twixt a smile and a tear 241
+Two little boots all rough an' wo' 163
+
+Uncle John, he makes me tired 73
+Underneath the autumn sky 256
+
+Villain shows his indiscretion 42
+
+Want to trade me, do you, mistah? Oh, well, now, I reckon not 189
+We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs 13
+We wear the mask that grins and lies 71
+W'en daih's chillun in de house 199
+W'en de clouds is hangin' heavy in de sky 176
+W'en de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street 178
+W'en de evenin' shadders 185
+W'en de snow's a-fallin' 188
+W'en I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black 172
+W'en us fellers stomp around, makin' lots o' noise 264
+W'en you full o' worry 250
+What are the things that make life bright? 238
+What dreams we have and how they fly 166
+What if the wind do howl without 75
+What says the wind to the waving trees? 68
+What's the use o' folks a-frownin' 249
+When all is done, and my last word is said 113
+When August days are hot an' dry 130
+When de fiddle gits to singin' out a ol' Vahginny reel 138
+When first of wise old Johnson taught 129
+When I come in f'm de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day 155
+When I was young I longed for Love 98
+When labor is light and the morning is fair 70
+When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes 175
+When storms arise 66
+When summer time has come, and all 280
+When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine 215
+When the corn's all cut and the bright stalks shine 16
+When to sweet music my lady is dancing 175
+When winter covering all the ground 275
+When you and I were young, the days 24
+Who dat knockin' at de do'? 184
+Who say my hea't ain't true to you? 133
+Whose little lady is you, chile 198
+Whut dat you whisperin' keepin' f'om me? 136
+Whut time 'd dat clock strike? 254
+Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile 153
+Why fades a dream? 77
+Why was it that the thunder voice of Fate 221
+Will I have some mo' dat pie? 203
+Win' a-blowin' gentle so de san' lay low 191
+Wintah, summah, snow er shine 178
+Wintah time hit comin' 241
+With sombre mien, the evening gray 123
+With what thou gavest me, O Master 276
+Within a London garret high 96
+Woman's sho' a cur'ous critter, an' dey ain't no doubtin' dat 170
+
+Yes, my ha't 's ez ha'd ez stone 62
+Yesterday I held your hand 257
+You ask why I am sad to-day 220
+You bid me hold my peace 286
+You kin talk about yer anthems 53
+You'll be wonderin' whut's de reason 131
+Your presence like a benison to me 266
+Your spoken words are roses fine and sweet 270
+
+
+
+
+LYRICS OF LOWLY LIFE
+
+
+ERE SLEEP COMES DOWN TO SOOTHE THE WEARY EYES
+
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
+ Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
+ The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
+ Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,
+ And make the waking world a world of lies,--
+ Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
+ That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs,--
+ Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
+
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
+ How all the griefs and heart-aches we have known
+ Come up like pois'nous vapors that arise
+ From some base witch's caldron, when the crone,
+ To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
+ The past which held its share of bitter pain,
+ Whose ghost we prayed that Time might exorcise,
+ Comes up, is lived and suffered o'er again,
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
+
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
+ What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
+ What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
+ Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
+ What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
+ And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
+ That pay the spirit's ceaseless enterprise,
+ Come thronging through the chambers of the brain,
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
+
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
+ Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
+ Through what strange realms and unfamiliar skies
+ Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
+ To lands unspeakable--beyond surmise,
+ Where shapes unknowable to being spring,
+ Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
+ Much wearied with the spirit's journeying,
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
+
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
+ How questioneth the soul that other soul,--
+ The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
+ But self exposes unto self, a scroll
+ Full writ with all life's acts unwise or wise,
+ In characters indelible and known;
+ So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
+ The soul doth view its awful self alone,
+ Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
+
+ When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
+ The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
+ And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
+ For kissing all our passions into calm,
+ Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world's cries,
+ Or seek to probe th' eternal mystery,
+ Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
+ At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
+ When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.
+
+
+THE POET AND HIS SONG
+
+ A song is but a little thing,
+ And yet what joy it is to sing!
+ In hours of toil it gives me zest,
+ And when at eve I long for rest;
+ When cows come home along the bars,
+ And in the fold I hear the bell,
+ As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars,
+ I sing my song, and all is well.
+
+ There are no ears to hear my lays,
+ No lips to lift a word of praise;
+ But still, with faith unfaltering,
+ I live and laugh and love and sing.
+ What matters yon unheeding throng?
+ They cannot feel my spirit's spell,
+ Since life is sweet and love is long,
+ I sing my song, and all is well.
+
+ My days are never days of ease;
+ I till my ground and prune my trees.
+ When ripened gold is all the plain,
+ I put my sickle to the grain.
+ I labor hard, and toil and sweat,
+ While others dream within the dell;
+ But even while my brow is wet,
+ I sing my song, and all is well.
+
+ Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot,
+ My garden makes a desert spot;
+ Sometimes a blight upon the tree
+ Takes all my fruit away from me;
+ And then with throes of bitter pain
+ Rebellious passions rise and swell;
+ But--life is more than fruit or grain,
+ And so I sing, and all is well.
+
+
+RETORT
+
+ "Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart,
+ "Indeed, the greatest of fools thou art,
+ To be led astray by the trick of a tress,
+ By a smiling face or a ribbon smart;"
+ And my heart was in sore distress.
+
+ Then Phyllis came by, and her face was fair,
+ The light gleamed soft on her raven hair;
+ And her lips were blooming a rosy red.
+ Then my heart spoke out with a right bold air:
+ "Thou art worse than a fool, O head!"
+
+
+ACCOUNTABILITY
+
+ Folks ain't got no right to censuah othah folks about dey habits;
+ Him dat giv' de squir'ls de bushtails made de bobtails fu' de rabbits.
+ Him dat built de gread big mountains hollered out de little valleys,
+ Him dat made de streets an' driveways wasn't shamed to make de alleys.
+
+ We is all constructed diff'ent, d'ain't no two of us de same;
+ We cain't he'p ouah likes an' dislikes, ef we'se bad we ain't to blame.
+ Ef we 'se good, we need n't show off, case you bet it ain't ouah doin'
+ We gits into su'ttain channels dat we jes' cain't he'p pu'suin'.
+
+ But we all fits into places dat no othah ones could fill,
+ An' we does the things we has to, big er little, good er ill.
+ John cain't tek de place o' Henry, Su an' Sally ain't alike;
+ Bass ain't nuthin' like a suckah, chub ain't nuthin' like a pike.
+
+ When you come to think about it, how it 's all planned out it 's splendid.
+ Nuthin 's done er evah happens, 'dout hit 's somefin' dat 's intended;
+ Don't keer whut you does, you has to, an' hit sholy beats de dickens,--
+ Viney, go put on de kittle, I got one o' mastah's chickens.
+
+
+FREDERICK DOUGLASS
+
+ A hush is over all the teeming lists,
+ And there is pause, a breath-space in the strife;
+ A spirit brave has passed beyond the mists
+ And vapors that obscure the sun of life.
+ And Ethiopia, with bosom torn,
+ Laments the passing of her noblest born.
+
+ She weeps for him a mother's burning tears--
+ She loved him with a mother's deepest love.
+ He was her champion thro' direful years,
+ And held her weal all other ends above.
+ When Bondage held her bleeding in the dust,
+ He raised her up and whispered, "Hope and Trust."
+
+ For her his voice, a fearless clarion, rung
+ That broke in warning on the ears of men;
+ For her the strong bow of his power he strung,
+ And sent his arrows to the very den
+ Where grim Oppression held his bloody place
+ And gloated o'er the mis'ries of a race.
+
+ And he was no soft-tongued apologist;
+ He spoke straightforward, fearlessly uncowed;
+ The sunlight of his truth dispelled the mist,
+ And set in bold relief each dark hued cloud;
+ To sin and crime he gave their proper hue,
+ And hurled at evil what was evil's due.
+
+ Through good and ill report he cleaved his way.
+ Right onward, with his face set toward the heights,
+ Nor feared to face the foeman's dread array,--
+ The lash of scorn, the sting of petty spites.
+ He dared the lightning in the lightning's track,
+ And answered thunder with his thunder back.
+
+ When men maligned him, and their torrent wrath
+ In furious imprecations o'er him broke,
+ He kept his counsel as he kept his path;
+ 'T was for his race, not for himself he spoke.
+ He knew the import of his Master's call,
+ And felt himself too mighty to be small.
+
+ No miser in the good he held was he,--
+ His kindness followed his horizon's rim.
+ His heart, his talents, and his hands were free
+ To all who truly needed aught of him.
+ Where poverty and ignorance were rife,
+ He gave his bounty as he gave his life.
+
+ The place and cause that first aroused his might
+ Still proved its power until his latest day.
+ In Freedom's lists and for the aid of Right
+ Still in the foremost rank he waged the fray;
+ Wrong lived; his occupation was not gone.
+ He died in action with his armor on!
+
+ We weep for him, but we have touched his hand,
+ And felt the magic of his presence nigh,
+ The current that he sent throughout the land,
+ The kindling spirit of his battle-cry.
+ O'er all that holds us we shall triumph yet,
+ And place our banner where his hopes were set!
+
+ Oh, Douglass, thou hast passed beyond the shore,
+ But still thy voice is ringing o'er the gale!
+ Thou 'st taught thy race how high her hopes may soar,
+ And bade her seek the heights, nor faint, nor fail.
+ She will not fail, she heeds thy stirring cry,
+ She knows thy guardian spirit will be nigh,
+ And, rising from beneath the chast'ning rod,
+ She stretches out her bleeding hands to God!
+
+
+LIFE
+
+ A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,
+ A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,
+ A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
+ And never a laugh but the moans come double;
+ And that is life!
+
+ A crust and a corner that love makes precious,
+ With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;
+ And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,
+ And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;
+ And that is life!
+
+
+THE LESSON
+
+ My cot was down by a cypress grove,
+ And I sat by my window the whole night long,
+ And heard well up from the deep dark wood
+ A mocking-bird's passionate song.
+
+ And I thought of myself so sad and lone,
+ And my life's cold winter that knew no spring;
+ Of my mind so weary and sick and wild,
+ Of my heart too sad to sing.
+
+ But e'en as I listened the mock-bird's song,
+ A thought stole into my saddened heart,
+ And I said, "I can cheer some other soul
+ By a carol's simple art."
+
+ For oft from the darkness of hearts and lives
+ Come songs that brim with joy and light,
+ As out of the gloom of the cypress grove
+ The mocking-bird sings at night.
+
+ So I sang a lay for a brother's ear
+ In a strain to soothe his bleeding heart,
+ And he smiled at the sound of my voice and lyre,
+ Though mine was a feeble art.
+
+ But at his smile I smiled in turn,
+ And into my soul there came a ray:
+ In trying to soothe another's woes
+ Mine own had passed away.
+
+
+THE RISING OF THE STORM
+
+ The lake's dark breast
+ Is all unrest,
+ It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
+ Like a tremulous bird,
+ From its slumber stirred,
+ The moon is a-tilt in the sky.
+
+ From the silent deep
+ The waters sweep,
+ But faint on the cold white stones,
+ And the wavelets fly
+ With a plaintive cry
+ O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.
+
+ And the spray upsprings
+ On its ghost-white wings,
+ And tosses a kiss at the stars;
+ While a water-sprite,
+ In sea-pearls dight,
+ Hums a sea-hymn's solemn bars.
+
+ Far out in the night,
+ On the wavering sight
+ I see a dark hull loom;
+ And its light on high,
+ Like a Cyclops' eye,
+ Shines out through the mist and gloom.
+
+ Now the winds well up
+ From the earth's deep cup,
+ And fall on the sea and shore,
+ And against the pier
+ The waters rear
+ And break with a sullen roar.
+
+ Up comes the gale,
+ And the mist-wrought veil
+ Gives way to the lightning's glare,
+ And the cloud-drifts fall,
+ A sombre pall,
+ O'er water, earth, and air.
+
+ The storm-king flies,
+ His whip he plies,
+ And bellows down the wind.
+ The lightning rash
+ With blinding flash
+ Comes pricking on behind.
+
+ Rise, waters, rise,
+ And taunt the skies
+ With your swift-flitting form.
+ Sweep, wild winds, sweep,
+ And tear the deep
+ To atoms in the storm.
+
+ And the waters leapt,
+ And the wild winds swept,
+ And blew out the moon in the sky,
+ And I laughed with glee,
+ It was joy to me
+ As the storm went raging by!
+
+
+SUNSET
+
+ The river sleeps beneath the sky,
+ And clasps the shadows to its breast;
+ The crescent moon shines dim on high;
+ And in the lately radiant west
+ The gold is fading into gray.
+ Now stills the lark his festive lay,
+ And mourns with me the dying day.
+
+ While in the south the first faint star
+ Lifts to the night its silver face,
+ And twinkles to the moon afar
+ Across the heaven's graying space,
+ Low murmurs reach me from the town,
+ As Day puts on her sombre crown,
+ And shakes her mantle darkly down.
+
+
+THE OLD APPLE-TREE
+
+ There's a memory keeps a-runnin'
+ Through my weary head to-night,
+ An' I see a picture dancin'
+ In the fire-flames' ruddy light;
+ 'Tis the picture of an orchard
+ Wrapped in autumn's purple haze,
+ With the tender light about it
+ That I loved in other days.
+ An' a-standin' in a corner
+ Once again I seem to see
+ The verdant leaves an' branches
+ Of an old apple-tree.
+
+ You perhaps would call it ugly,
+ An' I don't know but it's so,
+ When you look the tree all over
+ Unadorned by memory's glow;
+ For its boughs are gnarled an' crooked,
+ An' its leaves are gettin' thin,
+ An' the apples of its bearin'
+ Would n't fill so large a bin
+ As they used to. But I tell you,
+ When it comes to pleasin' me,
+ It's the dearest in the orchard,--
+ Is that old apple-tree.
+
+ I would hide within its shelter,
+ Settlin' in some cosy nook,
+ Where no calls nor threats could stir me
+ From the pages o' my book.
+ Oh, that quiet, sweet seclusion
+ In its fulness passeth words!
+ It was deeper than the deepest
+ That my sanctum now affords.
+ Why, the jaybirds an' the robins,
+ They was hand in glove with me,
+ As they winked at me an' warbled
+ In that old apple-tree.
+
+ It was on its sturdy branches
+ That in summers long ago
+ I would tie my swing an' dangle
+ In contentment to an' fro,
+ Idly dreamin' childish fancies,
+ Buildin' castles in the air,
+ Makin' o' myself a hero
+ Of romances rich an' rare.
+ I kin shet my eyes an' see it
+ Jest as plain as plain kin be,
+ That same old swing a-danglin'
+ To the old apple-tree.
+
+ There's a rustic seat beneath it
+ That I never kin forget.
+ It's the place where me an' Hallie--
+ Little sweetheart--used to set,
+ When we 'd wander to the orchard
+ So 's no listenin' ones could hear
+ As I whispered sugared nonsense
+ Into her little willin' ear.
+ Now my gray old wife is Hallie,
+ An' I 'm grayer still than she,
+ But I 'll not forget our courtin'
+ 'Neath the old apple-tree.
+
+ Life for us ain't all been summer,
+ But I guess we 'we had our share
+ Of its flittin' joys an' pleasures,
+ An' a sprinklin' of its care.
+ Oft the skies have smiled upon us;
+ Then again we 've seen 'em frown,
+ Though our load was ne'er so heavy
+ That we longed to lay it down.
+ But when death does come a-callin',
+ This my last request shall be,--
+ That they 'll bury me an' Hallie
+ 'Neath the old apple tree.
+
+
+A PRAYER
+
+ O Lord, the hard-won miles
+ Have worn my stumbling feet:
+ Oh, soothe me with thy smiles,
+ And make my life complete.
+
+ The thorns were thick and keen
+ Where'er I trembling trod;
+ The way was long between
+ My wounded feet and God.
+
+ Where healing waters flow
+ Do thou my footsteps lead.
+ My heart is aching so;
+ Thy gracious balm I need.
+
+
+PASSION AND LOVE
+
+ A maiden wept and, as a comforter,
+ Came one who cried, "I love thee," and he seized
+ Her in his arms and kissed her with hot breath,
+ That dried the tears upon her flaming cheeks.
+ While evermore his boldly blazing eye
+ Burned into hers; but she uncomforted
+ Shrank from his arms and only wept the more.
+
+ Then one came and gazed mutely in her face
+ With wide and wistful eyes; but still aloof
+ He held himself; as with a reverent fear,
+ As one who knows some sacred presence nigh.
+ And as she wept he mingled tear with tear,
+ That cheered her soul like dew a dusty flower,--
+ Until she smiled, approached, and touched his hand!
+
+
+THE SEEDLING
+
+ As a quiet little seedling
+ Lay within its darksome bed,
+ To itself it fell a-talking,
+ And this is what it said:
+
+ "I am not so very robust,
+ But I 'll do the best I can;"
+ And the seedling from that moment
+ Its work of life began.
+
+ So it pushed a little leaflet
+ Up into the light of day,
+ To examine the surroundings
+ And show the rest the way.
+
+ The leaflet liked the prospect,
+ So it called its brother, Stem;
+ Then two other leaflets heard it,
+ And quickly followed them.
+
+ To be sure, the haste and hurry
+ Made the seedling sweat and pant;
+ But almost before it knew it
+ It found itself a plant.
+
+ The sunshine poured upon it,
+ And the clouds they gave a shower;
+ And the little plant kept growing
+ Till it found itself a flower.
+
+ Little folks, be like the seedling,
+ Always do the best you can;
+ Every child must share life's labor
+ Just as well as every man.
+
+ And the sun and showers will help you
+ Through the lonesome, struggling hours,
+ Till you raise to light and beauty
+ Virtue's fair, unfading flowers.
+
+
+PROMISE
+
+ I grew a rose within a garden fair,
+ And, tending it with more than loving care,
+ I thought how, with the glory of its bloom,
+ I should the darkness of my life illume;
+ And, watching, ever smiled to see the lusty bud
+ Drink freely in the summer sun to tinct its blood.
+
+ My rose began to open, and its hue
+ Was sweet to me as to it sun and dew;
+ I watched it taking on its ruddy flame
+ Until the day of perfect blooming came,
+ Then hasted I with smiles to find it blushing red--
+ Too late! Some thoughtless child had plucked my rose and fled!
+
+
+FULFILMENT.
+
+ I grew a rose once more to please mine eyes.
+ All things to aid it--dew, sun, wind, fair skies--
+ Were kindly; and to shield it from despoil,
+ I fenced it safely in with grateful toil.
+ No other hand than mine shall pluck this flower, said I,
+ And I was jealous of the bee that hovered nigh.
+ It grew for days; I stood hour after hour
+ To watch the slow unfolding of the flower,
+ And then I did not leave its side at all,
+ Lest some mischance my flower should befall.
+ At last, oh joy! the central petals burst apart.
+ It blossomed--but, alas! a worm was at its heart!
+
+
+SONG
+
+ My heart to thy heart,
+ My hand to thine;
+ My lip to thy lips,
+ Kisses are wine
+ Brewed for the lover in sunshine and shade;
+ Let me drink deep, then, my African maid.
+
+ Lily to lily,
+ Rose unto rose;
+ My love to thy love
+ Tenderly grows.
+ Rend not the oak and the ivy in twain,
+ Nor the swart maid from her swarthier swain.
+
+
+AN ANTE-BELLUM SERMON
+
+ We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs,
+ In dis howlin' wildaness,
+ Fu' to speak some words of comfo't
+ To each othah in distress.
+ An' we chooses fu' ouah subjic'
+ Dis--we'll 'splain it by an' by;
+ "An' de Lawd said, 'Moses, Moses,'
+ An' de man said, 'Hyeah am I.'"
+
+ Now ole Pher'oh, down in Egypt,
+ Was de wuss man evah bo'n,
+ An' he had de Hebrew chillun
+ Down dah wukin' in his co'n;
+ 'T well de Lawd got tiahed o' his foolin',
+ An' sez he: "I' ll let him know--
+ Look hyeah, Moses, go tell Pher'oh
+ Fu' to let dem chillun go."
+
+ "An' ef he refuse to do it,
+ I will make him rue de houah,
+ Fu' I'll empty down on Egypt
+ All de vials of my powah."
+ Yes, he did--an' Pher'oh's ahmy
+ Wasn't wuth a ha'f a dime;
+ Fu' de Lawd will he'p his chillun,
+ You kin trust him evah time.
+
+ An' yo' enemies may 'sail you
+ In de back an' in de front;
+ But de Lawd is all aroun' you,
+ Fu' to ba' de battle's brunt.
+ Dey kin fo'ge yo' chains an' shackles
+ F'om de mountains to de sea;
+ But de Lawd will sen' some Moses
+ Fu' to set his chillun free.
+
+ An' de lan' shall hyeah his thundah,
+ Lak a blas' f'om Gab'el's ho'n,
+ Fu' de Lawd of hosts is mighty
+ When he girds his ahmor on.
+ But fu' feah some one mistakes me,
+ I will pause right hyeah to say,
+ Dat I 'm still a-preachin' ancient,
+ I ain't talkin' 'bout to-day.
+
+ But I tell you, fellah christuns,
+ Things'll happen mighty strange;
+ Now, de Lawd done dis fu' Isrul,
+ An' his ways don't nevah change,
+ An' de love he showed to Isrul
+ Was n't all on Isrul spent;
+ Now don't run an' tell yo' mastahs
+ Dat I's preachin' discontent.
+
+ 'Cause I isn't; I'se a-judgin'
+ Bible people by deir ac's;
+ I 'se a-givin' you de Scriptuah,
+ I 'se a-handin' you de fac's.
+ Cose ole Pher'oh b'lieved in slav'ry,
+ But de Lawd he let him see,
+ Dat de people he put bref in,--
+ Evah mothah's son was free.
+
+ An' dahs othahs thinks lak Pher'oh,
+ But dey calls de Scriptuah liar,
+ Fu' de Bible says "a servant
+ Is a-worthy of his hire."
+ An' you cain't git roun' nor thoo dat,
+ An' you cain't git ovah it,
+ Fu' whatevah place you git in,
+ Dis hyeah Bible too 'll fit.
+
+ So you see de Lawd's intention,
+ Evah sence de worl' began,
+ Was dat His almighty freedom
+ Should belong to evah man,
+ But I think it would be bettah,
+ Ef I'd pause agin to say,
+ Dat I'm talkin' 'bout ouah freedom
+ In a Bibleistic way.
+
+ But de Moses is a-comin',
+ An' he's comin', suah and fas'
+ We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin',
+ We kin hyeah his trumpit blas'.
+ But I want to wa'n you people,
+ Don't you git too brigity;
+ An' don't you git to braggin'
+ 'Bout dese things, you wait an' see.
+
+ But when Moses wif his powah
+ Comes an' sets us chillun free,
+ We will praise de gracious Mastah.
+ Dat has gin us liberty;
+ An' we 'll shout ouah halleluyahs,
+ On dat mighty reck'nin' day,
+ When we 'se reco'nised ez citiz'--
+ Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!
+
+
+ODE TO ETHIOPIA
+
+ O Mother Race! to thee I bring
+ This pledge of faith unwavering,
+ This tribute to thy glory.
+ I know the pangs which thou didst feel,
+ When Slavery crushed thee with its heel,
+ With thy dear blood all gory.
+
+ Sad days were those--ah, sad indeed!
+ But through the land the fruitful seed
+ Of better times was growing.
+ The plant of freedom upward sprung,
+ And spread its leaves so fresh and young--
+ Its blossoms now are blowing.
+
+ On every hand in this fair land,
+ Proud Ethiope's swarthy children stand
+ Beside their fairer neighbor;
+ The forests flee before their stroke,
+ Their hammers ring, their forges smoke,--
+ They stir in honest labour.
+
+ They tread the fields where honour calls;
+ Their voices sound through senate halls
+ In majesty and power.
+ To right they cling; the hymns they sing
+ Up to the skies in beauty ring,
+ And bolder grow each hour.
+
+ Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul;
+ Thy name is writ on Glory's scroll
+ In characters of fire.
+ High 'mid the clouds of Fame's bright sky
+ Thy banner's blazoned folds now fly,
+ And truth shall lift them higher.
+
+ Thou hast the right to noble pride,
+ Whose spotless robes were purified
+ By blood's severe baptism.
+ Upon thy brow the cross was laid,
+ And labour's painful sweat-beads made
+ A consecrating chrism.
+
+ No other race, or white or black,
+ When bound as thou wert, to the rack,
+ So seldom stooped to grieving;
+ No other race, when free again,
+ Forgot the past and proved them men
+ So noble in forgiving.
+
+ Go on and up! Our souls and eyes
+ Shall follow thy continuous rise;
+ Our ears shall list thy story
+ From bards who from thy root shall spring,
+ And proudly tune their lyres to sing
+ Of Ethiopia's glory.
+
+
+THE CORN-STALK FIDDLE
+
+ When the corn 's all cut and the bright stalks shine
+ Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;
+ When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,
+ And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;
+ Then it's heigho! fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,
+ For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ And you take a stalk that is straight and long,
+ With an expert eye to its worthy points,
+ And you think of the bubbling strains of song
+ That are bound between its pithy joints--
+ Then you cut out strings, with a bridge in the middle,
+ With a corn-stalk bow for a corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ Then the strains that grow as you draw the bow
+ O'er the yielding strings with a practised hand!
+ And the music's flow never loud but low
+ Is the concert note of a fairy band.
+ Oh, your dainty songs are a misty riddle
+ To the simple sweets of the corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ When the eve comes on, and our work is done,
+ And the sun drops down with a tender glance,
+ With their hearts all prime for the harmless fun,
+ Come the neighbor girls for the evening's dance,
+ And they wait for the well-known twist and twiddle--
+ More time than tune--from the corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ Then brother Jabez takes the bow,
+ While Ned stands off with Susan Bland,
+ Then Henry stops by Milly Snow,
+ And John takes Nellie Jones's hand,
+ While I pair off with Mandy Biddle,
+ And scrape, scrape, scrape goes the corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ "Salute your partners," comes the call,
+ "All join hands and circle round,"
+ "Grand train back," and "Balance all,"
+ Footsteps lightly spurn the ground.
+ "Take your lady and balance down the middle"
+ To the merry strains of the corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+ So the night goes on and the dance is o'er,
+ And the merry girls are homeward gone,
+ But I see it all in my sleep once more,
+ And I dream till the very break of dawn
+ Of an impish dance on a red-hot griddle
+ To the screech and scrape of a corn-stalk fiddle.
+
+
+THE MASTER-PLAYER
+
+ An old, worn harp that had been played
+ Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
+ Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
+ To play. But each in turn had found
+ No sweet responsiveness of sound.
+
+ Then Love the Master-Player came
+ With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
+ The Harp he took all undismayed,
+ Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
+ And brought forth music sweet and strong.
+
+
+THE MYSTERY
+
+ I was not; now I am--a few days hence
+ I shall not be; I fain would look before
+ And after, but can neither do; some Power
+ Or lack of power says "no" to all I would.
+ I stand upon a wide and sunless plain,
+ Nor chart nor steel to guide my steps aright.
+ Whene'er, o'ercoming fear, I dare to move,
+ I grope without direction and by chance.
+ Some feign to hear a voice and feel a hand
+ That draws them ever upward thro' the gloom.
+ But I--I hear no voice and touch no hand,
+ Tho' oft thro' silence infinite I list,
+ And strain my hearing to supernal sounds;
+ Tho' oft thro' fateful darkness do I reach,
+ And stretch my hand to find that other hand.
+ I question of th' eternal bending skies
+ That seem to neighbor with the novice earth;
+ But they roll on, and daily shut their eyes
+ On me, as I one day shall do on them,
+ And tell me not the secret that I ask.
+
+
+NOT THEY WHO SOAR
+
+ Not they who soar, but they who plod
+ Their rugged way, unhelped, to God
+ Are heroes; they who higher fare,
+ And, flying, fan the upper air,
+ Miss all the toil that hugs the sod.
+ 'Tis they whose backs have felt the rod,
+ Whose feet have pressed the path unshod,
+ May smile upon defeated care,
+ Not they who soar.
+
+ High up there are no thorns to prod,
+ Nor boulders lurking 'neath the clod
+ To turn the keenness of the share,
+ For flight is ever free and rare;
+ But heroes they the soil who 've trod,
+ Not they who soar!
+
+
+WHITTIER
+
+ Not o'er thy dust let there be spent
+ The gush of maudlin sentiment;
+ Such drift as that is not for thee,
+ Whose life and deeds and songs agree,
+ Sublime in their simplicity.
+
+ Nor shall the sorrowing tear be shed.
+ O singer sweet, thou art not dead!
+ In spite of time's malignant chill,
+ With living fire thy songs shall thrill,
+ And men shall say, "He liveth still!"
+
+ Great poets never die, for Earth
+ Doth count their lives of too great worth
+ To lose them from her treasured store;
+ So shalt thou live for evermore--
+ Though far thy form from mortal ken--
+ Deep in the hearts and minds of men.
+
+
+TWO SONGS
+
+ A bee that was searching for sweets one day
+ Through the gate of a rose garden happened to stray.
+ In the heart of a rose he hid away,
+ And forgot in his bliss the light of day,
+ As sipping his honey he buzzed in song;
+ Though day was waning, he lingered long,
+ For the rose was sweet, so sweet.
+
+ A robin sits pluming his ruddy breast,
+ And a madrigal sings to his love in her nest:
+ "Oh, the skies they are blue, the fields are green,
+ And the birds in your nest will soon be seen!"
+ She hangs on his words with a thrill of love,
+ And chirps to him as he sits above
+ For the song is sweet, so sweet.
+
+ A maiden was out on a summer's day
+ With the winds and the waves and the flowers at play;
+ And she met with a youth of gentle air,
+ With the light of the sunshine on his hair.
+ Together they wandered the flowers among;
+ They loved, and loving they lingered long,
+ For to love is sweet, so sweet.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Bird of my lady's bower,
+ Sing her a song;
+ Tell her that every hour,
+ All the day long,
+ Thoughts of her come to me,
+ Filling my brain
+ With the warm ecstasy
+ Of love's refrain.
+
+ Little bird! happy bird!
+ Being so near,
+ Where e'en her slightest word
+ Thou mayest hear,
+ Seeing her glancing eyes,
+ Sheen of her hair,
+ Thou art in paradise,--
+ Would I were there.
+
+ I am so far away,
+ Thou art so near;
+ Plead with her, birdling gay,
+ Plead with my dear.
+ Rich be thy recompense,
+ Fine be thy fee,
+ If through thine eloquence
+ She hearken me.
+
+
+A BANJO SONG
+
+ Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' trouble
+ In dis world to swaller down;
+ An' ol' Sorrer 's purty lively
+ In her way o' gittin' roun'.
+ Yet dere's times when I furgit em,--
+ Aches an' pains an' troubles all,--
+ An' it's when I tek at ebenin'
+ My ol' banjo f'om de wall.
+
+ 'Bout de time dat night is fallin'
+ An' my daily wu'k is done,
+ An' above de shady hilltops
+ I kin see de settin' sun;
+ When de quiet, restful shadders
+ Is beginnin' jes' to fall,--
+ Den I take de little banjo
+ F'om its place upon de wall.
+
+ Den my fam'ly gadders roun' me
+ In de fadin' o' de light,
+ Ez I strike de strings to try 'em
+ Ef dey all is tuned er-right.
+ An' it seems we 're so nigh heaben
+ We kin hyeah de angels sing
+ When de music o' dat banjo
+ Sets my cabin all er-ring.
+
+ An' my wife an' all de othahs,--
+ Male an' female, small an' big,--
+ Even up to gray-haired granny,
+ Seem jes' boun' to do a jig;
+ 'Twell I change de style o' music,
+ Change de movement an' de time,
+ An' de ringin' little banjo
+ Plays an ol' hea't-feelin' hime.
+
+ An' somehow my th'oat gits choky,
+ An' a lump keeps tryin' to rise
+ Lak it wan'ed to ketch de water
+ Dat was flowin' to my eyes;
+ An' I feel dat I could sorter
+ Knock de socks clean off o' sin
+ Ez I hyeah my po' ol' granny
+ Wif huh tremblin' voice jine in.
+
+ Den we all th'ow in our voices
+ Fu' to he'p de chune out too,
+ Lak a big camp-meetin' choiry
+ Tryin' to sing a mou'nah th'oo.
+ An' our th'oahts let out de music,
+ Sweet an' solemn, loud an' free,
+ 'Twell de raftahs o' my cabin
+ Echo wif de melody.
+
+ Oh, de music o' de banjo,
+ Quick an' deb'lish, solemn, slow,
+ Is de greates' joy an' solace
+ Dat a weary slave kin know!
+ So jes' let me hyeah it ringin',
+ Dough de chune be po' an' rough,
+ It's a pleasure; an' de pleasures
+ O' dis life is few enough.
+
+ Now, de blessed little angels
+ Up in heaben, we are told,
+ Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime
+ 'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold.
+ Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelike
+ Ef we 'd hyeah some music fall
+ F'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo,
+ Like dat one upon de wall.
+
+
+LONGING
+
+ If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
+ And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er;
+ I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray,
+ And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.
+
+ If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day,
+ And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old,
+ I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray,
+ Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.
+
+ If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day,
+ And tell me that my longing love had won your own,
+ I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away,
+ And I could give back laughter for the Ocean's moan!
+
+
+THE PATH
+
+ There are no beaten paths to Glory's height,
+ There are no rules to compass greatness known;
+ Each for himself must cleave a path alone,
+ And press his own way forward in the fight.
+ Smooth is the way to ease and calm delight,
+ And soft the road Sloth chooseth for her own;
+ But he who craves the flower of life full-blown,
+ Must struggle up in all his armor dight!
+ What though the burden bear him sorely down
+ And crush to dust the mountain of his pride,
+ Oh, then, with strong heart let him still abide;
+ For rugged is the roadway to renown,
+ Nor may he hope to gain the envied crown,
+ Till he hath thrust the looming rocks aside.
+
+
+THE LAWYERS' WAYS
+
+ I 've been list'nin' to them lawyers
+ In the court house up the street,
+ An' I 've come to the conclusion
+ That I'm most completely beat.
+ Fust one feller riz to argy,
+ An' he boldly waded in
+ As he dressed the tremblin' pris'ner
+ In a coat o' deep-dyed sin.
+
+ Why, he painted him all over
+ In a hue o' blackest crime,
+ An' he smeared his reputation
+ With the thickest kind o' grime,
+ Tell I found myself a-wond'rin',
+ In a misty way and dim,
+ How the Lord had come to fashion
+ Sich an awful man as him.
+
+ Then the other lawyer started,
+ An' with brimmin', tearful eyes,
+ Said his client was a martyr
+ That was brought to sacrifice.
+ An' he give to that same pris'ner
+ Every blessed human grace,
+ Tell I saw the light o' virtue
+ Fairly shinin' from his face.
+
+ Then I own 'at I was puzzled
+ How sich things could rightly be;
+ An' this aggervatin' question
+ Seems to keep a-puzzlin' me.
+ So, will some one please inform me,
+ An' this mystery unroll--
+ How an angel an' a devil
+ Can persess the self-same soul?
+
+
+ODE FOR MEMORIAL DAY
+
+ Done are the toils and the wearisome marches,
+ Done is the summons of bugle and drum.
+ Softly and sweetly the sky over-arches,
+ Shelt'ring a land where Rebellion is dumb.
+ Dark were the days of the country's derangement,
+ Sad were the hours when the conflict was on,
+ But through the gloom of fraternal estrangement
+ God sent his light, and we welcome the dawn.
+ O'er the expanse of our mighty dominions,
+ Sweeping away to the uttermost parts,
+ Peace, the wide-flying, on untiring pinions,
+ Bringeth her message of joy to our hearts.
+
+ Ah, but this joy which our minds cannot measure,
+ What did it cost for our fathers to gain!
+ Bought at the price of the heart's dearest treasure,
+ Born out of travail and sorrow and pain;
+ Born in the battle where fleet Death was flying,
+ Slaying with sabre-stroke bloody and fell;
+ Born where the heroes and martyrs were dying,
+ Torn by the fury of bullet and shell.
+ Ah, but the day is past: silent the rattle,
+ And the confusion that followed the fight.
+ Peace to the heroes who died in the battle,
+ Martyrs to truth and the crowning of Right!
+
+ Out of the blood of a conflict fraternal,
+ Out of the dust and the dimness of death,
+ Burst into blossoms of glory eternal
+ Flowers that sweeten the world with their breath.
+ Flowers of charity, peace, and devotion
+ Bloom in the hearts that are empty of strife;
+ Love that is boundless and broad as the ocean
+ Leaps into beauty and fulness of life.
+ So, with the singing of paeans and chorals,
+ And with the flag flashing high in the sun,
+ Place on the graves of our heroes the laurels
+ Which their unfaltering valor has won!
+
+
+PREMONITION
+
+ Dear heart, good-night!
+ Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing
+ When the world is all so bright,
+ And the sound of song sets the heart a-ringing,
+ Oh, love, it is not right--
+ Not then to say, "Good-night."
+
+ Dear heart, good-night!
+ The late winds in the lake weeds shiver,
+ And the spray flies cold and white.
+ And the voice that sings gives a telltale quiver--
+ "Ah, yes, the world is bright,
+ But, dearest heart, good-night!"
+
+ Dear heart, good-night!
+ And do not longer seek to hold me!
+ For my soul is in affright
+ As the fearful glooms in their pall enfold me.
+ See him who sang how white
+ And still; so, dear, good-night.
+
+ Dear heart, good-night!
+ Thy hand I 'll press no more forever,
+ And mine eyes shall lose the light;
+ For the great white wraith by the winding river
+ Shall check my steps with might.
+ So, dear, good-night, good-night!
+
+
+RETROSPECTION
+
+ When you and I were young, the days
+ Were filled with scent of pink and rose,
+ And full of joy from dawn till close,
+ From morning's mist till evening's haze.
+ And when the robin sung his song
+ The verdant woodland ways along,
+ We whistled louder than he sung.
+ And school was joy, and work was sport
+ For which the hours were all too short,
+ When you and I were young, my boy,
+ When you and I were young.
+
+ When you and I were young, the woods
+ Brimmed bravely o'er with every joy
+ To charm the happy-hearted boy.
+ The quail turned out her timid broods;
+ The prickly copse, a hostess fine,
+ Held high black cups of harmless wine;
+ And low the laden grape-vine swung
+ With beads of night-kissed amethyst
+ Where buzzing lovers held their tryst,
+ When you and I were young, my boy,
+ When you and I were young.
+
+ When you and I were young, the cool
+ And fresh wind fanned our fevered brows
+ When tumbling o'er the scented mows,
+ Or stripping by the dimpling pool,
+ Sedge-fringed about its shimmering face,
+ Save where we 'd worn an ent'ring place.
+ How with our shouts the calm banks rung!
+ How flashed the spray as we plunged in,--
+ Pure gems that never caused a sin!
+ When you and I were young, my boy,
+ When you and I were young.
+
+ When you and I were young, we heard
+ All sounds of Nature with delight,--
+ The whirr of wing in sudden flight,
+ The chirping of the baby-bird.
+ The columbine's red bells were rung;
+ The locust's vested chorus sung;
+ While every wind his zithern strung
+ To high and holy-sounding keys,
+ And played sonatas in the trees--
+ When you and I were young, my boy,
+ When you and I were young.
+
+ When you and I were young, we knew
+ To shout and laugh, to work and play,
+ And night was partner to the day
+ In all our joys. So swift time flew
+ On silent wings that, ere we wist,
+ The fleeting years had fled unmissed;
+ And from our hearts this cry was wrung--
+ To fill with fond regret and tears
+ The days of our remaining years--
+ "When you and I were young, my boy,
+ When you and I were young."
+
+
+UNEXPRESSED
+
+ Deep in my heart that aches with the repression,
+ And strives with plenitude of bitter pain,
+ There lives a thought that clamors for expression,
+ And spends its undelivered force in vain.
+
+ What boots it that some other may have thought it?
+ The right of thoughts' expression is divine;
+ The price of pain I pay for it has bought it,
+ I care not who lays claim to it--'t is mine!
+
+ And yet not mine until it be delivered;
+ The manner of its birth shall prove the test.
+ Alas, alas, my rock of pride is shivered--
+ I beat my brow--the thought still unexpressed.
+
+
+SONG OF SUMMER
+
+ Dis is gospel weathah sho'--
+ Hills is sawt o' hazy.
+ Meddahs level ez a flo'
+ Callin' to de lazy.
+ Sky all white wif streaks o' blue,
+ Sunshine softly gleamin',
+ D'ain't no wuk hit's right to do,
+ Nothin' 's right but dreamin'.
+
+ Dreamin' by de rivah side
+ Wif de watahs glist'nin',
+ Feelin' good an' satisfied
+ Ez you lay a-list'nin'
+ To the little nakid boys
+ Splashin' in de watah,
+ Hollerin' fu' to spress deir joys
+ Jes' lak youngsters ought to.
+
+ Squir'l a-tippin' on his toes,
+ So 's to hide an' view you;
+ Whole flocks o' camp-meetin' crows
+ Shoutin' hallelujah.
+ Peckahwood erpon de tree
+ Tappin' lak a hammah;
+ Jaybird chattin' wif a bee,
+ Tryin' to teach him grammah.
+
+ Breeze is blowin' wif perfume,
+ Jes' enough to tease you;
+ Hollyhocks is all in bloom,
+ Smellin' fu' to please you.
+ Go 'way, folks, an' let me 'lone,
+ Times is gettin' dearah--
+ Summah's settin' on de th'one,
+ An' I 'm a-layin' neah huh!
+
+
+SPRING SONG
+
+ A blue-bell springs upon the ledge,
+ A lark sits singing in the hedge;
+ Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air,
+ And life is brimming everywhere.
+ What lark and breeze and bluebird sing,
+ Is Spring, Spring, Spring!
+
+ No more the air is sharp and cold;
+ The planter wends across the wold,
+ And, glad, beneath the shining sky
+ We wander forth, my love and I.
+ And ever in our hearts doth ring
+ This song of Spring, Spring!
+
+ For life is life and love is love,
+ 'Twixt maid and man or dove and dove.
+ Life may be short, life may be long,
+ But love will come, and to its song
+ Shall this refrain for ever cling
+ Of Spring, Spring, Spring!
+
+
+TO LOUISE
+
+ Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,
+ And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;
+ But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze,
+ And soar in a song to my Lady Louise.
+ A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween,
+ Than any fair duchess, or even a queen.
+ When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose,
+ For she 's the wee lassie who gave me a rose.
+
+ Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled,
+ Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world;
+ Why, then, should not I give the space of an hour
+ To making a song in return for a flower?
+ I have found in my life--it has not been so long--
+ There are too few of flowers--too little of song.
+ So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows,
+ For the dear little lady who gave me the rose.
+
+ I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art,
+ That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart,
+ And led by an impulse no less than divine,
+ Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine.
+ I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild,
+ Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child,
+ Then to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bide
+ In the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride.
+
+ I know not, my wee one, how came you to know
+ Which way to my heart was the right way to go;
+ Unless in your purity, soul-clean and clear,
+ God whispers his messages into your ear.
+ You have now had my song, let me end with a prayer
+ That your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair;
+ That your joys may be many, and absent your woes,
+ O dear little lady who gave me the rose!
+
+
+THE RIVALS
+
+ 'T was three an' thirty year ago,
+ When I was ruther young, you know,
+ I had my last an' only fight
+ About a gal one summer night.
+ 'T was me an' Zekel Johnson; Zeke
+ 'N' me 'd be'n spattin' 'bout a week,
+ Each of us tryin' his best to show
+ That he was Liza Jones's beau.
+ We could n't neither prove the thing,
+ Fur she was fur too sharp to fling
+ One over fur the other one
+ An' by so doin' stop the fun
+ That we chaps did n't have the sense
+ To see she got at our expense,
+ But that's the way a feller does,
+ Fur boys is fools an' allus was.
+ An' when they's females in the game
+ I reckon men's about the same.
+ Well, Zeke an' me went on that way
+ An' fussed an' quarrelled day by day;
+ While Liza, mindin' not the fuss,
+ Jest kep' a-goin' with both of us,
+ Tell we pore chaps, that's Zeke an' me,
+ Was jest plum mad with jealousy.
+ Well, fur a time we kep' our places,
+ An' only showed by frownin' faces
+ An' looks 'at well our meanin' boded
+ How full o' fight we both was loaded.
+ At last it come, the thing broke out,
+ An' this is how it come about.
+ One night ('t was fair, you'll all agree)
+ I got Eliza's company,
+ An' leavin' Zekel in the lurch,
+ Went trottin' off with her to church.
+ An' jest as we had took our seat
+ (Eliza lookin' fair an' sweet),
+ Why, I jest could n't help but grin
+ When Zekel come a-bouncin' in
+ As furious as the law allows.
+ He 'd jest be'n up to Liza's house,
+ To find her gone, then come to church
+ To have this end put to his search.
+ I guess I laffed that meetin' through,
+ An' not a mortal word I knew
+ Of what the preacher preached er read
+ Er what the choir sung er said.
+ Fur every time I 'd turn my head
+ I could n't skeercely help but see
+ 'At Zekel had his eye on me.
+ An' he 'ud sort o' turn an' twist
+ An' grind his teeth an' shake his fist.
+ I laughed, fur la! the hull church seen us,
+ An' knowed that suthin' was between us.
+ Well, meetin' out, we started hum,
+ I sorter feelin' what would come.
+ We 'd jest got out, when up stepped Zeke,
+ An' said, "Scuse me, I 'd like to speak
+ To you a minute." "Cert," said I--
+ A-nudgin' Liza on the sly
+ An' laughin' in my sleeve with glee,
+ I asked her, please, to pardon me.
+ We walked away a step er two,
+ Jest to git out o' Liza's view,
+ An' then Zeke said, "I want to know
+ Ef you think you 're Eliza's beau,
+ An' 'at I 'm goin' to let her go
+ Hum with sich a chap as you?"
+ An' I said bold, "You bet I do."
+ Then Zekel, sneerin', said 'at he
+ Did n't want to hender me.
+ But then he 'lowed the gal was his
+ An' 'at he guessed he knowed his biz,
+ An' was n't feared o' all my kin
+ With all my friends an' chums throwed in.
+ Some other things he mentioned there
+ That no born man could no ways bear
+ Er think o' ca'mly tryin' to stan'
+ Ef Zeke had be'n the bigges' man
+ In town, an' not the leanest runt
+ 'At time an' labor ever stunt.
+ An' so I let my fist go "bim,"
+ I thought I 'd mos' nigh finished him.
+ But Zekel did n't take it so.
+ He jest ducked down an' dodged my blow
+ An' then come back at me so hard,
+ I guess I must 'a' hurt the yard,
+ Er spilet the grass plot where I fell,
+ An' sakes alive it hurt me; well,
+ It would n't be'n so bad, you see,
+ But he jest kep' a-hittin' me.
+ An' I hit back an' kicked an' pawed,
+ But 't seemed 't was mostly air I clawed,
+ While Zekel used his science well
+ A-makin' every motion tell.
+ He punched an' hit, why, goodness lands,
+ Seemed like he had a dozen hands.
+ Well, afterwhile they stopped the fuss,
+ An' some one kindly parted us.
+ All beat an' cuffed an' clawed an' scratched,
+ An' needin' both our faces patched,
+ Each started hum a different way;
+ An' what o' Liza, do you say,
+ Why, Liza--little humbug--dern her,
+ Why, she 'd gone home with Hiram Turner.
+
+
+THE LOVER AND THE MOON
+
+ A lover whom duty called over the wave,
+ With himself communed: "Will my love be true
+ If left to herself? Had I better not sue
+ Some friend to watch over her, good and grave?
+ But my friend might fail in my need," he said,
+ "And I return to find love dead.
+ Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June,
+ I will leave her in charge of the stable moon."
+
+ Then he said to the moon: "O dear old moon,
+ Who for years and years from thy thrown above
+ Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,
+ My heart has but come to its waiting June,
+ And the promise time of the budding vine;
+ Oh, guard thee well this love of mine."
+ And he harked him then while all was still,
+ And the pale moon answered and said, "I will."
+
+ And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas,
+ And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands:
+ In isles of the south and in Orient lands,
+ Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze.
+ But his star was high, so he braved the main,
+ And sailed him blithely home again;
+ And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
+ To learn of his love from the matron moon.
+
+ She sat as of yore, in her olden place,
+ Serene as death, in her silver chair.
+ A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair,
+ And the tint of a blush was on her face.
+ At sight of the youth she sadly bowed
+ And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud.
+ She faltered faint on the night's dim marge,
+ But "How," spoke the youth, "have you kept your charge?"
+
+ The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept;
+ The blush went out in her blanching cheek,
+ And her voice was timid and low and weak,
+ As she made her plea and sighed and wept.
+ "Oh, another prayed and another plead,
+ And I could n't resist," she answering said;
+ "But love still grows in the hearts of men:
+ Go forth, dear youth, and love again."
+
+ But he turned him away from her proffered grace.
+ "Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men,
+ I will not, will not love again."
+ And he turned sheer 'round with a soul-sick face
+ To the sea, and cried: "Sea, curse the moon,
+ Who makes her vows and forgets so soon."
+ And the awful sea with anger stirred,
+ And his breast heaved hard as he lay and heard.
+
+ And ever the moon wept down in rain,
+ And ever her sighs rose high in wind;
+ But the earth and sea were deaf and blind,
+ And she wept and sighed her griefs in vain.
+ And ever at night, when the storm is fierce,
+ The cries of a wraith through the thunder pierce;
+ And the waves strain their awful hands on high
+ To tear the false moon from the sky.
+
+
+CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE
+
+ "Good-bye," I said to my conscience--
+ "Good-bye for aye and aye,"
+ And I put her hands off harshly,
+ And turned my face away;
+ And conscience smitten sorely
+ Returned not from that day.
+
+ But a time came when my spirit
+ Grew weary of its pace;
+ And I cried: "Come back, my conscience;
+ I long to see thy face."
+ But conscience cried: "I cannot;
+ Remorse sits in my place."
+
+
+IONE
+
+I
+
+ Ah, yes, 't is sweet still to remember,
+ Though 'twere less painful to forget;
+ For while my heart glows like an ember,
+ Mine eyes with sorrow's drops are wet,
+ And, oh, my heart is aching yet.
+ It is a law of mortal pain
+ That old wounds, long accounted well,
+ Beneath the memory's potent spell,
+ Will wake to life and bleed again.
+
+ So 't is with me; it might be better
+ If I should turn no look behind,--
+ If I could curb my heart, and fetter
+ From reminiscent gaze my mind,
+ Or let my soul go blind--go blind!
+ But would I do it if I could?
+ Nay! ease at such a price were spurned;
+ For, since my love was once returned,
+ All that I suffer seemeth good.
+
+ I know, I know it is the fashion,
+ When love has left some heart distressed,
+ To weight the air with wordful passion;
+ But I am glad that in my breast
+ I ever held so dear a guest.
+ Love does not come at every nod,
+ Or every voice that calleth "hasten;"
+ He seeketh out some heart to chasten,
+ And whips it, wailing, up to God!
+
+ Love is no random road wayfarer
+ Who where he may must sip his glass.
+ Love is the King, the Purple-Wearer,
+ Whose guard recks not of tree or grass
+ To blaze the way that he may pass.
+ What if my heart be in the blast
+ That heralds his triumphant way;
+ Shall I repine, shall I not say:
+ "Rejoice, my heart, the King has passed!"
+
+ In life, each heart holds some sad story--
+ The saddest ones are never told.
+ I, too, have dreamed of fame and glory,
+ And viewed the future bright with gold;
+ But that is as a tale long told.
+ Mine eyes have lost their youthful flash,
+ My cunning hand has lost its art;
+ I am not old, but in my heart
+ The ember lies beneath the ash.
+
+ I loved! Why not? My heart was youthful,
+ My mind was filled with healthy thought.
+ He doubts not whose own self is truthful,
+ Doubt by dishonesty is taught;
+ So loved I boldly, fearing naught.
+ I did not walk this lowly earth;
+ Mine was a newer, higher sphere,
+ Where youth was long and life was dear,
+ And all save love was little worth.
+
+ Her likeness! Would that I might limn it,
+ As Love did, with enduring art;
+ Nor dust of days nor death may dim it,
+ Where it lies graven on my heart,
+ Of this sad fabric of my life a part.
+ I would that I might paint her now
+ As I beheld her in that day,
+ Ere her first bloom had passed away,
+ And left the lines upon her brow.
+
+ A face serene that, beaming brightly,
+ Disarmed the hot sun's glances bold.
+ A foot that kissed the ground so lightly,
+ He frowned in wrath and deemed her cold,
+ But loved her still though he was old.
+ A form where every maiden grace
+ Bloomed to perfection's richest flower,--
+ The statued pose of conscious power,
+ Like lithe-limbed Dian's of the chase.
+
+ Beneath a brow too fair for frowning,
+ Like moon-lit deeps that glass the skies
+ Till all the hosts above seem drowning,
+ Looked forth her steadfast hazel eyes,
+ With gaze serene and purely wise.
+ And over all, her tresses rare,
+ Which, when, with his desire grown weak,
+ The Night bent down to kiss her cheek,
+ Entrapped and held him captive there.
+
+ This was Ione; a spirit finer
+ Ne'er burned to ash its house of clay;
+ A soul instinct with fire diviner
+ Ne'er fled athwart the face of day,
+ And tempted Time with earthly stay.
+ Her loveliness was not alone
+ Of face and form and tresses' hue:
+ For aye a pure, high soul shone through
+ Her every act: this was Ione.
+
+
+II
+
+ 'T was in the radiant summer weather,
+ When God looked, smiling, from the sky;
+ And we went wand'ring much together
+ By wood and lane, Ione and I,
+ Attracted by the subtle tie
+ Of common thoughts and common tastes,
+ Of eyes whose vision saw the same,
+ And freely granted beauty's claim
+ Where others found but worthless wastes.
+
+ We paused to hear the far bells ringing
+ Across the distance, sweet and clear.
+ We listened to the wild bird's singing
+ The song he meant for his mate's ear,
+ And deemed our chance to do so dear.
+ We loved to watch the warrior Sun,
+ With flaming shield and flaunting crest,
+ Go striding down the gory West,
+ When Day's long fight was fought and won.
+
+ And life became a different story;
+ Where'er I looked, I saw new light.
+ Earth's self assumed a greater glory,
+ Mine eyes were cleared to fuller sight.
+ Then first I saw the need and might
+ Of that fair band, the singing throng,
+ Who, gifted with the skill divine,
+ Take up the threads of life, spun fine,
+ And weave them into soulful song.
+
+ They sung for me, whose passion pressing
+ My soul, found vent in song nor line.
+ They bore the burden of expressing
+ All that I felt, with art's design,
+ And every word of theirs was mine.
+ I read them to Ione, ofttimes,
+ By hill and shore, beneath fair skies,
+ And she looked deeply in mine eyes,
+ And knew my love spoke through their rhymes.
+
+ Her life was like the stream that floweth,
+ And mine was like the waiting sea;
+ Her love was like the flower that bloweth,
+ And mine was like the searching bee--
+ I found her sweetness all for me.
+ God plied him in the mint of time,
+ And coined for us a golden day,
+ And rolled it ringing down life's way
+ With love's sweet music in its chime.
+
+ And God unclasped the Book of Ages,
+ And laid it open to our sight;
+ Upon the dimness of its pages,
+ So long consigned to rayless night,
+ He shed the glory of his light.
+ We read them well, we read them long,
+ And ever thrilling did we see
+ That love ruled all humanity,--
+ The master passion, pure and strong.
+
+
+III
+
+ To-day my skies are bare and ashen,
+ And bend on me without a beam.
+ Since love is held the master-passion,
+ Its loss must be the pain supreme--
+ And grinning Fate has wrecked my dream.
+ But pardon, dear departed Guest,
+ I will not rant, I will not rail;
+ For good the grain must feel the flail;
+ There are whom love has never blessed.
+
+ I had and have a younger brother,
+ One whom I loved and love to-day
+ As never fond and doting mother
+ Adored the babe who found its way
+ From heavenly scenes into her day.
+ Oh, he was full of youth's new wine,--
+ A man on life's ascending slope,
+ Flushed with ambition, full of hope;
+ And every wish of his was mine.
+
+ A kingly youth; the way before him
+ Was thronged with victories to be won;
+ So joyous, too, the heavens o'er him
+ Were bright with an unchanging sun,--
+ His days with rhyme were overrun.
+ Toil had not taught him Nature's prose,
+ Tears had not dimmed his brilliant eyes,
+ And sorrow had not made him wise;
+ His life was in the budding rose.
+
+ I know not how I came to waken,
+ Some instinct pricked my soul to sight;
+ My heart by some vague thrill was shaken,--
+ A thrill so true and yet so slight,
+ I hardly deemed I read aright.
+ As when a sleeper, ign'rant why,
+ Not knowing what mysterious hand
+ Has called him out of slumberland,
+ Starts up to find some danger nigh.
+
+ Love is a guest that comes, unbidden,
+ But, having come, asserts his right;
+ He will not be repressed nor hidden.
+ And so my brother's dawning plight
+ Became uncovered to my sight.
+ Some sound-mote in his passing tone
+ Caught in the meshes of my ear;
+ Some little glance, a shade too dear,
+ Betrayed the love he bore Ione.
+
+ What could I do? He was my brother,
+ And young, and full of hope and trust;
+ I could not, dared not try to smother
+ His flame, and turn his heart to dust.
+ I knew how oft life gives a crust
+ To starving men who cry for bread;
+ But he was young, so few his days,
+ He had not learned the great world's ways,
+ Nor Disappointment's volumes read.
+
+ However fair and rich the booty,
+ I could not make his loss my gain.
+ For love is dear, but dearer duty,
+ And here my way was clear and plain.
+ I saw how I could save him pain.
+ And so, with all my day grown dim,
+ That this loved brother's sun might shine,
+ I joined his suit, gave over mine,
+ And sought Ione, to plead for him.
+
+ I found her in an eastern bower,
+ Where all day long the am'rous sun
+ Lay by to woo a timid flower.
+ This day his course was well-nigh run,
+ But still with lingering art he spun
+ Gold fancies on the shadowed wall.
+ The vines waved soft and green above,
+ And there where one might tell his love,
+ I told my griefs--I told her all!
+
+ I told her all, and as she hearkened,
+ A tear-drop fell upon her dress.
+ With grief her flushing brow was darkened;
+ One sob that she could not repress
+ Betrayed the depths of her distress.
+ Upon her grief my sorrow fed,
+ And I was bowed with unlived years,
+ My heart swelled with a sea of tears,
+ The tears my manhood could not shed.
+
+ The world is Rome, and Fate is Nero,
+ Disporting in the hour of doom.
+ God made us men; times make the hero--
+ But in that awful space of gloom
+ I gave no thought but sorrow's room.
+ All--all was dim within that bower,
+ What time the sun divorced the day;
+ And all the shadows, glooming gray,
+ Proclaimed the sadness of the hour.
+
+ She could not speak--no word was needed;
+ Her look, half strength and half despair,
+ Told me I had not vainly pleaded,
+ That she would not ignore my prayer.
+ And so she turned and left me there,
+ And as she went, so passed my bliss;
+ She loved me, I could not mistake--
+ But for her own and my love's sake,
+ Her womanhood could rise to this!
+
+ My wounded heart fled swift to cover,
+ And life at times seemed very drear.
+ My brother proved an ardent lover--
+ What had so young a man to fear?
+ He wed Ione within the year.
+ No shadow clouds her tranquil brow,
+ Men speak her husband's name with pride,
+ While she sits honored at his side--
+ She is--she must be happy now!
+
+ I doubt the course I took no longer,
+ Since those I love seem satisfied.
+ The bond between them will grow stronger
+ As they go forward side by side;
+ Then will my pains be jusfied.
+ Their joy is mine, and that is best--
+ I am not totally bereft;
+ For I have still the mem'ry left--
+ Love stopped with me--a Royal Guest!
+
+
+RELIGION
+
+ I am no priest of crooks nor creeds,
+ For human wants and human needs
+ Are more to me than prophets' deeds;
+ And human tears and human cares
+ Affect me more than human prayers.
+
+ Go, cease your wail, lugubrious saint!
+ You fret high Heaven with your plaint.
+ Is this the "Christian's joy" you paint?
+ Is this the Christian's boasted bliss?
+ Avails your faith no more than this?
+
+ Take up your arms, come out with me,
+ Let Heav'n alone; humanity
+ Needs more and Heaven less from thee.
+ With pity for mankind look 'round;
+ Help them to rise--and Heaven is found.
+
+
+DEACON JONES' GRIEVANCE
+
+ I 've been watchin' of 'em, parson,
+ An' I 'm sorry fur to say
+ 'At my mind is not contented
+ With the loose an' keerless way
+ 'At the young folks treat the music;
+ 'T ain't the proper sort o' choir.
+ Then I don't believe in Christuns
+ A-singin' hymns for hire.
+
+ But I never would 'a' murmured
+ An' the matter might 'a' gone
+ Ef it was n't fur the antics
+ 'At I've seen 'em kerry on;
+ So I thought it was my dooty
+ Fur to come to you an' ask
+ Ef you would n't sort o' gently
+ Take them singin' folks to task.
+
+ Fust, the music they 've be'n singin'
+ Will disgrace us mighty soon;
+ It 's a cross between a opry
+ An' a ol' cotillion tune.
+ With its dashes an' its quavers
+ An' its hifalutin style--
+ Why, it sets my head to swimmin'
+ When I 'm comin' down the aisle.
+
+ Now it might be almost decent
+ Ef it was n't fur the way
+ 'At they git up there an' sing it,
+ Hey dum diddle, loud and gay.
+ Why, it shames the name o' sacred
+ In its brazen wordliness,
+ An' they 've even got "Ol' Hundred"
+ In a bold, new-fangled dress.
+
+ You 'll excuse me, Mr. Parson,
+ Ef I seem a little sore;
+ But I 've sung the songs of Isr'el
+ For threescore years an' more,
+ An' it sort o' hurts my feelin's
+ Fur to see 'em put away
+ Fur these harum-scarum ditties
+ 'At is capturin' the day.
+
+ There 's anuther little happ'nin'
+ 'At I 'll mention while I 'm here,
+ Jes' to show 'at my objections
+ All is offered sound and clear.
+ It was one day they was singin'
+ An' was doin' well enough--
+ Singin' good as people could sing
+ Sich an awful mess o' stuff--
+
+ When the choir give a holler,
+ An' the organ give a groan,
+ An' they left one weak-voiced feller
+ A-singin' there alone!
+ But he stuck right to the music,
+ Tho' 't was tryin' as could be;
+ An' when I tried to help him,
+ Why, the hull church scowled at me.
+
+ You say that's so-low singin',
+ Well, I pray the Lord that I
+ Growed up when folks was willin'
+ To sing their hymns so high.
+ Why, we never had sich doin's
+ In the good ol' Bethel days,
+ When the folks was all contented
+ With the simple songs of praise.
+
+ Now I may have spoke too open,
+ But 'twas too hard to keep still,
+ An' I hope you 'll tell the singers
+ 'At I bear 'em no ill-will.
+ 'At they all may git to glory
+ Is my wish an' my desire,
+ But they 'll need some extry trainin'
+ 'Fore they jine the heavenly choir.
+
+
+ALICE
+
+ Know you, winds that blow your course
+ Down the verdant valleys,
+ That somewhere you must, perforce,
+ Kiss the brow of Alice?
+ When her gentle face you find,
+ Kiss it softly, naughty wind.
+
+ Roses waving fair and sweet
+ Thro' the garden alleys,
+ Grow into a glory meet
+ For the eye of Alice;
+ Let the wind your offering bear
+ Of sweet perfume, faint and rare.
+
+ Lily holding crystal dew
+ In your pure white chalice,
+ Nature kind hath fashioned you
+ Like the soul of Alice;
+ It of purest white is wrought,
+ Filled with gems of crystal thought.
+
+
+AFTER THE QUARREL
+
+ So we, who 've supped the self-same cup,
+ To-night must lay our friendship by;
+ Your wrath has burned your judgment up,
+ Hot breath has blown the ashes high.
+ You say that you are wronged--ah, well,
+ I count that friendship poor, at best
+ A bauble, a mere bagatelle,
+ That cannot stand so slight a test.
+
+ I fain would still have been your friend,
+ And talked and laughed and loved with you;
+ But since it must, why, let it end;
+ The false but dies, 't is not the true.
+ So we are favored, you and I,
+ Who only want the living truth.
+ It was not good to nurse the lie;
+ 'T is well it died in harmless youth.
+
+ I go from you to-night to sleep.
+ Why, what's the odds? why should I grieve?
+ I have no fund of tears to weep
+ For happenings that undeceive.
+ The days shall come, the days shall go
+ Just as they came and went before.
+ The sun shall shine, the streams shall flow
+ Though you and I are friends no more.
+
+ And in the volume of my years,
+ Where all my thoughts and acts shall be,
+ The page whereon your name appears
+ Shall be forever sealed to me.
+ Not that I hate you over-much,
+ 'T is less of hate than love defied;
+ Howe'er, our hands no more shall touch,
+ We 'll go our ways, the world is wide.
+
+
+BEYOND THE YEARS
+
+I
+
+ Beyond the years the answer lies,
+ Beyond where brood the grieving skies
+ And Night drops tears.
+ Where Faith rod-chastened smiles to rise
+ And doff its fears,
+ And carping Sorrow pines and dies--
+ Beyond the years.
+
+
+II
+
+ Beyond the years the prayer for rest
+ Shall beat no more within the breast;
+ The darkness clears,
+ And Morn perched on the mountain's crest
+ Her form uprears--
+ The day that is to come is best,
+ Beyond the years.
+
+
+III
+
+ Beyond the years the soul shall find
+ That endless peace for which it pined,
+ For light appears,
+ And to the eyes that still were blind
+ With blood and tears,
+ Their sight shall come all unconfined
+ Beyond the years.
+
+
+AFTER A VISIT
+
+ I be'n down in ole Kentucky
+ Fur a week er two, an' say,
+ 'T wuz ez hard ez breakin' oxen
+ Fur to tear myse'f away.
+ Allus argerin' 'bout fren'ship
+ An' yer hospitality--
+ Y' ain't no right to talk about it
+ Tell you be'n down there to see.
+
+ See jest how they give you welcome
+ To the best that's in the land,
+ Feel the sort o' grip they give you
+ When they take you by the hand.
+ Hear 'em say, "We 're glad to have you,
+ Better stay a week er two;"
+ An' the way they treat you makes you
+ Feel that ev'ry word is true.
+
+ Feed you tell you hear the buttons
+ Crackin' on yore Sunday vest;
+ Haul you roun' to see the wonders
+ Tell you have to cry for rest.
+ Drink yer health an' pet an' praise you
+ Tell you git to feel ez great
+ Ez the Sheriff o' the county
+ Ez the Gov'ner o' the State.
+
+ Wife, she sez I must be crazy
+ 'Cause I go on so, an' Nelse
+ He 'lows, "Goodness gracious! daddy,
+ Cain't you talk about nuthin' else?"
+ Well, pleg-gone it, I 'm jes' tickled,
+ Bein' tickled ain't no sin;
+ I be'n down in ole Kentucky,
+ An' I want o' go ag'in.
+
+
+CURTAIN
+
+ Villain shows his indiscretion,
+ Villain's partner makes confession.
+ Juvenile, with golden tresses,
+ Finds her pa and dons long dresses.
+ Scapegrace comes home money-laden,
+ Hero comforts tearful maiden,
+ Soubrette marries loyal chappie,
+ Villain skips, and all are happy.
+
+
+THE SPELLIN'-BEE
+
+ I never shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,
+ An' all us youngsters clambered in an' down the road went bobbin'
+ To school where we was kep' at work in every kind o' weather,
+ But where that night a spellin'-bee was callin' us together.
+ 'Twas one o' Heaven's banner nights, the stars was all a glitter,
+ The moon was shinin' like the hand o' God had jest then lit her.
+ The ground was white with spotless snow, the blast was sort o' stingin';
+ But underneath our round-abouts, you bet our hearts was singin'.
+ That spellin'-bee had be'n the talk o' many a precious moment,
+ The youngsters all was wild to see jes' what the precious show meant,
+ An' we whose years was in their teens was little less desirous
+ O' gittin' to the meetin' so 's our sweethearts could admire us.
+ So on we went so anxious fur to satisfy our mission
+ That father had to box our ears, to smother our ambition.
+ But boxin' ears was too short work to hinder our arrivin',
+ He jest turned roun' an' smacked us all, an' kep' right on a-drivin'.
+ Well, soon the schoolhouse hove in sight, the winders beamin' brightly;
+ The sound o' talkin' reached our ears, and voices laffin' lightly.
+ It puffed us up so full an' big 'at I 'll jest bet a dollar,
+ There wa'n't a feller there but felt the strain upon his collar.
+ So down we jumped an' in we went ez sprightly ez you make 'em,
+ But somethin' grabbed us by the knees an' straight began to shake 'em.
+ Fur once within that lighted room, our feelin's took a canter,
+ An' scurried to the zero mark ez quick ez Tam O'Shanter.
+ 'Cause there was crowds o' people there, both sexes an' all stations;
+ It looked like all the town had come an' brought all their relations.
+ The first I saw was Nettie Gray, I thought that girl was dearer
+ 'N' gold; an' when I got a chance, you bet I aidged up near her.
+ An' Farmer Dobbs's girl was there, the one 'at Jim was sweet on,
+ An' Cyrus Jones an' Mandy Smith an' Faith an' Patience Deaton.
+ Then Parson Brown an' Lawyer Jones were present--all attention,
+ An' piles on piles of other folks too numerous to mention.
+ The master rose an' briefly said: "Good friends, dear brother Crawford,
+ To spur the pupils' minds along, a little prize has offered.
+ To him who spells the best to-night--or 't may be 'her'--no tellin'--
+ He offers ez a jest reward, this precious work on spellin'."
+ A little blue-backed spellin'-book with fancy scarlet trimmin';
+ We boys devoured it with our eyes--so did the girls an' women.
+ He held it up where all could see, then on the table set it,
+ An' ev'ry speller in the house felt mortal bound to get it.
+ At his command we fell in line, prepared to do our dooty,
+ Outspell the rest an' set 'em down, an' carry home the booty.
+ 'T was then the merry times began, the blunders, an' the laffin',
+ The nudges an' the nods an' winks an' stale good-natured chaffin'.
+ Ole Uncle Hiram Dane was there, the clostest man a-livin',
+ Whose only bugbear seemed to be the dreadful fear o' givin'.
+ His beard was long, his hair uncut, his clothes all bare an' dingy;
+ It wasn't 'cause the man was pore, but jest so mortal stingy;
+ An' there he sot by Sally Riggs a-smilin' an' a-smirkin',
+ An' all his children lef' to home a diggin' an' a-workin'.
+ A widower he was, an' Sal was thinkin' 'at she 'd wing him;
+ I reckon he was wond'rin' what them rings o' hern would bring him.
+ An' when the spellin'-test commenced, he up an' took his station,
+ A-spellin' with the best o' them to beat the very nation.
+ An' when he 'd spell some youngster down, he 'd turn to look at Sally,
+ An' say: "The teachin' nowadays can't be o' no great vally."
+ But true enough the adage says, "Pride walks in slipp'ry places,"
+ Fur soon a thing occurred that put a smile on all our faces.
+ The laffter jest kep' ripplin' 'roun' an' teacher could n't quell it,
+ Fur when he give out "charity" ole Hiram could n't spell it.
+ But laffin' 's ketchin' an' it throwed some others off their bases,
+ An' folks 'u'd miss the very word that seemed to fit their cases.
+ Why, fickle little Jessie Lee come near the house upsettin'
+ By puttin' in a double "kay" to spell the word "coquettin'."
+ An' when it come to Cyrus Jones, it tickled me all over--
+ Him settin' up to Mandy Smith an' got sot down on "lover."
+ But Lawyer Jones of all gone men did shorely look the gonest,
+ When he found out that he 'd furgot to put the "h" in "honest."
+ An' Parson Brown, whose sermons were too long fur toleration,
+ Caused lots o' smiles by missin' when they give out "condensation."
+ So one by one they giv' it up--the big words kep' a-landin',
+ Till me an' Nettie Gray was left, the only ones a-standin',
+ An' then my inward strife began--I guess my mind was petty--
+ I did so want that spellin'-book; but then to spell down Nettie
+ Jest sort o' went ag'in my grain--I somehow could n't do it,
+ An' when I git a notion fixed, I 'm great on stickin' to it.
+ So when they giv' the next word out--I had n't orter tell it,
+ But then 't was all fur Nettie's sake--I missed so's she could spell it.
+ She spelt the word, then looked at me so lovin'-like an' mello',
+ I tell you 't sent a hunderd pins a shootin' through a fello'.
+ O' course I had to stand the jokes an' chaffin' of the fello's,
+ But when they handed her the book I vow I was n't jealous.
+ We sung a hymn, an' Parson Brown dismissed us like he orter,
+ Fur, la! he 'd learned a thing er two an' made his blessin' shorter.
+ 'T was late an' cold when we got out, but Nettie liked cold weather,
+ An' so did I, so we agreed we 'd jest walk home together.
+ We both wuz silent, fur of words we nuther had a surplus,
+ 'Till she spoke out quite sudden like, "You missed that word on purpose."
+ Well, I declare it frightened me; at first I tried denyin',
+ But Nettie, she jest smiled an' smiled, she knowed that I was lyin'.
+ Sez she: "That book is yourn by right;" sez I: "It never could be--
+ I--I--you--ah--" an' there I stuck, an' well she understood me.
+ So we agreed that later on when age had giv' us tether,
+ We 'd jine our lots an' settle down to own that book together.
+
+
+KEEP A-PLUGGIN' AWAY
+
+ I 've a humble little motto
+ That is homely, though it 's true,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ It's a thing when I 've an object
+ That I always try to do,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ When you 've rising storms to quell,
+ When opposing waters swell,
+ It will never fail to tell,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+
+ If the hills are high before
+ And the paths are hard to climb,
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ And remember that successes
+ Come to him who bides his time,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ From the greatest to the least,
+ None are from the rule released.
+ Be thou toiler, poet, priest,
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+
+ Delve away beneath the surface,
+ There is treasure farther down,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ Let the rain come down in torrents,
+ Let the threat'ning heavens frown,
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ When the clouds have rolled away,
+ There will come a brighter day
+ All your labor to repay,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+
+ There 'll be lots of sneers to swallow,
+ There 'll be lots of pain to bear,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ If you 've got your eye on heaven,
+ Some bright day you 'll wake up there,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+ Perseverance still is king;
+ Time its sure reward will bring;
+ Work and wait unwearying,--
+ Keep a-pluggin' away.
+
+
+NIGHT OF LOVE
+
+ The moon has left the sky, love,
+ The stars are hiding now,
+ And frowning on the world, love,
+ Night bares her sable brow.
+ The snow is on the ground, love,
+ And cold and keen the air is.
+ I 'm singing here to you, love;
+ You 're dreaming there in Paris.
+
+ But this is Nature's law, love,
+ Though just it may not seem,
+ That men should wake to sing, love,
+ While maidens sleep and dream.
+ Them care may not molest, love,
+ Nor stir them from their slumbers,
+ Though midnight find the swain, love,
+ Still halting o'er his numbers.
+
+ I watch the rosy dawn, love,
+ Come stealing up the east,
+ While all things round rejoice, love,
+ That Night her reign has ceased.
+ The lark will soon be heard, love,
+ And on his way be winging;
+ When Nature's poets wake, love,
+ Why should a man be singing?
+
+
+COLUMBIAN ODE
+
+I
+
+ Four hundred years ago a tangled waste
+ Lay sleeping on the west Atlantic's side;
+ Their devious ways the Old World's millions traced
+ Content, and loved, and labored, dared and died,
+ While students still believed the charts they conned,
+ And revelled in their thriftless ignorance,
+ Nor dreamed of other lands that lay beyond
+ Old Ocean's dense, indefinite expanse.
+
+
+II
+
+ But deep within her heart old Nature knew
+ That she had once arrayed, at Earth's behest,
+ Another offspring, fine and fair to view,--
+ The chosen suckling of the mother's breast.
+ The child was wrapped in vestments soft and fine,
+ Each fold a work of Nature's matchless art;
+ The mother looked on it with love divine,
+ And strained the loved one closely to her heart.
+ And there it lay, and with the warmth grew strong
+ And hearty, by the salt sea breezes fanned,
+ Till Time with mellowing touches passed along,
+ And changed the infant to a mighty land.
+
+
+III
+
+ But men knew naught of this, till there arose
+ That mighty mariner, the Genoese,
+ Who dared to try, in spite of fears and foes,
+ The unknown fortunes of unsounded seas.
+ O noblest of Italia's sons, thy bark
+ Went not alone into that shrouding night!
+ O dauntless darer of the rayless dark,
+ The world sailed with thee to eternal light!
+ The deer-haunts that with game were crowded then
+ To-day are tilled and cultivated lands;
+ The schoolhouse tow'rs where Bruin had his den,
+ And where the wigwam stood the chapel stands;
+ The place that nurtured men of savage mien
+ Now teems with men of Nature's noblest types;
+ Where moved the forest-foliage banner green,
+ Now flutters in the breeze the stars and stripes!
+
+
+A BORDER BALLAD
+
+ Oh, I have n't got long to live, for we all
+ Die soon, e'en those who live longest;
+ And the poorest and weakest are taking their chance
+ Along with the richest and strongest.
+ So it's heigho for a glass and a song,
+ And a bright eye over the table,
+ And a dog for the hunt when the game is flush,
+ And the pick of a gentleman's stable.
+
+ There is Dimmock o' Dune, he was here yester-night,
+ But he 's rotting to-day on Glen Arragh;
+ 'Twas the hand o' MacPherson that gave him the blow,
+ And the vultures shall feast on his marrow.
+ But it's heigho for a brave old song
+ And a glass while we are able;
+ Here 's a health to death and another cup
+ To the bright eye over the table.
+
+ I can show a broad back and a jolly deep chest,
+ But who argues now on appearance?
+ A blow or a thrust or a stumble at best
+ May send me to-day to my clearance.
+ Then it's heigho for the things I love,
+ My mother 'll be soon wearing sable,
+ But give me my horse and my dog and my glass,
+ And a bright eye over the table.
+
+
+AN EASY-GOIN' FELLER
+
+ Ther' ain't no use in all this strife,
+ An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life.
+ I don't believe in goin' too fast
+ To see what kind o' road you 've passed.
+ It ain't no mortal kind o' good,
+ 'N' I would n't hurry ef I could.
+ I like to jest go joggin' 'long,
+ To limber up my soul with song;
+ To stop awhile 'n' chat the men,
+ 'N' drink some cider now an' then.
+ Do' want no boss a-standin' by
+ To see me work; I allus try
+ To do my dooty right straight up,
+ An' earn what fills my plate an' cup.
+ An' ez fur boss, I 'll be my own,
+ I like to jest be let alone;
+ To plough my strip an' tend my bees,
+ An' do jest like I doggoned please.
+ My head's all right, an' my heart's meller,
+ But I 'm a easy-goin' feller.
+
+
+A NEGRO LOVE SONG
+
+ Seen my lady home las' night,
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ Hel' huh han' an' sque'z it tight,
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh,
+ Seen a light gleam f'om huh eye,
+ An' a smile go flittin' by--
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+
+ Hyeahd de win' blow thoo de pine,
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ Mockin'-bird was singin' fine,
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ An' my hea't was beatin' so,
+ When I reached my lady's do',
+ Dat I could n't ba' to go--
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+
+ Put my ahm aroun' huh wais',
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ Raised huh lips an' took a tase,
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+ Love me, honey, love me true?
+ Love me well ez I love you?
+ An' she answe'd, "'Cose I do"--
+ Jump back, honey, jump back.
+
+
+THE DILETTANTE: A MODERN TYPE
+
+ He scribbles some in prose and verse,
+ And now and then he prints it;
+ He paints a little,--gathers some
+ Of Nature's gold and mints it.
+
+ He plays a little, sings a song,
+ Acts tragic roles, or funny;
+ He does, because his love is strong,
+ But not, oh, not for money!
+
+ He studies almost everything
+ From social art to science;
+ A thirsty mind, a flowing spring,
+ Demand and swift compliance.
+
+ He looms above the sordid crowd--
+ At least through friendly lenses;
+ While his mamma looks pleased and proud,
+ And kindly pays expenses.
+
+
+BY THE STREAM
+
+ By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
+ How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
+ And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
+ Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.
+ And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
+ For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
+ And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,
+ When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.
+
+
+THE COLORED SOLDIERS
+
+ If the muse were mine to tempt it
+ And my feeble voice were strong,
+ If my tongue were trained to measures,
+ I would sing a stirring song.
+ I would sing a song heroic
+ Of those noble sons of Ham,
+ Of the gallant colored soldiers
+ Who fought for Uncle Sam!
+
+ In the early days you scorned them,
+ And with many a flip and flout
+ Said "These battles are the white man's,
+ And the whites will fight them out."
+ Up the hills you fought and faltered,
+ In the vales you strove and bled,
+ While your ears still heard the thunder
+ Of the foes' advancing tread.
+
+ Then distress fell on the nation,
+ And the flag was drooping low;
+ Should the dust pollute your banner?
+ No! the nation shouted, No!
+ So when War, in savage triumph,
+ Spread abroad his funeral pall--
+ Then you called the colored soldiers,
+ And they answered to your call.
+
+ And like hounds unleashed and eager
+ For the life blood of the prey,
+ Sprung they forth and bore them bravely
+ In the thickest of the fray.
+ And where'er the fight was hottest,
+ Where the bullets fastest fell,
+ There they pressed unblanched and fearless
+ At the very mouth of hell.
+
+ Ah, they rallied to the standard
+ To uphold it by their might;
+ None were stronger in the labors,
+ None were braver in the fight.
+ From the blazing breach of Wagner
+ To the plains of Olustee,
+ They were foremost in the fight
+ Of the battles of the free.
+
+ And at Pillow! God have mercy
+ On the deeds committed there,
+ And the souls of those poor victims
+ Sent to Thee without a prayer.
+ Let the fulness of Thy pity
+ O'er the hot wrought spirits sway
+ Of the gallant colored soldiers
+ Who fell fighting on that day!
+
+ Yes, the Blacks enjoy their freedom,
+ And they won it dearly, too;
+ For the life blood of their thousands
+ Did the southern fields bedew.
+ In the darkness of their bondage,
+ In the depths of slavery's night,
+ Their muskets flashed the dawning,
+ And they fought their way to light.
+
+ They were comrades then and brothers,
+ Are they more or less to-day?
+ They were good to stop a bullet
+ And to front the fearful fray.
+ They were citizens and soldiers,
+ When rebellion raised its head;
+ And the traits that made them worthy,--
+ Ah! those virtues are not dead.
+
+ They have shared your nightly vigils,
+ They have shared your daily toil;
+ And their blood with yours commingling
+ Has enriched the Southern soil.
+
+ They have slept and marched and suffered
+ 'Neath the same dark skies as you,
+ They have met as fierce a foeman,
+ And have been as brave and true.
+
+ And their deeds shall find a record
+ In the registry of Fame;
+ For their blood has cleansed completely
+ Every blot of Slavery's shame.
+ So all honor and all glory
+ To those noble sons of Ham--
+ The gallant colored soldiers
+ Who fought for Uncle Sam!
+
+
+NATURE AND ART
+
+TO MY FRIEND CHARLES BOOTH NETTLETON
+
+I
+
+ The young queen Nature, ever sweet and fair,
+ Once on a time fell upon evil days.
+ From hearing oft herself discussed with praise,
+ There grew within her heart the longing rare
+ To see herself; and every passing air
+ The warm desire fanned into lusty blaze.
+ Full oft she sought this end by devious ways,
+ But sought in vain, so fell she in despair.
+ For none within her train nor by her side
+ Could solve the task or give the envied boon.
+ So day and night, beneath the sun and moon,
+ She wandered to and fro unsatisfied,
+ Till Art came by, a blithe inventive elf,
+ And made a glass wherein she saw herself.
+
+
+II
+
+ Enrapt, the queen gazed on her glorious self,
+ Then trembling with the thrill of sudden thought,
+ Commanded that the skilful wight be brought
+ That she might dower him with lands and pelf.
+ Then out upon the silent sea-lapt shelf
+ And up the hills and on the downs they sought
+ Him who so well and wondrously had wrought;
+ And with much search found and brought home the elf.
+ But he put by all gifts with sad replies,
+ And from his lips these words flowed forth like wine:
+ "O queen, I want no gift but thee," he said.
+ She heard and looked on him with love-lit eyes,
+ Gave him her hand, low murmuring, "I am thine,"
+ And at the morrow's dawning they were wed.
+
+
+AFTER WHILE
+
+ A POEM OF FAITH
+
+ I think that though the clouds be dark,
+ That though the waves dash o'er the bark,
+ Yet after while the light will come,
+ And in calm waters safe at home
+ The bark will anchor.
+ Weep not, my sad-eyed, gray-robed maid,
+ Because your fairest blossoms fade,
+ That sorrow still o'erruns your cup,
+ And even though you root them up,
+ The weeds grow ranker.
+
+ For after while your tears shall cease,
+ And sorrow shall give way to peace;
+ The flowers shall bloom, the weeds shall die,
+ And in that faith seen, by and by
+ Thy woes shall perish.
+ Smile at old Fortune's adverse tide,
+ Smile when the scoffers sneer and chide.
+ Oh, not for you the gems that pale,
+ And not for you the flowers that fail;
+ Let this thought cherish:
+
+ That after while the clouds will part,
+ And then with joy the waiting heart
+ Shall feel the light come stealing in,
+ That drives away the cloud of sin
+ And breaks its power.
+ And you shall burst your chrysalis,
+ And wing away to realms of bliss,
+ Untrammelled, pure, divinely free,
+ Above all earth's anxiety
+ From that same hour.
+
+
+THE OL' TUNES
+
+ You kin talk about yer anthems
+ An' yer arias an' sich,
+ An' yer modern choir-singin'
+ That you think so awful rich;
+ But you orter heerd us youngsters
+ In the times now far away,
+ A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ There was some of us sung treble
+ An' a few of us growled bass,
+ An' the tide o' song flowed smoothly
+ With its 'comp'niment o' grace;
+ There was spirit in that music,
+ An' a kind o' solemn sway,
+ A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ I remember oft o' standin'
+ In my homespun pantaloons--
+ On my face the bronze an' freckles
+ O' the suns o' youthful Junes--
+ Thinkin' that no mortal minstrel
+ Ever chanted sich a lay
+ As the ol' tunes we was singin'
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ The boys 'ud always lead us,
+ An' the girls 'ud all chime in
+ Till the sweetness o' the singin'
+ Robbed the list'nin' soul o' sin;
+ An' I used to tell the parson
+ 'T was as good to sing as pray,
+ When the people sung the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ How I long ag'in to hear 'em
+ Pourin' forth from soul to soul,
+ With the treble high an' meller,
+ An' the bass's mighty roll;
+ But the times is very diff'rent,
+ An' the music heerd to-day
+ Ain't the singin' o' the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ Little screechin' by a woman,
+ Little squawkin' by a man,
+ Then the organ's twiddle-twaddle,
+ Jest the empty space to span,--
+ An' ef you should even think it,
+ 'T is n't proper fur to say
+ That you want to hear the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+ But I think that some bright mornin',
+ When the toils of life air o'er,
+ An' the sun o' heaven arisin'
+ Glads with light the happy shore,
+ I shall hear the angel chorus,
+ In the realms of endless day,
+ A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
+ In the ol'-fashioned way.
+
+
+MELANCHOLIA
+
+ Silently without my window,
+ Tapping gently at the pane,
+ Falls the rain.
+ Through the trees sighs the breeze
+ Like a soul in pain.
+ Here alone I sit and weep;
+ Thought hath banished sleep.
+
+ Wearily I sit and listen
+ To the water's ceaseless drip.
+ To my lip
+ Fate turns up the bitter cup,
+ Forcing me to sip;
+ 'T is a bitter, bitter drink,
+ Thus I sit and think,--
+
+ Thinking things unknown and awful,
+ Thoughts on wild, uncanny themes,
+ Waking dreams.
+ Spectres dark, corpses stark,
+ Show the gaping seams
+ Whence the cold and cruel knife
+ Stole away their life.
+
+ Bloodshot eyes all strained and staring,
+ Gazing ghastly into mine;
+ Blood like wine
+ On the brow--clotted now--
+ Shows death's dreadful sign.
+ Lonely vigil still I keep;
+ Would that I might sleep!
+
+ Still, oh, still, my brain is whirling!
+ Still runs on my stream of thought;
+ I am caught
+ In the net fate hath set.
+ Mind and soul are brought
+ To destruction's very brink;
+ Yet I can but think!
+
+ Eyes that look into the future,--
+ Peeping forth from out my mind,
+ They will find
+ Some new weight, soon or late,
+ On my soul to bind,
+ Crushing all its courage out,--
+ Heavier than doubt.
+
+ Dawn, the Eastern monarch's daughter,
+ Rising from her dewy bed,
+ Lays her head
+ 'Gainst the clouds' sombre shrouds
+ Now half fringed with red.
+ O'er the land she 'gins to peep;
+ Come, O gentle Sleep!
+
+ Hark! the morning cock is crowing;
+ Dreams, like ghosts, must hie away;
+ 'Tis the day.
+ Rosy morn now is born;
+ Dark thoughts may not stay.
+ Day my brain from foes will keep;
+ Now, my soul, I sleep.
+
+
+THE WOOING
+
+ A youth went faring up and down,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ He fared him to the market town,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ And there he met a maiden fair,
+ With hazel eyes and auburn hair;
+ His heart went from him then and there,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+
+ She posies sold right merrily,
+ Alack and well-a-day;
+ But not a flower was fair as she,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ He bought a rose and sighed a sigh,
+ "Ah, dearest maiden, would that I
+ Might dare the seller too to buy!"
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+
+ She tossed her head, the coy coquette,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ "I'm not, sir, in the market yet,"
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ "Your love must cool upon a shelf;
+ Tho' much I sell for gold and pelf,
+ I 'm yet too young to sell myself,"
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+
+ The youth was filled with sorrow sore,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ And looked he at the maid once more,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ Then loud he cried, "Fair maiden, if
+ Too young to sell, now as I live,
+ You're not too young yourself to give,"
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+
+ The little maid cast down her eyes,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ And many a flush began to rise,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+ "Why, since you are so bold," she said,
+ "I doubt not you are highly bred,
+ So take me!" and the twain were wed,
+ Alack and well-a-day.
+
+
+MERRY AUTUMN
+
+ It's all a farce,--these tales they tell
+ About the breezes sighing,
+ And moans astir o'er field and dell,
+ Because the year is dying.
+
+ Such principles are most absurd,--
+ I care not who first taught 'em;
+ There's nothing known to beast or bird
+ To make a solemn autumn.
+
+ In solemn times, when grief holds sway
+ With countenance distressing,
+ You'll note the more of black and gray
+ Will then be used in dressing.
+
+ Now purple tints are all around;
+ The sky is blue and mellow;
+ And e'en the grasses turn the ground
+ From modest green to yellow.
+
+ The seed burrs all with laughter crack
+ On featherweed and jimson;
+ And leaves that should be dressed in black
+ Are all decked out in crimson.
+
+ A butterfly goes winging by;
+ A singing bird comes after;
+ And Nature, all from earth to sky,
+ Is bubbling o'er with laughter.
+
+ The ripples wimple on the rills,
+ Like sparkling little lasses;
+ The sunlight runs along the hills,
+ And laughs among the grasses.
+
+ The earth is just so full of fun
+ It really can't contain it;
+ And streams of mirth so freely run
+ The heavens seem to rain it.
+
+ Don't talk to me of solemn days
+ In autumn's time of splendor,
+ Because the sun shows fewer rays,
+ And these grow slant and slender.
+
+ Why, it's the climax of the year,--
+ The highest time of living!--
+ Till naturally its bursting cheer
+ Just melts into thanksgiving.
+
+
+WHEN DE CO'N PONE'S HOT
+
+ Dey is times in life when Nature
+ Seems to slip a cog an' go,
+ Jes' a-rattlin' down creation,
+ Lak an ocean's overflow;
+ When de worl' jes' stahts a-spinnin'
+ Lak a picaninny's top,
+ An' yo' cup o' joy is brimmin'
+ 'Twell it seems about to slop,
+ An' you feel jes' lak a racah,
+ Dat is trainin' fu' to trot--
+ When yo' mammy says de blessin'
+ An' de co'n pone 's hot.
+
+ When you set down at de table,
+ Kin' o' weary lak an' sad,
+ An' you 'se jes' a little tiahed
+ An' purhaps a little mad;
+ How yo' gloom tu'ns into gladness,
+ How yo' joy drives out de doubt
+ When de oven do' is opened,
+ An' de smell comes po'in' out;
+ Why, de 'lectric light o' Heaven
+ Seems to settle on de spot,
+ When yo' mammy says de blessin'
+ An' de co'n pone 's hot.
+
+ When de cabbage pot is steamin'
+ An' de bacon good an' fat,
+ When de chittlins is a-sputter'n'
+ So 's to show you whah dey's at;
+ Tek away yo' sody biscuit,
+ Tek away yo' cake an' pie,
+ Fu' de glory time is comin',
+ An' it's 'proachin' mighty nigh,
+ An' you want to jump an' hollah,
+ Dough you know you 'd bettah not,
+ When yo' mammy says de blessin'
+ An' de co'n pone 's hot.
+
+ I have hyeahd o' lots o' sermons,
+ An' I 've hyeahd o' lots o' prayers,
+ An' I 've listened to some singin'
+ Dat has tuck me up de stairs
+ Of de Glory-Lan' an' set me
+ Jes' below de Mastah's th'one,
+ An' have lef my hea't a-singin'
+ In a happy aftah tone;
+ But dem wu'ds so sweetly murmured
+ Seem to tech de softes' spot,
+ When my mammy says de blessin',
+ An' de co'n pone's hot.
+
+
+BALLAD
+
+ I know my love is true,
+ And oh the day is fair.
+ The sky is clear and blue,
+ The flowers are rich of hue,
+ The air I breathe is rare,
+ I have no grief or care;
+ For my own love is true,
+ And oh 'the day is fair.
+
+ My love is false I find,
+ And oh the day is dark.
+ Blows sadly down the wind,
+ While sorrow holds my mind;
+ I do not hear the lark,
+ For quenched is life's dear spark,--
+ My love is false I find,
+ And oh the day is dark!
+
+ For love doth make the day
+ Or dark or doubly bright;
+ Her beams along the way
+ Dispel the gloom and gray.
+ She lives and all is bright,
+ She dies and life is night.
+ For love doth make the day,
+ Or dark or doubly bright.
+
+
+THE CHANGE HAS COME
+
+ The change has come, and Helen sleeps--
+ Not sleeps; but wakes to greater deeps
+ Of wisdom, glory, truth, and light,
+ Than ever blessed her seeking sight,
+ In this low, long, lethargic night,
+ Worn out with strife
+ Which men call life.
+
+ The change has come, and who would say
+ "I would it were not come to-day"?
+ What were the respite till to-morrow?
+ Postponement of a certain sorrow,
+ From which each passing day would borrow!
+ Let grief be dumb,
+ The change has come.
+
+
+COMPARISON
+
+ The sky of brightest gray seems dark
+ To one whose sky was ever white.
+ To one who never knew a spark,
+ Thro' all his life, of love or light,
+ The grayest cloud seems over-bright.
+
+ The robin sounds a beggar's note
+ Where one the nightingale has heard,
+ But he for whom no silver throat
+ Its liquid music ever stirred,
+ Deems robin still the sweetest bird.
+
+
+A CORN-SONG
+
+ On the wide veranda white,
+ In the purple failing light,
+ Sits the master while the sun is lowly burning;
+ And his dreamy thoughts are drowned
+ In the softly flowing sound
+ Of the corn-songs of the field-hands slow returning.
+
+ Oh, we hoe de co'n
+ Since de ehly mo'n;
+ Now de sinkin' sun
+ Says de day is done.
+
+ O'er the fields with heavy tread,
+ Light of heart and high of head,
+ Though the halting steps be labored, slow, and weary;
+ Still the spirits brave and strong
+ Find a comforter in song,
+ And their corn-song rises ever loud and cheery.
+
+ Oh, we hoe de co'n
+ Since de ehly mo'n;
+ Now de sinkin' sun
+ Says de day is done.
+
+ To the master in his seat,
+ Comes the burden, full and sweet,
+ Of the mellow minor music growing clearer,
+ As the toilers raise the hymn,
+ Thro' the silence dusk and dim,
+ To the cabin's restful shelter drawing nearer.
+
+ Oh, we hoe de co'n
+ Since de ehly mo'n;
+ Now de sinkin' sun
+ Says de day is done.
+
+ And a tear is in the eye
+ Of the master sitting by,
+ As he listens to the echoes low-replying
+ To the music's fading calls
+ As it faints away and falls
+ Into silence, deep within the cabin dying.
+
+ Oh, we hoe de co'n
+ Since de ehly mo'n;
+ Now de sinkin' sun
+ Says de day is done.
+
+
+DISCOVERED
+
+ Seen you down at chu'ch las' night,
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+ What I mean? oh, dat 's all right,
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+ You was sma't ez sma't could be,
+ But you could n't hide f'om me.
+ Ain't I got two eyes to see!
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+
+ Guess you thought you's awful keen;
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+ Evahthing you done, I seen;
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+ Seen him tek yo' ahm jes' so,
+ When he got outside de do'--
+ Oh, I know dat man 's yo' beau!
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+
+ Say now, honey, wha 'd he say?--
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy!
+ Keep yo' secrets--dat's yo' way--
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
+ Won't tell me an' I'm yo' pal--
+ I'm gwine tell his othah gal,--
+ Know huh, too, huh name is Sal;
+ Nevah min', Miss Lucy!
+
+
+DISAPPOINTED
+
+ An old man planted and dug and tended,
+ Toiling in joy from dew to dew;
+ The sun was kind, and the rain befriended;
+ Fine grew his orchard and fair to view.
+ Then he said: "I will quiet my thrifty fears,
+ For here is fruit for my failing years."
+
+ But even then the storm-clouds gathered,
+ Swallowing up the azure sky;
+ The sweeping winds into white foam lathered
+ The placid breast of the bay, hard by;
+ Then the spirits that raged in the darkened air
+ Swept o'er his orchard and left it bare.
+
+ The old man stood in the rain, uncaring,
+ Viewing the place the storm had swept;
+ And then with a cry from his soul despairing,
+ He bowed him down to the earth and wept.
+ But a voice cried aloud from the driving rain;
+ "Arise, old man, and plant again!"
+
+
+INVITATION TO LOVE
+
+ Come when the nights are bright with stars
+ Or when the moon is mellow;
+ Come when the sun his golden bars
+ Drops on the hay-field yellow.
+ Come in the twilight soft and gray,
+ Come in the night or come in the day,
+ Come, O love, whene'er you may,
+ And you are welcome, welcome.
+
+ You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,
+ You are soft as the nesting dove.
+ Come to my heart and bring it rest
+ As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.
+
+ Come when my heart is full of grief
+ Or when my heart is merry;
+ Come with the falling of the leaf
+ Or with the redd'ning cherry.
+ Come when the year's first blossom blows,
+ Come when the summer gleams and glows,
+ Come with the winter's drifting snows,
+ And you are welcome, welcome.
+
+
+HE HAD HIS DREAM
+
+ He had his dream, and all through life,
+ Worked up to it through toil and strife.
+ Afloat fore'er before his eyes,
+ It colored for him all his skies:
+ The storm-cloud dark
+ Above his bark,
+ The calm and listless vault of blue
+ Took on its hopeful hue,
+ It tinctured every passing beam--
+ He had his dream.
+
+ He labored hard and failed at last,
+ His sails too weak to bear the blast,
+ The raging tempests tore away
+ And sent his beating bark astray.
+ But what cared he
+ For wind or sea!
+ He said, "The tempest will be short,
+ My bark will come to port."
+ He saw through every cloud a gleam--
+ He had his dream.
+
+
+GOOD-NIGHT
+
+ The lark is silent in his nest,
+ The breeze is sighing in its flight,
+ Sleep, Love, and peaceful be thy rest.
+ Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
+
+ Sweet dreams attend thee in thy sleep,
+ To soothe thy rest till morning's light,
+ And angels round thee vigil keep.
+ Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
+
+ Sleep well, my love, on night's dark breast,
+ And ease thy soul with slumber bright;
+ Be joy but thine and I am blest.
+ Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
+
+
+A COQUETTE CONQUERED
+
+ Yes, my ha't 's ez ha'd ez stone--
+ Go 'way, Sam, an' lemme 'lone.
+ No; I ain't gwine change my min'--
+ Ain't gwine ma'y you--nuffin' de kin'.
+
+ Phiny loves you true an' deah?
+ Go ma'y Phiny; whut I keer?
+ Oh, you need n't mou'n an' cry--
+ I don't keer how soon you die.
+
+ Got a present! Whut you got?
+ Somef'n fu' de pan er pot!
+ Huh! yo' sass do sholy beat--
+ Think I don't git 'nough to eat?
+
+ Whut's dat un'neaf yo' coat?
+ Looks des lak a little shoat.
+ 'T ain't no possum! Bless de Lamb!
+ Yes, it is, you rascal, Sam!
+
+ Gin it to me; whut you say?
+ Ain't you sma't now! Oh, go 'way!
+ Possum do look mighty nice,
+ But you ax too big a price.
+
+ Tell me, is you talkin' true,
+ Dat 's de gal's whut ma'ies you?
+ Come back, Sam; now whah 's you gwine?
+ Co'se you knows dat possum's mine!
+
+
+NORA: A SERENADE
+
+ Ah, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away,
+ While Night like a spirit steals up o'er the hills;
+ The thrush from his tree where he chanted all day,
+ No longer his music in ecstasy trills.
+ Then, Nora, be near me; thy presence doth cheer me,
+ Thine eye hath a gleam that is truer than gold.
+
+ I cannot but love thee; so do not reprove me,
+ If the strength of my passion should make me too bold.
+ Nora, pride of my heart--
+ Rosy cheeks, cherry lips, sparkling with glee,--
+ Wake from thy slumbers, wherever thou art;
+ Wake from thy slumbers to me.
+
+ Ah, Nora, my Nora, there 's love in the air,--
+ It stirs in the numbers that thrill in my brain;
+ Oh, sweet, sweet is love with its mingling of care,
+ Though joy travels only a step before pain.
+ Be roused from thy slumbers and list to my numbers;
+ My heart is poured out in this song unto thee.
+ Oh, be thou not cruel, thou treasure, thou jewel;
+ Turn thine ear to my pleading and hearken to me.
+
+
+OCTOBER
+
+ October is the treasurer of the year,
+ And all the months pay bounty to her store;
+ The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
+ And fill her brimming coffers more and more.
+ But she, with youthful lavishness,
+ Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
+ And decks herself in garments bold
+ Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
+
+ She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
+ But smiles and sings her happy life along;
+ She only sees above a shining sky;
+ She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
+ Her garments trail the woodlands through,
+ And gather pearls of early dew
+ That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
+ Creeps up and steals them every one.
+
+ But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
+ When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
+ Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
+ Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
+ Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
+ She lives her life out joyously,
+ Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
+ And turns her auburn locks to gray.
+
+
+A SUMMER'S NIGHT
+
+ The night is dewy as a maiden's mouth,
+ The skies are bright as are a maiden's eyes,
+ Soft as a maiden's breath the wind that flies
+ Up from the perfumed bosom of the South.
+ Like sentinels, the pines stand in the park;
+ And hither hastening, like rakes that roam,
+ With lamps to light their wayward footsteps home,
+ The fireflies come stagg'ring down the dark.
+
+
+SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT
+
+ Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing;
+ I look far out into the pregnant night,
+ Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
+ And catch the gleaming of a random light,
+ That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.
+
+ My tearful eyes my soul's deep hurt are glassing;
+ For I would hail and check that ship of ships.
+ I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud,
+ My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips,
+ And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing.
+
+ O Earth, O Sky, O Ocean, both surpassing,
+ O heart of mine, O soul that dreads the dark!
+ Is there no hope for me? Is there no way
+ That I may sight and check that speeding bark
+ Which out of sight and sound is passing, passing?
+
+
+THE DELINQUENT
+
+ Goo'-by, Jinks, I got to hump,
+ Got to mek dis pony jump;
+ See dat sun a-goin' down
+ 'N' me a-foolin' hyeah in town!
+ Git up, Suke--go long!
+
+ Guess Mirandy'll think I's tight,
+ Me not home an' comin' on night.
+ What 's dat stan'in' by de fence?
+ Pshaw! why don't I lu'n some sense?
+ Git up, Suke--go long!
+
+ Guess I spent down dah at Jinks'
+ Mos' a dollah fur de drinks.
+ Bless yo'r soul, you see dat star?
+ Lawd, but won't Mirandy rar?
+ Git up, Suke--go long!
+
+ Went dis mo'nin', hyeah it 's night,
+ Dah 's de cabin dah in sight.
+ Who's dat stan'in' in de do'?
+ Dat must be Mirandy, sho',
+ Git up, Suke--go long!
+
+ Got de close-stick in huh han',
+ Dat look funny, goodness lan',
+ Sakes alibe, but she look glum!
+ Hyeah, Mirandy, hyeah I come!
+ Git up, Suke--go long!
+
+ Ef 't had n't a' b'en fur you, you slow ole fool, I 'd a' be'n home
+ long fo' now!
+
+
+DAWN
+
+ An angel, robed in spotless white,
+ Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.
+ Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
+ Men saw the blush and called it Dawn.
+
+
+A DROWSY DAY
+
+ The air is dark, the sky is gray,
+ The misty shadows come and go,
+ And here within my dusky room
+ Each chair looks ghostly in the gloom.
+ Outside the rain falls cold and slow--
+ Half-stinging drops, half-blinding spray.
+
+ Each slightest sound is magnified,
+ For drowsy quiet holds her reign;
+ The burnt stick in the fireplace breaks,
+ The nodding cat with start awakes,
+ And then to sleep drops off again,
+ Unheeding Towser at her side.
+
+ I look far out across the lawn,
+ Where huddled stand the silly sheep;
+ My work lies idle at my hands,
+ My thoughts fly out like scattered strands
+ Of thread, and on the verge of sleep--
+ Still half awake--I dream and yawn.
+
+ What spirits rise before my eyes!
+ How various of kind and form!
+ Sweet memories of days long past,
+ The dreams of youth that could not last,
+ Each smiling calm, each raging storm,
+ That swept across my early skies.
+
+ Half seen, the bare, gaunt-fingered boughs
+ Before my window sweep and sway,
+ And chafe in tortures of unrest.
+ My chin sinks down upon my breast;
+ I cannot work on such a day,
+ But only sit and dream and drowse.
+
+
+DIRGE
+
+ Place this bunch of mignonette
+ In her cold, dead hand;
+ When the golden sun is set,
+ Where the poplars stand,
+ Bury her from sun and day,
+ Lay my little love away
+ From my sight.
+
+ She was like a modest flower
+ Blown in sunny June,
+ Warm as sun at noon's high hour,
+ Chaster than the moon.
+ Ah, her day was brief and bright,
+ Earth has lost a star of light;
+ She is dead.
+
+ Softly breathe her name to me,--
+ Ah, I loved her so.
+ Gentle let your tribute be;
+ None may better know
+ Her true worth than I who weep
+ O'er her as she lies asleep--
+ Soft asleep.
+
+ Lay these lilies on her breast,
+ They are not more white
+ Than the soul of her, at rest
+ 'Neath their petals bright.
+ Chant your aves soft and low,
+ Solemn be your tread and slow,--
+ She is dead.
+
+ Lay her here beneath the grass,
+ Cool and green and sweet,
+ Where the gentle brook may pass
+ Crooning at her feet.
+ Nature's bards shall come and sing,
+ And the fairest flowers shall spring
+ Where she lies.
+
+ Safe above the water's swirl,
+ She has crossed the bar;
+ Earth has lost a precious pearl,
+ Heaven has gained a star,
+ That shall ever sing and shine,
+ Till it quells this grief of mine
+ For my love.
+
+
+HYMN
+
+ When storms arise
+ And dark'ning skies
+ About me threat'ning lower,
+ To thee, O Lord, I raise mine eyes,
+ To thee my tortured spirit flies
+ For solace in that hour.
+
+ The mighty arm
+ Will let no harm
+ Come near me nor befall me;
+ Thy voice shall quiet my alarm,
+ When life's great battle waxeth warm--
+ No foeman shall appall me.
+
+ Upon thy breast
+ Secure I rest,
+ From sorrow and vexation;
+ No more by sinful cares oppressed,
+ But in thy presence ever blest,
+ O God of my salvation.
+
+
+PREPARATION
+
+ The little bird sits in the nest and sings
+ A shy, soft song to the morning light;
+ And it flutters a little and prunes its wings.
+ The song is halting and poor and brief,
+ And the fluttering wings scarce stir a leaf;
+ But the note is a prelude to sweeter things,
+ And the busy bill and the flutter slight
+ Are proving the wings for a bolder flight!
+
+
+THE DESERTED PLANTATION
+
+ Oh, de grubbin'-hoe 's a-rustin' in de co'nah,
+ An' de plow 's a-tumblin' down in de fiel',
+ While de whippo'will 's a-wailin' lak a mou'nah
+ When his stubbo'n hea't is tryin' ha'd to yiel'.
+
+ In de furrers whah de co'n was allus wavin',
+ Now de weeds is growin' green an' rank an' tall;
+ An' de swallers roun' de whole place is a-bravin'
+ Lak dey thought deir folks had allus owned it all.
+
+ An' de big house stan's all quiet lak an' solemn,
+ Not a blessed soul in pa'lor, po'ch, er lawn;
+ Not a guest, ner not a ca'iage lef' to haul 'em,
+ Fu' de ones dat tu'ned de latch-string out air gone.
+
+ An' de banjo's voice is silent in de qua'ters,
+ D' ain't a hymn ner co'n-song ringin' in de air;
+ But de murmur of a branch's passin' waters
+ Is de only soun' dat breks de stillness dere.
+
+ Whah 's de da'kies, dem dat used to be a-dancin'
+ Evry night befo' de ole cabin do'?
+ Whah 's de chillun, dem dat used to be a-prancin'
+ Er a-rollin' in de san' er on de flo'?
+
+ Whah 's ole Uncle Mordecai an' Uncle Aaron?
+ Whah 's Aunt Doshy, Sam, an' Kit, an' all de res'?
+ Whah 's ole Tom de da'ky fiddlah, how 's he farin'?
+ Whah 's de gals dat used to sing an' dance de bes'?
+
+ Gone! not one o' dem is lef' to tell de story;
+ Dey have lef' de deah ole place to fall away.
+ Could n't one o' dem dat seed it in its glory
+ Stay to watch it in de hour of decay?
+
+ Dey have lef' de ole plantation to de swallers,
+ But it hol's in me a lover till de las';
+ Fu' I fin' hyeah in de memory dat follers
+ All dat loved me an' dat I loved in de pas'.
+
+ So I'll stay an' watch de deah ole place an' tend it
+ Ez I used to in de happy days gone by.
+ 'Twell de othah Mastah thinks it's time to end it,
+ An' calls me to my qua'ters in de sky.
+
+
+THE SECRET
+
+ What says the wind to the waving trees?
+ What says the wave to the river?
+ What means the sigh in the passing breeze?
+ Why do the rushes quiver?
+ Have you not heard the fainting cry
+ Of the flowers that said "Good-bye, good-bye"?
+
+ List how the gray dove moans and grieves
+ Under the woodland cover;
+ List to the drift of the falling leaves,
+ List to the wail of the lover.
+ Have you not caught the message heard
+ Already by wave and breeze and bird?
+
+ Come, come away to the river's bank,
+ Come in the early morning;
+ Come when the grass with dew is dank,
+ There you will find the warning--
+ A hint in the kiss of the quickening air
+ Of the secret that birds and breezes bear.
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE SEA
+
+ I stood by the shore at the death of day,
+ As the sun sank flaming red;
+ And the face of the waters that spread away
+ Was as gray as the face of the dead.
+
+ And I heard the cry of the wanton sea
+ And the moan of the wailing wind;
+ For love's sweet pain in his heart had he,
+ But the gray old sea had sinned.
+
+ The wind was young and the sea was old,
+ But their cries went up together;
+ The wind was warm and the sea was cold,
+ For age makes wintry weather.
+
+ So they cried aloud and they wept amain,
+ Till the sky grew dark to hear it;
+ And out of its folds crept the misty rain,
+ In its shroud, like a troubled spirit.
+
+ For the wind was wild with a hopeless love,
+ And the sea was sad at heart
+ At many a crime that he wot of,
+ Wherein he had played his part.
+
+ He thought of the gallant ships gone down
+ By the will of his wicked waves;
+ And he thought how the church-yard in the town
+ Held the sea-made widows' graves.
+
+ The wild wind thought of the love he had left
+ Afar in an Eastern land,
+ And he longed, as long the much bereft,
+ For the touch of her perfumed hand.
+
+ In his winding wail and his deep-heaved sigh
+ His aching grief found vent;
+ While the sea looked up at the bending sky
+ And murmured: "I repent."
+
+ But e'en as he spoke, a ship came by
+ That bravely ploughed the main,
+ And a light came into the sea's green eye,
+ And his heart grew hard again.
+
+ Then he spoke to the wind: "Friend, seest thou not
+ Yon vessel is eastward bound?
+ Pray speed with it to the happy spot
+ Where thy loved one may be found."
+
+ And the wind rose up in a dear delight,
+ And after the good ship sped;
+ But the crafty sea by his wicked might
+ Kept the vessel ever ahead.
+
+ Till the wind grew fierce in his despair,
+ And white on the brow and lip.
+ He tore his garments and tore his hair,
+ And fell on the flying ship.
+
+ And the ship went down, for a rock was there,
+ And the sailless sea loomed black;
+ While burdened again with dole and care,
+ The wind came moaning back.
+
+ And still he moans from his bosom hot
+ Where his raging grief lies pent,
+ And ever when the ships come not,
+ The sea says: "I repent."
+
+
+RIDING TO TOWN
+
+ When labor is light and the morning is fair,
+ I find it a pleasure beyond all compare
+ To hitch up my nag and go hurrying down
+ And take Katie May for a ride into town;
+ For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
+ But tra-la-la-la our lay.
+ There's joy in a song as we rattle along
+ In the light of the glorious day.
+
+ A coach would be fine, but a spring wagon's good;
+ My jeans are a match for Kate's gingham and hood;
+ The hills take us up and the vales take us down,
+ But what matters that? we are riding to town,
+ And bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
+ But tra-la-la-la sing we.
+ There's never a care may live in the air
+ That is filled with the breath of our glee.
+
+ And after we've started, there's naught can repress
+ The thrill of our hearts in their wild happiness;
+ The heavens may smile or the heavens may frown,
+ And it's all one to us when we're riding to town.
+ For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
+ But tra-la-la-la we shout,
+ For our hearts they are clear and there 's nothing to fear,
+ And we've never a pain nor a doubt.
+
+ The wagon is weak and the roadway is rough,
+ And tho' it is long it is not long enough,
+ For mid all my ecstasies this is the crown
+ To sit beside Katie and ride into town,
+ When bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
+ But tra-la-la-la our song;
+ And if I had my way, I 'd be willing to pay
+ If the road could be made twice as long.
+
+
+WE WEAR THE MASK
+
+ We wear the mask that grins and lies,
+ It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
+ This debt we pay to human guile;
+ With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
+ And mouth with myriad subtleties.
+
+ Why should the world be over-wise,
+ In counting all our tears and sighs?
+ Nay, let them only see us, while
+ We wear the mask.
+
+ We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
+ To thee from tortured souls arise.
+ We sing, but oh the clay is vile
+ Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
+ But let the world dream otherwise,
+ We wear the mask!
+
+
+THE MEADOW LARK
+
+ Though the winds be dank,
+ And the sky be sober,
+ And the grieving Day
+ In a mantle gray
+ Hath let her waiting maiden robe her,--
+ All the fields along
+ I can hear the song
+ Of the meadow lark,
+ As she flits and flutters,
+ And laughs at the thunder when it mutters.
+ O happy bird, of heart most gay
+ To sing when skies are gray!
+
+ When the clouds are full,
+ And the tempest master
+ Lets the loud winds sweep
+ From his bosom deep
+ Like heralds of some dire disaster,
+ Then the heart alone
+ To itself makes moan;
+ And the songs come slow,
+ While the tears fall fleeter,
+ And silence than song by far seems sweeter.
+ Oh, few are they along the way
+ Who sing when skies are gray!
+
+
+ONE LIFE
+
+ Oh, I am hurt to death, my Love;
+ The shafts of Fate have pierced my striving heart,
+ And I am sick and weary of
+ The endless pain and smart.
+ My soul is weary of the strife,
+ And chafes at life, and chafes at life.
+
+ Time mocks me with fair promises;
+ A blooming future grows a barren past,
+ Like rain my fair full-blossomed trees
+ Unburden in the blast.
+ The harvest fails on grain and tree,
+ Nor comes to me, nor comes to me.
+
+ The stream that bears my hopes abreast
+ Turns ever from my way its pregnant tide.
+ My laden boat, torn from its rest,
+ Drifts to the other side.
+ So all my hopes are set astray,
+ And drift away, and drift away.
+
+ The lark sings to me at the morn,
+ And near me wings her skyward-soaring flight;
+ But pleasure dies as soon as born,
+ The owl takes up the night,
+ And night seems long and doubly dark;
+ I miss the lark, I miss the lark.
+
+ Let others labor as they may,
+ I'll sing and sigh alone, and write my line.
+ Their fate is theirs, or grave or gay,
+ And mine shall still be mine.
+ I know the world holds joy and glee,
+ But not for me,--'t is not for me.
+
+
+CHANGING TIME
+
+ The cloud looked in at the window,
+ And said to the day, "Be dark!"
+ And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,
+ To stifle the song of the lark.
+
+ The wind sprang up in the tree tops
+ And shrieked with a voice of death,
+ But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees,
+ Was touched with a violet's breath.
+
+
+DEAD
+
+ A knock is at her door, but she is weak;
+ Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek;
+ She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known,
+ And knows that he will find her all alone.
+ So opens he the door, and with soft tread
+ Goes straightway to the richly curtained bed.
+ His soft hand on her dewy head he lays.
+ A strange white light she gives him for his gaze.
+ Then, looking on the glory of her charms,
+ He crushes her resistless in his arms.
+
+ Stand back! look not upon this bold embrace,
+ Nor view the calmness of the wanton's face;
+ With joy unspeakable and 'bated breath,
+ She keeps her last, long liaison with death!
+
+
+A CONFIDENCE
+
+ Uncle John, he makes me tired;
+ Thinks 'at he's jest so all-fired
+ Smart, 'at he kin pick up, so,
+ Ever'thing he wants to know.
+ Tried to ketch me up last night,
+ But you bet I would n't bite.
+ I jest kep' the smoothes' face,
+ But I led him sich a chase,
+ Could n't corner me, you bet--
+ I skipped all the traps he set.
+ Makin' out he wan'ed to know
+ Who was this an' that girl's beau;
+ So 's he 'd find out, don't you see,
+ Who was goin' 'long with me.
+ But I answers jest ez sly,
+ An' I never winks my eye,
+ Tell he hollers with a whirl,
+ "Look here, ain't you got a girl?"
+ Y' ought 'o seen me spread my eyes,
+ Like he 'd took me by surprise,
+ An' I said, "Oh, Uncle John,
+ Never thought o' havin' one."
+ An' somehow that seemed to tickle
+ Him an' he shelled out a nickel.
+ Then you ought to seen me leave
+ Jest a-laffin' in my sleeve.
+ Fool him--well, I guess I did;
+ He ain't on to this here kid.
+ Got a girl! well, I guess yes,
+ Got a dozen more or less,
+ But I got one reely one,
+ Not no foolin' ner no fun;
+ Fur I 'm sweet on her, you see,
+ An' I ruther guess 'at she
+ Must be kinder sweet on me,
+ So we 're keepin' company.
+ Honest Injun! this is true,
+ Ever' word I 'm tellin' you!
+ But you won't be sich a scab
+ Ez to run aroun' an' blab.
+ Mebbe 't ain't the way with you,
+ But you know some fellers do.
+ Spoils a girl to let her know
+ 'At you talk about her so.
+ Don't you know her? her name 's Liz,
+ Nicest girl in town she is.
+ Purty? ah, git out, you gilly--
+ Liz 'ud purt 'nigh knock you silly.
+ Y' ought 'o see her when she 's dressed
+ All up in her Sunday best,
+ All the fellers nudgin' me,
+ An' a-whisperin', gemunee!
+ Betcher life 'at I feel proud
+ When she passes by the crowd.
+ 'T 's kinder nice to be a-goin'
+ With a girl 'at makes some showin'--
+ One you know 'at hain't no snide,
+ Makes you feel so satisfied.
+ An' I 'll tell you she 's a trump,
+ Never even seen her jump
+ Like some silly girls 'ud do,
+ When I 'd hide and holler "Boo!"
+ She 'd jest laff an' say "Git out!
+ What you hollerin' about?"
+ When some girls 'ud have a fit
+ That 'un don't git skeered a bit,
+ Never makes a bit o' row
+ When she sees a worm er cow.
+ Them kind 's few an' far between;
+ Bravest girl I ever seen.
+ Tell you 'nuther thing she 'll do,
+ Mebbe you won't think it 's true,
+ But if she 's jest got a dime
+ She 'll go halvers ever' time.
+ Ah, you goose, you need n't laff;
+ That's the kinder girl to have.
+ If you knowed her like I do,
+ Guess you 'd kinder like her too.
+ Tell you somep'n' if you 'll swear
+ You won't tell it anywhere.
+ Oh, you got to cross yer heart
+ Earnest, truly, 'fore I start.
+ Well, one day I kissed her cheek;
+ Gee, but I felt cheap an' weak,
+ 'Cause at first she kinder flared,
+ 'N', gracious goodness! I was scared.
+ But I need n't been, fer la!
+ Why, she never told her ma.
+ That's what I call grit, don't you?
+ Sich a girl's worth stickin' to.
+
+
+PHYLLIS
+
+ Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,
+ Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,
+ Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,
+ Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew--
+ Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
+
+ Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!
+ Only the cloud hangeth over my life.
+ Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday
+ Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife;
+ Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
+
+ Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,
+ Life must be lived as our destinies rule;
+ Leisure or labor or work day or play day--
+ Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;
+ Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
+
+
+RIGHT'S SECURITY
+
+ What if the wind do howl without,
+ And turn the creaking weather-vane;
+ What if the arrows of the rain
+ Do beat against the window-pane?
+ Art thou not armored strong and fast
+ Against the sallies of the blast?
+ Art thou not sheltered safe and well
+ Against the flood's insistent swell?
+
+ What boots it, that thou stand'st alone,
+ And laughest in the battle's face
+ When all the weak have fled the place
+ And let their feet and fears keep pace?
+ Thou wavest still thine ensign, high,
+ And shoutest thy loud battle-cry;
+ Higher than e'er the tempest roared,
+ It cleaves the silence like a sword.
+
+ Right arms and armors, too, that man
+ Who will not compromise with wrong;
+ Though single, he must front the throng,
+ And wage the battle hard and long.
+ Minorities, since time began,
+ Have shown the better side of man;
+ And often in the lists of Time
+ One man has made a cause sublime!
+
+
+IF
+
+ If life were but a dream, my Love,
+ And death the waking time;
+ If day had not a beam, my Love,
+ And night had not a rhyme,--
+ A barren, barren world were this
+ Without one saving gleam;
+ I 'd only ask that with a kiss
+ You 'd wake me from the dream.
+
+ If dreaming were the sum of days,
+ And loving were the bane;
+ If battling for a wreath of bays
+ Could soothe a heart in pain,--
+ I 'd scorn the meed of battle's might,
+ All other aims above
+ I 'd choose the human's higher right,
+ To suffer and to love!
+
+
+THE SONG
+
+ My soul, lost in the music's mist,
+ Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst.
+ The cheerless streets grew summer meads,
+ The Son of Phoebus spurred his steeds,
+ And, wand'ring down the mazy tune,
+ December lost its way in June,
+ While from a verdant vale I heard
+ The piping of a love-lorn bird.
+
+ A something in the tender strain
+ Revived an old, long-conquered pain,
+ And as in depths of many seas,
+ My heart was drowned in memories.
+ The tears came welling to my eyes,
+ Nor could I ask it otherwise;
+ For, oh! a sweetness seems to last
+ Amid the dregs of sorrows past.
+
+ It stirred a chord that here of late
+ I 'd grown to think could not vibrate.
+ It brought me back the trust of youth,
+ The world again was joy and truth.
+ And Avice, blooming like a bride,
+ Once more stood trusting at my side.
+ But still, with bosom desolate,
+ The lorn bird sang to find his mate.
+
+ Then there are trees, and lights and stars,
+ The silv'ry tinkle of guitars;
+ And throbs again as throbbed that waltz,
+ Before I knew that hearts were false.
+ Then like a cold wave on a shore,
+ Comes silence and she sings no more.
+ I wake, I breathe, I think again,
+ And walk the sordid ways of men.
+
+
+SIGNS OF THE TIMES
+
+ Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
+ Frost a-comin' in de night,
+ Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
+ Possum keepin' out o' sight.
+ Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd,
+ Nary step so proud ez his;
+ Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,
+ Yo' do' know whut time it is.
+
+ Cidah press commence a-squeakin'
+ Eatin' apples sto'ed away,
+ Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,
+ Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.
+ Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'
+ At de geese a-flyin' souf,
+ Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin';
+ Ef he did he 'd shet his mouf.
+
+ Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallah
+ Mek me open up my eyes;
+ Seems lak it's a-lookin' at me
+ Jes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies."
+ Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',
+ Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack;
+ Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,
+ You ain't seed no almanac.
+
+ Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'd
+ Seein' how things is comin' on,
+ Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin'--
+ Good times comin' sho 's you bo'n.
+ Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',
+ Den his face break in a smile--
+ Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,
+ He 's gwine nab you atter while.
+
+ Choppin' suet in de kitchen,
+ Stonin' raisins in de hall,
+ Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,
+ Spices groun'--I smell 'em all.
+ Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',
+ You ain' luned de sense ob feah,
+ You ol' fool, yo' naik 's in dangah,
+ Do' you know Thanksgibbin 's hyeah?
+
+
+WHY FADES A DREAM?
+
+ Why fades a dream?
+ An iridescent ray
+ Flecked in between the tryst
+ Of night and day.
+ Why fades a dream?--
+ Of consciousness the shade
+ Wrought out by lack of light and made
+ Upon life's stream.
+ Why fades a dream?
+
+ That thought may thrive,
+ So fades the fleshless dream;
+ Lest men should learn to trust
+ The things that seem.
+ So fades a dream,
+ That living thought may grow
+ And like a waxing star-beam glow
+ Upon life's stream--
+ So fades a dream.
+
+
+THE SPARROW
+
+ A little bird, with plumage brown,
+ Beside my window flutters down,
+ A moment chirps its little strain,
+ Ten taps upon my window-pane,
+ And chirps again, and hops along,
+ To call my notice to its song;
+ But I work on, nor heed its lay,
+ Till, in neglect, it flies away.
+
+ So birds of peace and hope and love
+ Come fluttering earthward from above,
+ To settle on life's window-sills,
+ And ease our load of earthly ills;
+ But we, in traffic's rush and din
+ Too deep engaged to let them in,
+ With deadened heart and sense plod on,
+ Nor know our loss till they are gone.
+
+
+SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS
+
+ Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk,
+ Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,
+ Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,
+ Not enough to make things white,
+ But jest sorter siftin' down
+ So 's to cover up the brown
+ Of the dark world's rugged ways
+ 'N' make things look like holidays.
+ Not smoothed over, but jest specked,
+ Sorter strainin' fur effect,
+ An' not quite a-gittin' through
+ What it started in to do.
+ Mercy sakes! it does seem queer
+ Christmas day is 'most nigh here.
+ Somehow it don't seem to me
+ Christmas like it used to be,--
+ Christmas with its ice an' snow,
+ Christmas of the long ago.
+ You could feel its stir an' hum
+ Weeks an' weeks before it come;
+ Somethin' in the atmosphere
+ Told you when the day was near,
+ Did n't need no almanacs;
+ That was one o' Nature's fac's.
+ Every cottage decked out gay--
+ Cedar wreaths an' holly spray--
+ An' the stores, how they were drest,
+ Tinsel tell you could n't rest;
+ Every winder fixed up pat,
+ Candy canes, an' things like that;
+ Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls,
+ An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols.
+ Then with frosty bells a-chime,
+ Slidin' down the hills o' time,
+ Right amidst the fun an' din
+ Christmas come a-bustlin' in,
+ Raised his cheery voice to call
+ Out a welcome to us all;
+ Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff,
+ That was Christmas, sure enough.
+ Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine,
+ Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,
+ Seemin' jest to lay in wait,
+ Beggin' you to come an' skate.
+ An' you 'd git your gal an' go
+ Stumpin' cheerily thro' the snow,
+ Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm
+ 'Cause she had a-holt yore arm.
+ Why, when Christmas come in, we
+ Spent the whole glad day in glee,
+ Havin' fun an' feastin' high
+ An' some courtin' on the sly.
+ Bustin' in some neighbor's door
+ An' then suddenly, before
+ He could give his voice a lift,
+ Yellin' at him, "Christmas gift."
+ Now sich things are never heard,
+ "Merry Christmas" is the word.
+ But it's only change o' name,
+ An' means givin' jest the same.
+ There 's too many new-styled ways
+ Now about the holidays.
+ I 'd jest like once more to see
+ Christmas like it used to be!
+
+
+LONESOME
+
+ Mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two,
+ An', oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flew
+ To other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bare
+ That the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.
+ The shetters flap more lazy-like 'n what they used to do,
+ Sence mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
+
+ We 've killed the fattest chicken an' we've cooked her to a turn;
+ We 've made the richest gravy, but I jest don't give a durn
+ Fur nothin' 'at I drink er eat, er nothin' 'at I see.
+ The food ain't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me.
+ They 's somep'n' stickin' in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue,
+ Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
+
+ The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they 're double ones at that,
+ An' I wuz prouder of 'em than a baby of a cat.
+ But now I don't go near 'em, though they nod an' blush at me,
+ Fur they 's somep'n' seems to gall me in their keerless sort o' glee
+ An' all their fren'ly noddin' an' their blushin' seems to say:
+ "You 're purty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother 's gone away."
+
+ The neighbors ain't so fren'ly ez it seems they 'd ort to be;
+ They seem to be a-lookin' kinder sideways like at me,
+ A-kinder feared they 'd tech me off ez ef I wuz a match,
+ An' all because 'at mother 's gone an' I 'm a-keepin' batch!
+ I 'm shore I don't do nothin' worse 'n what I used to do
+ 'Fore mother went a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
+
+ The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an' won't hop quite so near,
+ The cricket's chirp is sadder, an' the sky ain't ha'f so clear;
+ When ev'nin' comes, I set an' smoke tell my eyes begin to swim,
+ An' things aroun' commence to look all blurred an' faint an' dim.
+ Well, I guess I 'll have to own up 'at I 'm feelin' purty blue
+ Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
+
+
+GROWIN' GRAY
+
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,
+ An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
+ 'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
+ Tho' it ought n't to cause me no su'prise,
+ Fur there 's many a sun 'at you 've seen rise
+ An' many a one you 've seen go down
+ Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
+ An' storms an' snows have had their way--
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
+
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,
+ An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to play
+ Are dreams of a far past long ago
+ That lie in a heart where the fires burn low--
+ That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
+ An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,
+ Beats bravely on forever warm.
+ December holds the place of May--
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
+
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray--
+ Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?
+ For, after all, when the tale is told,
+ Love proves if a man is young or old!
+ Old age can't make the heart grow cold
+ When it does the will of an honest mind;
+ When it beats with love fur all mankind;
+ Then the night but leads to a fairer day--
+ Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray!
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MARY YOUNG
+
+ God has his plans, and what if we
+ With our sight be too blind to see
+ Their full fruition; cannot he,
+ Who made it, solve the mystery?
+ One whom we loved has fall'n asleep,
+ Not died; although her calm be deep,
+ Some new, unknown, and strange surprise
+ In Heaven holds enrapt her eyes.
+
+ And can you blame her that her gaze
+ Is turned away from earthly ways,
+ When to her eyes God's light and love
+ Have giv'n the view of things above?
+ A gentle spirit sweetly good,
+ The pearl of precious womanhood;
+ Who heard the voice of duty clear,
+ And found her mission soon and near.
+
+ She loved all nature, flowers fair,
+ The warmth of sun, the kiss of air,
+ The birds that filled the sky with song,
+ The stream that laughed its way along.
+ Her home to her was shrine and throne,
+ But one love held her not alone;
+ She sought out poverty and grief,
+ Who touched her robe and found relief.
+
+ So sped she in her Master's work,
+ Too busy and too brave to shirk,
+ When through the silence, dusk and dim,
+ God called her and she fled to him.
+ We wonder at the early call,
+ And tears of sorrow can but fall
+ For her o'er whom we spread the pall;
+ But faith, sweet faith, is over all.
+
+ The house is dust, the voice is dumb,
+ But through undying years to come,
+ The spark that glowed within her soul
+ Shall light our footsteps to the goal.
+ She went her way; but oh, she trod
+ The path that led her straight to God.
+ Such lives as this put death to scorn;
+ They lose our day to find God's morn.
+
+
+WHEN MALINDY SINGS
+
+ G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy--
+ Put dat music book away;
+ What's de use to keep on tryin'?
+ Ef you practise twell you 're gray,
+ You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'
+ Lak de ones dat rants and rings
+ F'om de kitchen to be big woods
+ When Malindy sings.
+
+ You ain't got de nachel o'gans
+ Fu' to make de soun' come right,
+ You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's
+ Fu' to make it sweet an' light.
+ Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
+ An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,
+ When hit comes to raal right singin',
+ 'T ain't no easy thing to do.
+
+ Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,
+ Lookin' at de lines an' dots,
+ When dey ain't no one kin sence it,
+ An' de chune comes in, in spots;
+ But fu' real melojous music,
+ Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,
+ Jes' you stan' an' listen wif me
+ When Malindy sings.
+
+ Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?
+ Blessed soul, tek up de cross!
+ Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?
+ Well, you don't know whut you los'.
+ Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',
+ Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,
+ Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces
+ When Malindy sings.
+
+ Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',
+ Lay his fiddle on de she'f;
+ Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,
+ 'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.
+ Folks a-playin' on de banjo
+ Draps dey fingahs on de strings--
+ Bless yo' soul--fu'gits to move em,
+ When Malindy sings.
+
+ She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,
+ "Come to Jesus," twell you hyeah
+ Sinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,
+ Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;
+ Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"
+ Simply to de cross she clings,
+ An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'
+ When Malindy sings.
+
+ Who dat says dat humble praises
+ Wif de Master nevah counts?
+ Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,
+ Ez hit rises up an' mounts--
+ Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,
+ Way above dis buryin' sod,
+ Ez hit makes its way in glory
+ To de very gates of God!
+
+ Oh, hit's sweetah dan de music
+ Of an edicated band;
+ An' hit's dearah dan de battle's
+ Song o' triumph in de lan'.
+ It seems holier dan evenin'
+ When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,
+ Ez I sit an' ca'mly listen
+ While Malindy sings.
+
+ Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!
+ Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;
+ Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'
+ F'om de valley to de hill?
+ Let me listen, I can hyeah it,
+ Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,
+ Sof an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"
+ Ez Malindy sings.
+
+
+THE PARTY
+
+ Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
+ Was I dah? You bet! I nevah in my life see sich a sight;
+ All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,
+ Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum.
+ Evahbody dressed deir fines'--Heish yo' mouf an' git away,
+ Ain't seen no sich fancy dressin' sence las' quah'tly meetin' day;
+ Gals all dressed in silks an' satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,
+ Eyes a-battin', teeth a-shinin', haih breshed back ez slick ez grease;
+ Sku'ts all tucked an' puffed an' ruffled, evah blessed seam an' stitch;
+ Ef you 'd seen 'em wif deir mistus, could n't swahed to which was which.
+ Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!
+ I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.
+ Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know?
+ You mus' think I stood an' counted evahbody at de do.'
+ Ole man Babah's house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,
+ Huh a-hangin' to his elbow, him a-struttin' wif a cane;
+ My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho'n;
+ But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin' ha'd to not let on,
+ But a pusson would 'a' noticed f'om de d'rection of his look,
+ Dat he was watchin' ev'ry step dat Ike an' Lindy took.
+ Ike he foun' a cheer an' asked huh: "Won't you set down?" wif a smile,
+ An' she answe'd up a-bowin', "Oh, I reckon 't ain't wuth while."
+ Dat was jes' fu' Style, I reckon, 'cause she sot down jes' de same,
+ An' she stayed dah 'twell he fetched huh fu' to jine some so't o' game;
+ Den I hyeahd huh sayin' propah, ez she riz to go away,
+ "Oh, you raly mus' excuse me, fu' I hardly keers to play."
+ But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo',
+ An' dah wasn't any one o' dem a-playin' any mo';
+ Comin' down de flo' a-bowin' an' a-swayin' an' a-swingin',
+ Puttin' on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin':
+ "Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
+ Swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
+ Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun'
+ Fa' you well, my dahlin'."
+ Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he 's a caution now, you bet--
+ Hittin' clost onto a hunderd, but he 's spry an' nimble yet;
+ He 'lowed how a-so't o' gigglin', "I ain't ole, I 'll let you see,
+ D'ain't no use in gittin' feeble, now you youngstahs jes' watch me,"
+ An' he grabbed ole Aunt Marier--weighs th'ee hunderd mo' er less,
+ An' he spun huh 'roun' de cabin swingin' Johnny lak de res'.
+ Evahbody laffed an' hollahed: "Go it! Swing huh, Uncle Jim!"
+ An' he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him.
+ Dat was bettah 'n young Scott Thomas, tryin' to be so awful smaht.
+ You know when dey gits to singin' an' dey comes to dat ere paht:
+ "In some lady's new brick house,
+ In some lady's gyahden.
+ Ef you don't let me out, I will jump out,
+ So fa' you well, my dahlin'."
+ Den dey 's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you's got to break de line;
+ Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';
+ Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,
+ Broke de line, an lit head-fo'most in de fiah-place right plump;
+ Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I 'd bust,
+ Tried my best to keep f'om laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!
+ Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime.
+ Did it bu'n him! Sich a question, why he did n't give it time;
+ Th'ow'd dem ashes and dem cindahs evah which-a-way I guess,
+ An' you nevah did, I reckon, clap yo' eyes on sich a mess;
+ Fu' he sholy made a picter an' a funny one to boot,
+ Wif his clothes all full o' ashes an' his face all full o' soot.
+ Well, hit laked to stopped de pahty, an' I reckon lak ez not
+ Dat it would ef Tom's wife, Mandy, had n't happened on de spot,
+ To invite us out to suppah--well, we scrambled to de table,
+ An' I 'd lak to tell you 'bout it--what we had--but I ain't able,
+ Mention jes' a few things, dough I know I had n't orter,
+ Fu' I know 't will staht a hank'rin' an' yo' mouf 'll 'mence to worter.
+ We had wheat bread white ez cotton an' a egg pone jes like gol',
+ Hog jole, bilin' hot an' steamin' roasted shoat an' ham sliced cold--
+ Look out! What's de mattah wif you? Don't be fallin' on de flo';
+ Ef it 's go'n' to 'fect you dat way, I won't tell you nothin' mo'.
+ Dah now--well, we had hot chittlin's--now you 's tryin' ag'in to fall,
+ Cain't you stan' to hyeah about it? S'pose you'd been an' seed it all;
+ Seed dem gread big sweet pertaters, layin' by de possum's side,
+ Seed dat coon in all his gravy, reckon den you 'd up and died!
+ Mandy 'lowed "you all mus' 'scuse me, d' wa'n't much upon my she'ves,
+ But I's done my bes' to suit you, so set down an' he'p yo'se'ves."
+ Tom, he 'lowed: "I don't b'lieve in 'pologisin' an' perfessin',
+ Let 'em tek it lak dey ketch it. Eldah Thompson, ask de blessin'."
+ Wish you 'd seed dat colo'ed preachah cleah his th'oat an' bow his head;
+ One eye shet, an' one eye open,--dis is evah wud he said:
+ "Lawd, look down in tendah mussy on sich generous hea'ts ez dese;
+ Make us truly thankful, amen. Pass dat possum, ef you please!"
+ Well, we eat and drunk ouah po'tion, 'twell dah was n't nothin' lef,
+ An' we felt jes' like new sausage, we was mos' nigh stuffed to def!
+ Tom, he knowed how we 'd be feelin', so he had de fiddlah 'roun',
+ An' he made us cleah de cabin fu' to dance dat suppah down.
+ Jim, de fiddlah, chuned his fiddle, put some rosum on his bow,
+ Set a pine box on de table, mounted it an' let huh go!
+ He's a fiddlah, now I tell you, an' he made dat fiddle ring,
+ 'Twell de ol'est an' de lamest had to give deir feet a fling.
+ Jigs, cotillions, reels an' breakdowns, cordrills an' a waltz er two;
+ Bless yo' soul, dat music winged 'em an' dem people lak to flew.
+ Cripple Joe, de old rheumatic, danced dat flo' f'om side to middle,
+ Th'owed away his crutch an' hopped it; what's rheumatics 'ginst a fiddle?
+ Eldah Thompson got so tickled dat he lak to los' his grace,
+ Had to tek bofe feet an' hol' dem so 's to keep 'em in deir place.
+ An' de Christuns an' de sinnahs got so mixed up on dat flo',
+ Dat I don't see how dey 'd pahted ef de trump had chanced to blow.
+ Well, we danced dat way an' capahed in de mos' redic'lous way,
+ 'Twell de roostahs in de bahnyard cleahed deir th'oats an' crowed fu' day.
+ Y' ought to been dah, fu' I tell you evahthing was rich an' prime,
+ An' dey ain't no use in talkin', we jes had one scrumptious time!
+
+
+
+
+LYRICS OF THE HEARTHSIDE
+
+
+LOVE'S APOTHEOSIS
+
+ Love me. I care not what the circling years
+ To me may do.
+ If, but in spite of time and tears,
+ You prove but true.
+
+ Love me--albeit grief shall dim mine eyes,
+ And tears bedew,
+ I shall not e'en complain, for then my skies
+ Shall still be blue.
+
+ Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile,
+ And leave me chill,
+ Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile,
+ A sun-kissed hill.
+
+ And when the days have lengthened into years,
+ And I grow old,
+ Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears,
+ Grow thou not cold.
+
+ Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill,
+ I say not down;
+ That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,--
+ To gain love's crown.
+
+ Love me, and let my life take up thine own,
+ As sun the dew.
+ Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throne
+ Awaits for you!
+
+
+THE PARADOX
+
+ I am the mother of sorrows,
+ I am the ender of grief;
+ I am the bud and the blossom,
+ I am the late-falling leaf.
+
+ I am thy priest and thy poet,
+ I am thy serf and thy king;
+ I cure the tears of the heartsick,
+ When I come near they shall sing.
+
+ White are my hands as the snowdrop;
+ Swart are my fingers as clay;
+ Dark is my frown as the midnight,
+ Fair is my brow as the day.
+
+ Battle and war are my minions,
+ Doing my will as divine;
+ I am the calmer of passions,
+ Peace is a nursling of mine.
+
+ Speak to me gently or curse me,
+ Seek me or fly from my sight;
+ I am thy fool in the morning,
+ Thou art my slave in the night.
+
+ Down to the grave will I take thee,
+ Out from the noise of the strife;
+ Then shalt thou see me and know me--
+ Death, then, no longer, but life.
+
+ Then shalt thou sing at my coming.
+ Kiss me with passionate breath,
+ Clasp me and smile to have thought me
+ Aught save the foeman of Death.
+
+ Come to me, brother, when weary,
+ Come when thy lonely heart swells;
+ I 'll guide thy footsteps and lead thee
+ Down where the Dream Woman dwells.
+
+
+OVER THE HILLS
+
+ Over the hills and the valleys of dreaming
+ Slowly I take my way.
+ Life is the night with its dream-visions teeming,
+ Death is the waking at day.
+
+ Down thro' the dales and the bowers of loving,
+ Singing, I roam afar.
+ Daytime or night-time, I constantly roving,--
+ Dearest one, thou art my star.
+
+
+WITH THE LARK
+
+ Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
+ Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
+ Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
+ Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
+ All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
+ I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
+
+ Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
+ Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
+ But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
+ I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
+ And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
+ I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
+
+ On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
+ Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
+ There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
+ For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
+ And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
+ I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
+
+
+IN SUMMER
+
+ Oh, summer has clothed the earth
+ In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
+ And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
+ And a belt where the rivers run.
+
+ And now for the kiss of the wind,
+ And the touch of the air's soft hands,
+ With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
+ With the freedom of lakes and lands.
+
+ I envy the farmer's boy
+ Who sings as he follows the plow;
+ While the shining green of the young blades lean
+ To the breezes that cool his brow.
+
+ He sings to the dewy morn,
+ No thought of another's ear;
+ But the song he sings is a chant for kings
+ And the whole wide world to hear.
+
+ He sings of the joys of life,
+ Of the pleasures of work and rest,
+ From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art;
+ 'T is a song of the merriest.
+
+ O ye who toil in the town,
+ And ye who moil in the mart,
+ Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
+ Shall renew your joy of heart.
+
+ Oh, poor were the worth of the world
+ If never a song were heard,--
+ If the sting of grief had no relief,
+ And never a heart were stirred.
+
+ So, long as the streams run down,
+ And as long as the robins trill,
+ Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
+ And sing in the face of ill.
+
+
+THE MYSTIC SEA
+
+ The smell of the sea in my nostrils,
+ The sound of the sea in mine ears;
+ The touch of the spray on my burning face,
+ Like the mist of reluctant tears.
+
+ The blue of the sky above me,
+ The green of the waves beneath;
+ The sun flashing down on a gray-white sail
+ Like a scimitar from its sheath.
+
+ And ever the breaking billows,
+ And ever the rocks' disdain;
+ And ever a thrill in mine inmost heart
+ That my reason cannot explain.
+
+ So I say to my heart, "Be silent,
+ The mystery of time is here;
+ Death's way will be plain when we fathom the main,
+ And the secret of life be clear."
+
+
+A SAILOR'S SONG
+
+ Oh for the breath of the briny deep,
+ And the tug of the bellying sail,
+ With the sea-gull's cry across the sky
+ And a passing boatman's hail.
+ For, be she fierce or be she gay,
+ The sea is a famous friend alway.
+
+ Ho! for the plains where the dolphins play,
+ And the bend of the mast and spars,
+ And a fight at night with the wild sea-sprite
+ When the foam has drowned the stars.
+ And, pray, what joy can the landsman feel
+ Like the rise and fall of a sliding keel?
+
+ Fair is the mead; the lawn is fair
+ And the birds sing sweet on the lea;
+ But the echo soft of a song aloft
+ Is the strain that pleases me;
+ And swish of rope and ring of chain
+ Are music to men who sail the main.
+
+ Then, if you love me, let me sail
+ While a vessel dares the deep;
+ For the ship 's my wife, and the breath of life
+ Are the raging gales that sweep;
+ And when I 'm done with calm and blast,
+ A slide o'er the side, and rest at last.
+
+
+THE BOHEMIAN
+
+ Bring me the livery of no other man.
+ I am my own to robe me at my pleasure.
+ Accepted rules to me disclose no treasure:
+ What is the chief who shall my garments plan?
+ No garb conventional but I 'll attack it.
+ (Come, why not don my spangled jacket?)
+
+
+ABSENCE
+
+ Good-night, my love, for I have dreamed of thee
+ In waking dreams, until my soul is lost--
+ Is lost in passion's wide and shoreless sea,
+ Where, like a ship, unruddered, it is tost
+ Hither and thither at the wild waves' will.
+ There is no potent Master's voice to still
+ This newer, more tempestuous Galilee!
+
+ The stormy petrels of my fancy fly
+ In warning course across the darkening green,
+ And, like a frightened bird, my heart doth cry
+ And seek to find some rock of rest between
+ The threatening sky and the relentless wave.
+ It is not length of life that grief doth crave,
+ But only calm and peace in which to die.
+
+ Here let me rest upon this single hope,
+ For oh, my wings are weary of the wind,
+ And with its stress no more may strive or cope.
+ One cry has dulled mine ears, mine eyes are blind,--
+ Would that o'er all the intervening space,
+ I might fly forth and see thee face to face.
+ I fly; I search, but, love, in gloom I grope.
+
+ Fly home, far bird, unto thy waiting nest;
+ Spread thy strong wings above the wind-swept sea.
+ Beat the grim breeze with thy unruffled breast
+ Until thou sittest wing to wing with me.
+ Then, let the past bring up its tales of wrong;
+ We shall chant low our sweet connubial song,
+ Till storm and doubt and past no more shall be!
+
+
+HER THOUGHT AND HIS
+
+ The gray of the sea, and the gray of the sky,
+ A glimpse of the moon like a half-closed eye.
+ The gleam on the waves and the light on the land,
+ A thrill in my heart,--and--my sweetheart's hand.
+
+ She turned from the sea with a woman's grace,
+ And the light fell soft on her upturned face,
+ And I thought of the flood-tide of infinite bliss
+ That would flow to my heart from a single kiss.
+
+ But my sweetheart was shy, so I dared not ask
+ For the boon, so bravely I wore the mask.
+ But into her face there came a flame:--
+ I wonder could she have been thinking the same?
+
+
+THE RIGHT TO DIE
+
+ I have no fancy for that ancient cant
+ That makes us masters of our destinies,
+ And not our lives, to hold or give them up
+ As will directs; I cannot, will not think
+ That men, the subtle worms, who plot and plan
+ And scheme and calculate with such shrewd wit,
+ Are such great blund'ring fools as not to know
+ When they have lived enough.
+ Men court not death
+ When there are sweets still left in life to taste.
+ Nor will a brave man choose to live when he,
+ Full deeply drunk of life, has reached the dregs,
+ And knows that now but bitterness remains.
+ He is the coward who, outfaced in this,
+ Fears the false goblins of another life.
+ I honor him who being much harassed
+ Drinks of sweet courage until drunk of it,--
+ Then seizing Death, reluctant, by the hand,
+ Leaps with him, fearless, to eternal peace!
+
+
+BEHIND THE ARRAS
+
+ As in some dim baronial hall restrained,
+ A prisoner sits, engirt by secret doors
+ And waving tapestries that argue forth
+ Strange passages into the outer air;
+ So in this dimmer room which we call life,
+ Thus sits the soul and marks with eye intent
+ That mystic curtain o'er the portal death;
+ Still deeming that behind the arras lies
+ The lambent way that leads to lasting light.
+ Poor fooled and foolish soul! Know now that death
+ Is but a blind, false door that nowhere leads,
+ And gives no hope of exit final, free.
+
+
+WHEN THE OLD MAN SMOKES
+
+ In the forenoon's restful quiet,
+ When the boys are off at school,
+ When the window lights are shaded
+ And the chimney-corner cool,
+ Then the old man seeks his armchair,
+ Lights his pipe and settles back;
+ Falls a-dreaming as he draws it
+ Till the smoke-wreaths gather black.
+
+ And the tear-drops come a-trickling
+ Down his cheeks, a silver flow--
+ Smoke or memories you wonder,
+ But you never ask him,--no;
+ For there 's something almost sacred
+ To the other family folks
+ In those moods of silent dreaming
+ When the old man smokes.
+
+ Ah, perhaps he sits there dreaming
+ Of the love of other days
+ And of how he used to lead her
+ Through the merry dance's maze;
+ How he called her "little princess,"
+ And, to please her, used to twine
+ Tender wreaths to crown her tresses,
+ From the "matrimony vine."
+
+ Then before his mental vision
+ Comes, perhaps, a sadder day,
+ When they left his little princess
+ Sleeping with her fellow clay.
+ How his young heart throbbed, and pained him!
+ Why, the memory of it chokes!
+ Is it of these things he 's thinking
+ When the old man smokes?
+
+ But some brighter thoughts possess him,
+ For the tears are dried the while.
+ And the old, worn face is wrinkled
+ In a reminiscent smile,
+ From the middle of the forehead
+ To the feebly trembling lip,
+ At some ancient prank remembered
+ Or some long unheard-of quip.
+
+ Then the lips relax their tension
+ And the pipe begins to slide,
+ Till in little clouds of ashes,
+ It falls softly at his side;
+ And his head bends low and lower
+ Till his chin lies on his breast,
+ And he sits in peaceful slumber
+ Like a little child at rest.
+
+ Dear old man, there 's something sad'ning,
+ In these dreamy moods of yours,
+ Since the present proves so fleeting,
+ All the past for you endures.
+ Weeping at forgotten sorrows,
+ Smiling at forgotten jokes;
+ Life epitomized in minutes,
+ When the old man smokes.
+
+
+THE GARRET
+
+ Within a London garret high,
+ Above the roofs and near the sky,
+ My ill-rewarding pen I ply
+ To win me bread.
+ This little chamber, six by four,
+ Is castle, study, den, and more,--
+ Altho' no carpet decks the floor,
+ Nor down, the bed.
+
+ My room is rather bleak and bare;
+ I only have one broken chair,
+ But then, there's plenty of fresh air,--
+ Some light, beside.
+ What tho' I cannot ask my friends
+ To share with me my odds and ends,
+ A liberty my aerie lends,
+ To most denied.
+
+ The bore who falters at the stair
+ No more shall be my curse and care,
+ And duns shall fail to find my lair
+ With beastly bills.
+ When debts have grown and funds are short,
+ I find it rather pleasant sport
+ To live "above the common sort"
+ With all their ills.
+
+ I write my rhymes and sing away,
+ And dawn may come or dusk or day:
+ Tho' fare be poor, my heart is gay.
+ And full of glee.
+ Though chimney-pots be all my views;
+ 'T is nearer for the winging Muse,
+ So I am sure she 'll not refuse
+ To visit me.
+
+
+TO E. H. K.
+
+ON THE RECEIPT OF A FAMILIAR POEM
+
+ To me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath
+ From some far forest which I once have known,
+ The perfume of this flower of verse is blown.
+ Tho' seemingly soul-blossoms faint to death,
+ Naught that with joy she bears e'er withereth.
+ So, tho' the pregnant years have come and flown,
+ Lives come and gone and altered like mine own,
+ This poem comes to me a shibboleth:
+ Brings sound of past communings to my ear,
+ Turns round the tide of time and bears me back
+ Along an old and long untraversed way;
+ Makes me forget this is a later year,
+ Makes me tread o'er a reminiscent track,
+ Half sad, half glad, to one forgotten day!
+
+
+A BRIDAL MEASURE
+
+ Come, essay a sprightly measure,
+ Tuned to some light song of pleasure.
+ Maidens, let your brows be crowned
+ As we foot this merry round.
+
+ From the ground a voice is singing,
+ From the sod a soul is springing.
+ Who shall say 't is but a clod
+ Quick'ning upward toward its God?
+
+ Who shall say it? Who may know it,
+ That the clod is not a poet
+ Waiting but a gleam to waken
+ In a spirit music-shaken?
+
+ Phyllis, Phyllis, why be waiting?
+ In the woods the birds are mating.
+ From the tree beside the wall,
+ Hear the am'rous robin call.
+
+ Listen to yon thrush's trilling;
+ Phyllis, Phyllis, are you willing,
+ When love speaks from cave and tree,
+ Only we should silent be?
+
+ When the year, itself renewing,
+ All the world with flowers is strewing,
+ Then through Youth's Arcadian land,
+ Love and song go hand in hand.
+
+ Come, unfold your vocal treasure,
+ Sing with me a nuptial measure,--
+ Let this springtime gambol be
+ Bridal dance for you and me.
+
+
+VENGEANCE IS SWEET
+
+ When I was young I longed for Love,
+ And held his glory far above
+ All other earthly things. I cried:
+ "Come, Love, dear Love, with me abide;"
+ And with my subtlest art I wooed,
+ And eagerly the wight pursued.
+ But Love was gay and Love was shy,
+ He laughed at me and passed me by.
+
+ Well, I grew old and I grew gray,
+ When Wealth came wending down my way.
+ I took his golden hand with glee,
+ And comrades from that day were we.
+ Then Love came back with doleful face,
+ And prayed that I would give him place.
+ But, though his eyes with tears were dim,
+ I turned my back and laughed at him.
+
+
+A HYMN
+
+AFTER READING "LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT."
+
+ Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
+ For oh, my steps are weak,
+ And ever as I go,
+ Some soothing sentence speak;
+
+ That I may turn my face
+ Through doubt's obscurity
+ Toward thine abiding-place,
+ E'en tho' I cannot see.
+
+ For lo, the way is dark;
+ Through mist and cloud I grope,
+ Save for that fitful spark,
+ The little flame of hope.
+
+ Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
+ For fear that I may fall;
+ I know not where to go
+ Unless I hear thy call.
+
+ My fainting soul doth yearn
+ For thy green hills afar;
+ So let thy mercy burn--
+ My greater, guiding star!
+
+
+JUST WHISTLE A BIT
+
+ Just whistle a bit, if the day be dark,
+ And the sky be overcast:
+ If mute be the voice of the piping lark,
+ Why, pipe your own small blast.
+
+ And it's wonderful how o'er the gray sky-track
+ The truant warbler comes stealing back.
+ But why need he come? for your soul's at rest,
+ And the song in the heart,--ah, that is best.
+
+ Just whistle a bit, if the night be drear
+ And the stars refuse to shine:
+ And a gleam that mocks the starlight clear
+ Within you glows benign.
+
+ Till the dearth of light in the glooming skies
+ Is lost to the sight of your soul-lit eyes.
+ What matters the absence of moon or star?
+ The light within is the best by far.
+
+ Just whistle a bit, if there 's work to do,
+ With the mind or in the soil.
+ And your note will turn out a talisman true
+ To exorcise grim Toil.
+
+ It will lighten your burden and make you feel
+ That there 's nothing like work as a sauce for a meal.
+ And with song in your heart and the meal in--its place,
+ There 'll be joy in your bosom and light in your face.
+
+ Just whistle a bit, if your heart be sore;
+ 'Tis a wonderful balm for pain.
+ Just pipe some old melody o'er and o'er
+ Till it soothes like summer rain.
+
+ And perhaps 't would be best in a later day,
+ When Death comes stalking down the way,
+ To knock at your bosom and see if you 're fit,
+ Then, as you wait calmly, just whistle a bit.
+
+
+THE BARRIER
+
+ The Midnight wooed the Morning-Star,
+ And prayed her: "Love come nearer;
+ Your swinging coldly there afar
+ To me but makes you dearer!"
+
+ The Morning-Star was pale with dole
+ As said she, low replying:
+ "Oh, lover mine, soul of my soul,
+ For you I too am sighing.
+
+ "But One ordained when we were born,
+ In spite of Love's insistence,
+ That Night might only view the Morn
+ Adoring at a distance."
+
+ But as she spoke the jealous Sun
+ Across the heavens panted.
+ "Oh, whining fools," he cried, "have done;
+ Your wishes shall be granted!"
+
+ He hurled his flaming lances far;
+ The twain stood unaffrighted--
+ And Midnight and the Morning-Star
+ Lay down in death united!
+
+
+DREAMS
+
+ Dream on, for dreams are sweet:
+ Do not awaken!
+ Dream on, and at thy feet
+ Pomegranates shall be shaken.
+
+ Who likeneth the youth
+ Of life to morning?
+ 'Tis like the night in truth,
+ Rose-coloured dreams adorning.
+
+ The wind is soft above,
+ The shadows umber.
+ (There is a dream called Love.)
+ Take thou the fullest slumber!
+
+ In Lethe's soothing stream,
+ Thy thirst thou slakest.
+ Sleep, sleep; 't is sweet to dream.
+ Oh, weep when thou awakest!
+
+
+THE DREAMER
+
+ Temples he built and palaces of air,
+ And, with the artist's parent-pride aglow,
+ His fancy saw his vague ideals grow
+ Into creations marvellously fair;
+
+ He set his foot upon Fame's nether stair.
+ But ah, his dream,--it had entranced him so
+ He could not move. He could no farther go;
+ But paused in joy that he was even there!
+
+ He did not wake until one day there gleamed
+ Thro' his dark consciousness a light that racked
+ His being till he rose, alert to act.
+ But lo! what he had dreamed, the while he dreamed,
+ Another, wedding action unto thought,
+ Into the living, pulsing world had brought.
+
+
+WAITING
+
+ The sun has slipped his tether
+ And galloped down the west.
+ (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
+ The little bird is sleeping
+ In the softness of its nest.
+ Night follows day, day follows dawn,
+ And so the time has come and gone:
+ And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
+
+ The cruel wind is rising
+ With a whistle and a wail.
+ (And it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
+ My eyes are seaward straining
+ For the coming of a sail;
+ But void the sea, and void the beach
+ Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
+ And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
+
+ I heard the bell-buoy ringing--
+ How long ago it seems!
+ (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
+ And ever still, its knelling
+ Crashes in upon my dreams.
+ The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
+ Since then two seasons' winds have blown--
+ And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
+
+ The stretches of the ocean
+ Are bare and bleak to-day.
+ (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
+ My eyes are growing dimmer--
+ Is it tears, or age, or spray?
+ But I will stay till you come home.
+ Strange ships come in across the foam!
+ But it's weary, weary waiting, love.
+
+
+THE END OF THE CHAPTER
+
+ Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day;
+ We even lay the book away;
+ But oh, how sweet the moments sped
+ Before the final page was read!
+
+ We tried to read between the lines
+ The Author's deep-concealed designs;
+ But scant reward such search secures;
+ You saw my heart and I saw yours.
+
+ The Master,--He who penned the page
+ And bade us read it,--He is sage:
+ And what he orders, you and I
+ Can but obey, nor question why.
+
+ We read together and forgot
+ The world about us. Time was not.
+ Unheeded and unfelt, it fled.
+ We read and hardly knew we read.
+
+ Until beneath a sadder sun,
+ We came to know the book was done.
+ Then, as our minds were but new lit,
+ It dawned upon us what was writ;
+
+ And we were startled. In our eyes,
+ Looked forth the light of great surprise.
+ Then as a deep-toned tocsin tolls,
+ A voice spoke forth: "Behold your souls!"
+
+ I do, I do. I cannot look
+ Into your eyes: so close the book.
+ But brought it grief or brought it bliss,
+ No other page shall read like this!
+
+
+SYMPATHY
+
+ I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
+ When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
+ When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
+ And the river flows like a stream of glass;
+ When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
+ And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
+ I know what the caged bird feels!
+
+ I know why the caged bird beats his wing
+ Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
+ For he must fly back to his perch and cling
+ When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
+ And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
+ And they pulse again with a keener sting--
+ I know why he beats his wing!
+
+ I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
+ When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
+ When he beats his bars and he would be free;
+ It is not a carol of joy or glee,
+ But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
+ But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
+ I know why the caged bird sings!
+
+
+LOVE AND GRIEF
+
+ Out of my heart, one treach'rous winter's day,
+ I locked young Love and threw the key away.
+ Grief, wandering widely, found the key,
+ And hastened with it, straightway, back to me,
+ With Love beside him. He unlocked the door
+ And bade Love enter with him there and stay.
+ And so the twain abide for evermore.
+
+
+LOVE'S CHASTENING
+
+ Once Love grew bold and arrogant of air,
+ Proud of the youth that made him fresh and fair;
+ So unto Grief he spake, "What right hast thou
+ To part or parcel of this heart?" Grief's brow
+ Was darkened with the storm of inward strife;
+ Thrice smote he Love as only he might dare,
+ And Love, pride purged, was chastened all his life.
+
+
+MORTALITY
+
+ Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust,
+ What of his loving, what of his lust?
+ What of his passion, what of his pain?
+ What of his poverty, what of his pride?
+ Earth, the great mother, has called him again:
+ Deeply he sleeps, the world's verdict defied.
+ Shall he be tried again? Shall he go free?
+ Who shall the court convene? Where shall it be?
+ No answer on the land, none from the sea.
+ Only we know that as he did, we must:
+ You with your theories, you with your trust,--
+ Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust!
+
+
+LOVE
+
+ A life was mine full of the close concern
+ Of many-voiced affairs. The world sped fast;
+ Behind me, ever rolled a pregnant past.
+ A present came equipped with lore to learn.
+ Art, science, letters, in their turn,
+ Each one allured me with its treasures vast;
+ And I staked all for wisdom, till at last
+ Thou cam'st and taught my soul anew to yearn.
+ I had not dreamed that I could turn away
+ From all that men with brush and pen had wrought;
+ But ever since that memorable day
+ When to my heart the truth of love was brought,
+ I have been wholly yielded to its sway,
+ And had no room for any other thought.
+
+
+SHE GAVE ME A ROSE
+
+ She gave a rose,
+ And I kissed it and pressed it.
+ I love her, she knows,
+ And my action confessed it.
+ She gave me a rose,
+ And I kissed it and pressed it.
+
+ Ah, how my heart glows,
+ Could I ever have guessed it?
+ It is fair to suppose
+ That I might have repressed it:
+ She gave me a rose,
+ And I kissed it and pressed it.
+
+ 'T was a rhyme in life's prose
+ That uplifted and blest it.
+ Man's nature, who knows
+ Until love comes to test it?
+ She gave me a rose,
+ And I kissed it and pressed it.
+
+
+DREAM SONG I
+
+ Long years ago, within a distant clime,
+ Ere Love had touched me with his wand sublime,
+ I dreamed of one to make my life's calm May
+ The panting passion of a summer's day.
+ And ever since, in almost sad suspense,
+ I have been waiting with a soul intense
+ To greet and take unto myself the beams,
+ Of her, my star, the lady of my dreams.
+
+ O Love, still longed and looked for, come to me,
+ Be thy far home by mountain, vale, or sea.
+ My yearning heart may never find its rest
+ Until thou liest rapt upon my breast.
+ The wind may bring its perfume from the south,
+ Is it so sweet as breath from my love's mouth?
+ Oh, naught that surely is, and naught that seems
+ May turn me from the lady of my dreams.
+
+
+DREAM SONG II
+
+ Pray, what can dreams avail
+ To make love or to mar?
+ The child within the cradle rail
+ Lies dreaming of the star.
+ But is the star by this beguiled
+ To leave its place and seek the child?
+
+ The poor plucked rose within its glass
+ Still dreameth of the bee;
+ But, tho' the lagging moments pass,
+ Her Love she may not see.
+ If dream of child and flower fail,
+ Why should a maiden's dreams prevail?
+
+
+CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART
+
+ The snow lies deep upon the ground,
+ And winter's brightness all around
+ Decks bravely out the forest sere,
+ With jewels of the brave old year.
+ The coasting crowd upon the hill
+ With some new spirit seems to thrill;
+ And all the temple bells achime.
+ Ring out the glee of Christmas time.
+
+ In happy homes the brown oak-bough
+ Vies with the red-gemmed holly now;
+ And here and there, like pearls, there show
+ The berries of the mistletoe.
+ A sprig upon the chandelier
+ Says to the maidens, "Come not here!"
+ Even the pauper of the earth
+ Some kindly gift has cheered to mirth!
+
+ Within his chamber, dim and cold,
+ There sits a grasping miser old.
+ He has no thought save one of gain,--
+ To grind and gather and grasp and drain.
+ A peal of bells, a merry shout
+ Assail his ear: he gazes out
+ Upon a world to him all gray,
+ And snarls, "Why, this is Christmas Day!"
+
+ No, man of ice,--for shame, for shame!
+ For "Christmas Day" is no mere name.
+ No, not for you this ringing cheer,
+ This festal season of the year.
+ And not for you the chime of bells
+ From holy temple rolls and swells.
+ In day and deed he has no part--
+ Who holds not Christmas in his heart!
+
+
+THE KING IS DEAD
+
+ Aye, lay him in his grave, the old dead year!
+ His life is lived--fulfilled his destiny.
+ Have you for him no sad, regretful tear
+ To drop beside the cold, unfollowed bier?
+ Can you not pay the tribute of a sigh?
+
+ Was he not kind to you, this dead old year?
+ Did he not give enough of earthly store?
+ Enough of love, and laughter, and good cheer?
+ Have not the skies you scanned sometimes been clear?
+ How, then, of him who dies, could you ask more?
+
+ It is not well to hate him for the pain
+ He brought you, and the sorrows manifold.
+ To pardon him these hurts still I am fain;
+ For in the panting period of his reign,
+ He brought me new wounds, but he healed the old.
+
+ One little sigh for thee, my poor, dead friend--
+ One little sigh while my companions sing.
+ Thou art so soon forgotten in the end;
+ We cry e'en as thy footsteps downward tend:
+ "The king is dead! long live the king!"
+
+
+THEOLOGY
+
+ There is a heaven, for ever, day by day,
+ The upward longing of my soul doth tell me so.
+ There is a hell, I 'm quite as sure; for pray,
+ If there were not, where would my neighbours go?
+
+
+RESIGNATION
+
+ Long had I grieved at what I deemed abuse;
+ But now I am as grain within the mill.
+ If so be thou must crush me for thy use,
+ Grind on, O potent God, and do thy will!
+
+
+LOVE'S HUMILITY
+
+ As some rapt gazer on the lowly earth,
+ Looks up to radiant planets, ranging far,
+ So I, whose soul doth know thy wondrous worth
+ Look longing up to thee as to a star.
+
+
+PRECEDENT
+
+ The poor man went to the rich man's doors,
+ "I come as Lazarus came," he said.
+ The rich man turned with humble head,--
+ "I will send my dogs to lick your sores!"
+
+
+SHE TOLD HER BEADS
+
+ She told her beads with down-cast eyes,
+ Within the ancient chapel dim;
+ And ever as her fingers slim
+ Slipt o'er th' insensate ivories,
+ My rapt soul followed, spaniel-wise.
+ Ah, many were the beads she wore;
+ But as she told them o'er and o'er,
+ They did not number all my sighs.
+ My heart was filled with unvoiced cries
+ And prayers and pleadings unexpressed;
+ But while I burned with Love's unrest,
+ She told her beads with down-cast eyes.
+
+
+LITTLE LUCY LANDMAN
+
+ Oh, the day has set me dreaming
+ In a strange, half solemn way
+ Of the feelings I experienced
+ On another long past day,--
+ Of the way my heart made music
+ When the buds began to blow,
+ And o' little Lucy Landman
+ Whom I loved long years ago.
+
+ It 's in spring, the poet tells us,
+ That we turn to thoughts of love,
+ And our hearts go out a-wooing
+ With the lapwing and the dove.
+ But whene'er the soul goes seeking
+ Its twin-soul, upon the wing,
+ I 've a notion, backed by mem'ry,
+ That it's love that makes the spring.
+
+ I have heard a robin singing
+ When the boughs were brown and bare,
+ And the chilling hand of winter
+ Scattered jewels through the air.
+ And in spite of dates and seasons,
+ It was always spring, I know,
+ When I loved Lucy Landman
+ In the days of long ago.
+
+ Ah, my little Lucy Landman,
+ I remember you as well
+ As if 't were only yesterday
+ I strove your thoughts to tell,--
+ When I tilted back your bonnet,
+ Looked into your eyes so true,
+ Just to see if you were loving
+ Me as I was loving you.
+
+ Ah, my little Lucy Landman
+ It is true it was denied
+ You should see a fuller summer
+ And an autumn by my side.
+ But the glance of love's sweet sunlight
+ Which your eyes that morning gave
+ Has kept spring within my bosom,
+ Though you lie within the grave.
+
+
+THE GOURD
+
+ In the heavy earth the miner
+ Toiled and laboured day by day,
+ Wrenching from the miser mountain
+ Brilliant treasure where it lay.
+ And the artist worn and weary
+ Wrought with labour manifold
+ That the king might drink his nectar
+ From a goblet made of gold.
+
+ On the prince's groaning table
+ Mid the silver gleaming bright
+ Mirroring the happy faces
+ Giving back the flaming light,
+ Shine the cups of priceless crystal
+ Chased with many a lovely line,
+ Glowing now with warmer colour,
+ Crimsoned by the ruby wine.
+
+ In a valley sweet with sunlight,
+ Fertile with the dew and rain,
+ Without miner's daily labour,
+ Without artist's nightly pain,
+ There there grows the cup I drink from,
+ Summer's sweetness in it stored,
+ And my lips pronounce a blessing
+ As they touch an old brown gourd.
+
+ Why, the miracle at Cana
+ In the land of Galilee,
+ Tho' it puzzles all the scholars,
+ Is no longer strange to me.
+ For the poorest and the humblest
+ Could a priceless wine afford,
+ If they 'd only dip up water
+ With a sunlight-seasoned gourd.
+
+ So a health to my old comrade,
+ And a song of praise to sing
+ When he rests inviting kisses
+ In his place beside the spring.
+ Give the king his golden goblets,
+ Give the prince his crystal hoard;
+ But for me the sparkling water
+ From a brown and brimming gourd!
+
+
+THE KNIGHT
+
+ Our good knight, Ted, girds his broadsword on
+ (And he wields it well, I ween);
+ He 's on his steed, and away has gone
+ To the fight for king and queen.
+ What tho' no edge the broadsword hath?
+ What tho' the blade be made of lath?
+ 'T is a valiant hand
+ That wields the brand,
+ So, foeman, clear the path!
+
+ He prances off at a goodly pace;
+ 'T is a noble steed he rides,
+ That bears as well in the speedy race
+ As he bears in battle-tides.
+ What tho' 't is but a rocking-chair
+ That prances with this stately air?
+ 'T is a warrior bold
+ The reins doth hold,
+ Who bids all foes beware!
+
+
+THOU ART MY LUTE
+
+ Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,--
+ My being is attuned to thee.
+ Thou settest all my words a-wing,
+ And meltest me to melody.
+
+ Thou art my life, by thee I live,
+ From thee proceed the joys I know;
+ Sweetheart, thy hand has power to give
+ The meed of love--the cup of woe.
+
+ Thou art my love, by thee I lead
+ My soul the paths of light along,
+ From vale to vale, from mead to mead,
+ And home it in the hills of song.
+
+ My song, my soul, my life, my all,
+ Why need I pray or make my plea,
+ Since my petition cannot fall;
+ For I 'm already one with thee!
+
+
+THE PHANTOM KISS
+
+ One night in my room, still and beamless,
+ With will and with thought in eclipse,
+ I rested in sleep that was dreamless;
+ When softly there fell on my lips
+
+ A touch, as of lips that were pressing
+ Mine own with the message of bliss--
+ A sudden, soft, fleeting caressing,
+ A breath like a maiden's first kiss.
+
+ I woke-and the scoffer may doubt me--
+ I peered in surprise through the gloom;
+ But nothing and none were about me,
+ And I was alone in my room.
+
+ Perhaps 't was the wind that caressed me
+ And touched me with dew-laden breath;
+ Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed me
+ The low-winging Angel of Death.
+
+ Some sceptic may choose to disdain it,
+ Or one feign to read it aright;
+ Or wisdom may seek to explain it--
+ This mystical kiss in the night.
+
+ But rather let fancy thus clear it:
+ That, thinking of me here alone,
+ The miles were made naught, and, in spirit,
+ Thy lips, love, were laid on mine own.
+
+
+COMMUNION
+
+ In the silence of my heart,
+ I will spend an hour with thee,
+ When my love shall rend apart
+ All the veil of mystery:
+
+ All that dim and misty veil
+ That shut in between our souls
+ When Death cried, "Ho, maiden, hail!"
+ And your barque sped on the shoals.
+
+ On the shoals? Nay, wrongly said.
+ On the breeze of Death that sweeps
+ Far from life, thy soul has sped
+ Out into unsounded deeps.
+
+ I shall take an hour and come
+ Sailing, darling, to thy side.
+ Wind nor sea may keep me from
+ Soft communings with my bride.
+
+ I shall rest my head on thee
+ As I did long days of yore,
+ When a calm, untroubled sea
+ Rocked thy vessel at the shore.
+
+ I shall take thy hand in mine,
+ And live o'er the olden days
+ When thy smile to me was wine,--
+ Golden wine thy word of praise,
+
+ For the carols I had wrought
+ In my soul's simplicity;
+ For the petty beads of thought
+ Which thine eyes alone could see.
+
+ Ah, those eyes, love-blind, but keen
+ For my welfare and my weal!
+ Tho' the grave-door shut between,
+ Still their love-lights o'er me steal.
+
+ I can see thee thro' my tears,
+ As thro' rain we see the sun.
+ What tho' cold and cooling years
+ Shall their bitter courses run,--
+
+ I shall see thee still and be
+ Thy true lover evermore,
+ And thy face shall be to me
+ Dear and helpful as before.
+
+ Death may vaunt and Death may boast,
+ But we laugh his pow'r to scorn;
+ He is but a slave at most,--
+ Night that heralds coming morn.
+
+ I shall spend an hour with thee
+ Day by day, my little bride.
+ True love laughs at mystery,
+ Crying, "Doors of Death, fly wide."
+
+
+MARE RUBRUM
+
+ In Life's Red Sea with faith I plant my feet,
+ And wait the sound of that sustaining word
+ Which long ago the men of Israel heard,
+ When Pharaoh's host behind them, fierce and fleet,
+ Raged on, consuming with revengeful heat.
+ Why are the barrier waters still unstirred?--
+ That struggling faith may die of hope deferred?
+ Is God not sitting in His ancient seat?
+
+ The billows swirl above my trembling limbs,
+ And almost chill my anxious heart to doubt
+ And disbelief, long conquered and defied.
+ But tho' the music of my hopeful hymns
+ Is drowned by curses of the raging rout,
+ No voice yet bids th' opposing waves divide!
+
+
+IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN
+
+ In this old garden, fair, I walk to-day
+ Heart-charmed with all the beauty of the scene:
+ The rich, luxuriant grasses' cooling green,
+ The wall's environ, ivy-decked and gray,
+ The waving branches with the wind at play,
+ The slight and tremulous blooms that show between,
+ Sweet all: and yet my yearning heart doth lean
+ Toward Love's Egyptian fleshpots far away.
+
+ Beside the wall, the slim Laburnum grows
+ And flings its golden flow'rs to every breeze.
+ But e'en among such soothing sights as these,
+ I pant and nurse my soul-devouring woes.
+ Of all the longings that our hearts wot of,
+ There is no hunger like the want of love!
+
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+ A man of low degree was sore oppressed,
+ Fate held him under iron-handed sway,
+ And ever, those who saw him thus distressed
+ Would bid him bend his stubborn will and pray.
+ But he, strong in himself and obdurate,
+ Waged, prayerless, on his losing fight with Fate.
+
+ Friends gave his proffered hand their coldest clasp,
+ Or took it not at all; and Poverty,
+ That bruised his body with relentless grasp,
+ Grinned, taunting, when he struggled to be free.
+ But though with helpless hands he beat the air,
+ His need extreme yet found no voice in prayer.
+
+ Then he prevailed; and forthwith snobbish Fate,
+ Like some whipped cur, came fawning at his feet;
+ Those who had scorned forgave and called him great--
+ His friends found out that friendship still was sweet.
+ But he, once obdurate, now bowed his head
+ In prayer, and trembling with its import, said:
+
+ "Mere human strength may stand ill-fortune's frown;
+ So I prevailed, for human strength was mine;
+ But from the killing pow'r of great renown,
+ Naught may protect me save a strength divine.
+ Help me, O Lord, in this my trembling cause;
+ I scorn men's curses, but I dread applause!"
+
+
+THE CONQUERORS
+
+THE BLACK TROOPS IN CUBA
+
+ Round the wide earth, from the red field your valour has won,
+ Blown with the breath of the far-speaking gun,
+ Goes the word.
+ Bravely you spoke through the battle cloud heavy and dun.
+ Tossed though the speech toward the mist-hidden sun,
+ The world heard.
+
+ Hell would have shrunk from you seeking it fresh from the fray,
+ Grim with the dust of the battle, and gray
+ From the fight.
+ Heaven would have crowned you, with crowns not of gold but of bay,
+ Owning you fit for the light of her day,
+ Men of night.
+
+ Far through the cycle of years and of lives that shall come,
+ There shall speak voices long muffled and dumb,
+ Out of fear.
+ And through the noises of trade and the turbulent hum,
+ Truth shall rise over the militant drum,
+ Loud and clear.
+
+ Then on the cheek of the honester nation that grows,
+ All for their love of you, not for your woes,
+ There shall lie
+ Tears that shall be to your souls as the dew to the rose;
+ Afterward thanks, that the present yet knows
+ Not to ply!
+
+
+ALEXANDER CRUMMELL--DEAD
+
+ Back to the breast of thy mother,
+ Child of the earth!
+ E'en her caress can not smother
+ What thou hast done.
+ Follow the trail of the westering sun
+ Over the earth.
+ Thy light and his were as one--
+ Sun, in thy worth.
+ Unto a nation whose sky was as night,
+ Camest thou, holily, bearing thy light:
+ And the dawn came,
+ In it thy fame
+ Flashed up in a flame.
+
+ Back to the breast of thy mother--
+ To rest.
+ Long hast thou striven;
+ Dared where the hills by the lightning of heaven were riven;
+ Go now, pure shriven.
+ Who shall come after thee, out of the clay--
+ Learned one and leader to show us the way?
+ Who shall rise up when the world gives the test?
+ Think thou no more of this--
+ Rest!
+
+
+WHEN ALL IS DONE
+
+ When all is done, and my last word is said,
+ And ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead,"
+ Let no one weep, for fear that I should know,
+ And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so.
+
+ When all is done and in the oozing clay,
+ Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away,
+ Pray not for me, for, after long despair,
+ The quiet of the grave will be a prayer.
+
+ For I have suffered loss and grievous pain,
+ The hurts of hatred and the world's disdain,
+ And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and pure,
+ Had not the pow'r to ease them or to cure.
+
+ When all is done, say not my day is o'er,
+ And that thro' night I seek a dimmer shore:
+ Say rather that my morn has just begun,--
+ I greet the dawn and not a setting sun,
+ When all is done.
+
+
+THE POET AND THE BABY
+
+ How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,--
+ How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,--
+ When a-toddling on the floor
+ Is the muse he must adore,
+ And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
+
+ Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows,
+ One must always be as quiet as a mouse;
+ But to write one seems to me
+ Quite superfluous to be,
+ When you 've got a little sonnet in the house.
+
+ Just a dainty little poem, true and fine,
+ That is full of love and life in every line,
+ Earnest, delicate, and sweet,
+ Altogether so complete
+ That I wonder what's the use of writing mine.
+
+
+DISTINCTION
+
+ "I am but clay," the sinner plead,
+ Who fed each vain desire.
+ "Not only clay," another said,
+ "But worse, for thou art mire."
+
+
+THE SUM
+
+ A little dreaming by the way,
+ A little toiling day by day;
+ A little pain, a little strife,
+ A little joy,--and that is life.
+
+ A little short-lived summer's morn,
+ When joy seems all so newly born,
+ When one day's sky is blue above,
+ And one bird sings,--and that is love.
+
+ A little sickening of the years,
+ The tribute of a few hot tears
+ Two folded hands, the failing breath,
+ And peace at last,--and that is death.
+
+ Just dreaming, loving, dying so,
+ The actors in the drama go--
+ A flitting picture on a wall,
+ Love, Death, the themes; but is that all?
+
+
+SONNET
+
+ON AN OLD BOOK WITH UNCUT LEAVES
+
+ Emblem of blasted hope and lost desire,
+ No finger ever traced thy yellow page
+ Save Time's. Thou hast not wrought to noble rage
+ The hearts thou wouldst have stirred. Not any fire
+ Save sad flames set to light a funeral pyre
+ Dost thou suggest. Nay,--impotent in age,
+ Unsought, thou holdst a corner of the stage
+ And ceasest even dumbly to aspire.
+
+ How different was the thought of him that writ.
+ What promised he to love of ease and wealth,
+ When men should read and kindle at his wit.
+ But here decay eats up the book by stealth,
+ While it, like some old maiden, solemnly,
+ Hugs its incongruous virginity!
+
+
+ON THE SEA WALL
+
+ I sit upon the old sea wall,
+ And watch the shimmering sea,
+ Where soft and white the moonbeams fall,
+ Till, in a fantasy,
+ Some pure white maiden's funeral pall
+ The strange light seems to me.
+
+ The waters break upon the shore
+ And shiver at my feet,
+ While I dream old dreams o'er and o'er,
+ And dim old scenes repeat;
+ Tho' all have dreamed the same before,
+ They still seem new and sweet.
+
+ The waves still sing the same old song
+ That knew an elder time;
+ The breakers' beat is not more strong,
+ Their music more sublime;
+ And poets thro' the ages long
+ Have set these notes to rhyme.
+
+ But this shall not deter my lyre,
+ Nor check my simple strain;
+ If I have not the old-time fire,
+ I know the ancient pain:
+ The hurt of unfulfilled desire,--
+ The ember quenched by rain.
+
+ I know the softly shining sea
+ That rolls this gentle swell
+ Has snarled and licked its tongues at me
+ And bared its fangs as well;
+ That 'neath its smile so heavenly,
+ There lurks the scowl of hell!
+
+ But what of that? I strike my string
+ (For songs in youth are sweet);
+ I 'll wait and hear the waters bring
+ Their loud resounding beat;
+ Then, in her own bold numbers sing
+ The Ocean's dear deceit!
+
+
+TO A LADY PLAYING THE HARP
+
+ Thy tones are silver melted into sound,
+ And as I dream
+ I see no walls around,
+ But seem to hear
+ A gondolier
+ Sing sweetly down some slow Venetian stream.
+
+ Italian skies--that I have never seen--
+ I see above.
+ (Ah, play again, my queen;
+ Thy fingers white
+ Fly swift and light
+ And weave for me the golden mesh of love.)
+
+ Oh, thou dusk sorceress of the dusky eyes
+ And soft dark hair,
+ 'T is thou that mak'st my skies
+ So swift to change
+ To far and strange:
+ But far and strange, thou still dost make them fair.
+
+ Now thou dost sing, and I am lost in thee
+ As one who drowns
+ In floods of melody.
+ Still in thy art
+ Give me this part,
+ Till perfect love, the love of loving crowns.
+
+
+CONFESSIONAL
+
+ Search thou my heart;
+ If there be guile,
+ It shall depart
+ Before thy smile.
+
+ Search thou my soul;
+ Be there deceit,
+ 'T will vanish whole
+ Before thee, sweet.
+
+ Upon my mind
+ Turn thy pure lens;
+ Naught shalt thou find
+ Thou canst not cleanse.
+
+ If I should pray,
+ I scarcely know
+ In just what way
+ My prayers would go.
+
+ So strong in me
+ I feel love's leaven,
+ I 'd bow to thee
+ As soon as Heaven!
+
+
+MISAPPREHENSION
+
+ Out of my heart, one day, I wrote a song,
+ With my heart's blood imbued,
+ Instinct with passion, tremulously strong,
+ With grief subdued;
+ Breathing a fortitude
+ Pain-bought.
+ And one who claimed much love for what I wrought,
+ Read and considered it,
+ And spoke:
+ "Ay, brother,--'t is well writ,
+ But where's the joke?"
+
+
+PROMETHEUS
+
+ Prometheus stole from Heaven the sacred fire
+ And swept to earth with it o'er land and sea.
+ He lit the vestal flames of poesy,
+ Content, for this, to brave celestial ire.
+
+ Wroth were the gods, and with eternal hate
+ Pursued the fearless one who ravished Heaven
+ That earth might hold in fee the perfect leaven
+ To lift men's souls above their low estate.
+
+ But judge you now, when poets wield the pen,
+ Think you not well the wrong has been repaired?
+ 'Twas all in vain that ill Prometheus fared:
+ The fire has been returned to Heaven again!
+
+ We have no singers like the ones whose note
+ Gave challenge to the noblest warbler's song.
+ We have no voice so mellow, sweet, and strong
+ As that which broke from Shelley's golden throat.
+
+ The measure of our songs is our desires:
+ We tinkle where old poets used to storm.
+ We lack their substance tho' we keep their form:
+ We strum our banjo-strings and call them lyres.
+
+
+LOVE'S PHASES
+
+ Love hath the wings of the butterfly,
+ Oh, clasp him but gently,
+ Pausing and dipping and fluttering by
+ Inconsequently.
+ Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh;
+ Love hath the wings of the butterfly.
+
+ Love hath the wings of the eagle bold,
+ Cling to him strongly--
+ What if the look of the world be cold,
+ And life go wrongly?
+ Rest on his pinions, for broad is their fold;
+ Love hath the wings of the eagle bold.
+
+ Love hath the voice of the nightingale,
+ Hearken his trilling--
+ List to his song when the moonlight is pale,--
+ Passionate, thrilling.
+ Cherish the lay, ere the lilt of it fail;
+ Love hath the voice of the nightingale.
+
+ Love hath the voice of the storm at night,
+ Wildly defiant.
+ Hear him and yield up your soul to his might,
+ Tenderly pliant.
+ None shall regret him who heed him aright;
+ Love hath the voice of the storm at night.
+
+
+FOR THE MAN WHO FAILS
+
+ The world is a snob, and the man who wins
+ Is the chap for its money's worth:
+ And the lust for success causes half of the sins
+ That are cursing this brave old earth.
+ For it 's fine to go up, and the world's applause
+ Is sweet to the mortal ear;
+ But the man who fails in a noble cause
+ Is a hero that 's no less dear.
+
+ 'T is true enough that the laurel crown
+ Twines but for the victor's brow;
+ For many a hero has lain him down
+ With naught but the cypress bough.
+ There are gallant men in the losing fight,
+ And as gallant deeds are done
+ As ever graced the captured height
+ Or the battle grandly won.
+
+ We sit at life's board with our nerves highstrung,
+ And we play for the stake of Fame,
+ And our odes are sung and our banners hung
+ For the man who wins the game.
+ But I have a song of another kind
+ Than breathes in these fame-wrought gales,--
+ An ode to the noble heart and mind
+ Of the gallant man who fails!
+
+ The man who is strong to fight his fight,
+ And whose will no front can daunt,
+ If the truth be truth and the right be right,
+ Is the man that the ages want.
+ Tho' he fail and die in grim defeat,
+ Yet he has not fled the strife,
+ And the house of Earth will seem more sweet
+ For the perfume of his life.
+
+
+HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
+
+ She told the story, and the whole world wept
+ At wrongs and cruelties it had not known
+ But for this fearless woman's voice alone.
+ She spoke to consciences that long had slept:
+ Her message, Freedom's clear reveille, swept
+ From heedless hovel to complacent throne.
+ Command and prophecy were in the tone
+ And from its sheath the sword of justice leapt.
+ Around two peoples swelled a fiery wave,
+ But both came forth transfigured from the flame.
+ Blest be the hand that dared be strong to save,
+ And blest be she who in our weakness came--
+ Prophet and priestess! At one stroke she gave
+ A race to freedom and herself to fame.
+
+
+VAGRANTS
+
+ Long time ago, we two set out,
+ My soul and I.
+ I know not why,
+ For all our way was dim with doubt.
+ I know not where
+ We two may fare:
+ Though still with every changing weather,
+ We wander, groping on together.
+
+ We do not love, we are not friends,
+ My soul and I.
+ He lives a lie;
+ Untruth lines every way he wends.
+ A scoffer he
+ Who jeers at me:
+ And so, my comrade and my brother,
+ We wander on and hate each other.
+
+ Ay, there be taverns and to spare,
+ Beside the road;
+ But some strange goad
+ Lets me not stop to taste their fare.
+ Knew I the goal
+ Toward which my soul
+ And I made way, hope made life fragrant:
+ But no. We wander, aimless, vagrant!
+
+
+A WINTER'S DAY
+
+ Across the hills and down the narrow ways,
+ And up the valley where the free winds sweep,
+ The earth is folded in an ermined sleep
+ That mocks the melting mirth of myriad Mays.
+ Departed her disheartening duns and grays,
+ And all her crusty black is covered deep.
+ Dark streams are locked in Winter's donjon-keep,
+ And made to shine with keen, unwonted rays.
+ O icy mantle, and deceitful snow!
+ What world-old liars in your hearts ye are!
+ Are there not still the darkened seam and scar
+ Beneath the brightness that you fain would show?
+ Come from the cover with thy blot and blur,
+ O reeking Earth, thou whited sepulchre!
+
+
+MY LITTLE MARCH GIRL
+
+ Come to the pane, draw the curtain apart,
+ There she is passing, the girl of my heart;
+ See where she walks like a queen in the street,
+ Weather-defying, calm, placid and sweet.
+ Tripping along with impetuous grace,
+ Joy of her life beaming out of her face,
+ Tresses all truant-like, curl upon curl,
+ Wind-blown and rosy, my little March girl.
+
+ Hint of the violet's delicate bloom,
+ Hint of the rose's pervading perfume!
+ How can the wind help from kissing her face,--
+ Wrapping her round in his stormy embrace?
+ But still serenely she laughs at his rout,
+ She is the victor who wins in the bout.
+ So may life's passions about her soul swirl,
+ Leaving it placid,--my little March girl.
+
+ What self-possession looks out of her eyes!
+ What are the wild winds, and what are the skies,
+ Frowning and glooming when, brimming with life,
+ Cometh the little maid ripe for the strife?
+ Ah! Wind, and bah! Wind, what might have you now?
+ What can you do with that innocent brow?
+ Blow, Wind, and grow, Wind, and eddy and swirl,
+ But bring her to me, Wind,--my little March girl.
+
+
+REMEMBERED
+
+ She sang, and I listened the whole song thro'.
+ (It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
+ The stars were out and the moon it grew
+ From a wee soft glimmer way out in the blue
+ To a bird thro' the heavens winging.
+
+ She sang, and the song trembled down to my breast,--
+ (It was sweet, so sweet the singing.)
+ As a dove just out of its fledgling nest,
+ And, putting its wings to the first sweet test,
+ Flutters homeward so wearily winging.
+
+ She sang and I said to my heart "That song,
+ That was sweet, so sweet i' the singing,
+ Shall live with us and inspire us long,
+ And thou, my heart, shalt be brave and strong
+ For the sake of those words a-winging."
+
+ The woman died and the song was still.
+ (It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
+ But ever I hear the same low trill,
+ Of the song that shakes my heart with a thrill,
+ And goes forever winging.
+
+
+LOVE DESPOILED
+
+ As lone I sat one summer's day,
+ With mien dejected, Love came by;
+ His face distraught, his locks astray,
+ So slow his gait, so sad his eye,
+ I hailed him with a pitying cry:
+
+ "Pray, Love, what has disturbed thee so?"
+ Said I, amazed. "Thou seem'st bereft;
+ And see thy quiver hanging low,--
+ What, not a single arrow left?
+ Pray, who is guilty of this theft?"
+
+ Poor Love looked in my face and cried:
+ "No thief were ever yet so bold
+ To rob my quiver at my side.
+ But Time, who rules, gave ear to Gold,
+ And all my goodly shafts are sold."
+
+
+THE LAPSE
+
+ This poem must be done to-day;
+ Then, I 'll e'en to it.
+ I must not dream my time away,--
+ I 'm sure to rue it.
+ The day is rather bright, I know
+ The Muse will pardon
+ My half-defection, if I go
+ Into the garden.
+ It must be better working there,--
+ I 'm sure it's sweeter:
+ And something in the balmy air
+ May clear my metre.
+
+ [_In the Garden._]
+
+ Ah this is noble, what a sky!
+ What breezes blowing!
+ The very clouds, I know not why,
+ Call one to rowing.
+ The stream will be a paradise
+ To-day, I 'll warrant.
+ I know the tide that's on the rise
+ Will seem a torrent;
+ I know just how the leafy boughs
+ Are all a-quiver;
+ I know how many skiffs and scows
+ Are on the river.
+ I think I 'll just go out awhile
+ Before I write it;
+ When Nature shows us such a smile,
+ We should n't slight it.
+ For Nature always makes desire
+ By giving pleasure;
+ And so 't will help me put more fire
+ Into my measure.
+
+ [_On the River._]
+
+ The river's fine, I 'm glad I came,
+ That poem 's teasing;
+ But health is better far than fame,
+ Though cheques are pleasing.
+ I don't know what I did it for,--
+ This air 's a poppy.
+ I 'm sorry for my editor,--
+ He 'll get no copy!
+
+
+THE WARRIOR'S PRAYER
+
+ Long since, in sore distress, I heard one pray,
+ "Lord, who prevailest with resistless might,
+ Ever from war and strife keep me away,
+ My battles fight!"
+
+ I know not if I play the Pharisee,
+ And if my brother after all be right;
+ But mine shall be the warrior's plea to thee--
+ Strength for the fight.
+
+ I do not ask that thou shalt front the fray,
+ And drive the warring foeman from my sight;
+ I only ask, O Lord, by night, by day,
+ Strength for the fight!
+
+ When foes upon me press, let me not quail
+ Nor think to turn me into coward flight.
+ I only ask, to make mine arms prevail,
+ Strength for the fight!
+
+ Still let mine eyes look ever on the foe,
+ Still let mine armor case me strong and bright;
+ And grant me, as I deal each righteous blow,
+ Strength for the fight!
+
+ And when, at eventide, the fray is done,
+ My soul to Death's bedchamber do thou light,
+ And give me, be the field or lost or won,
+ Rest from the fight!
+
+
+FAREWELL TO ARCADY
+
+ With sombre mien, the Evening gray
+ Comes nagging at the heels of Day,
+ And driven faster and still faster
+ Before the dusky-mantled Master,
+ The light fades from her fearful eyes,
+ She hastens, stumbles, falls, and dies.
+
+ Beside me Amaryllis weeps;
+ The swelling tears obscure the deeps
+ Of her dark eyes, as, mistily,
+ The rushing rain conceals the sea.
+ Here, lay my tuneless reed away,--
+ I have no heart to tempt a lay.
+
+ I scent the perfume of the rose
+ Which by my crystal fountain grows.
+ In this sad time, are roses blowing?
+ And thou, my fountain, art thou flowing,
+
+ While I who watched thy waters spring
+ Am all too sad to smile or sing?
+ Nay, give me back my pipe again,
+ It yet shall breathe this single strain:
+ Farewell to Arcady!
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE BANJO
+
+ In a small and lonely cabin out of noisy traffic's way,
+ Sat an old man, bent and feeble, dusk of face, and hair of gray,
+ And beside him on the table, battered, old, and worn as he,
+ Lay a banjo, droning forth this reminiscent melody:
+
+ "Night is closing in upon us, friend of mine, but don't be sad;
+ Let us think of all the pleasures and the joys that we have had.
+ Let us keep a merry visage, and be happy till the last,
+ Let the future still be sweetened with the honey of the past.
+
+ "For I speak to you of summer nights upon the yellow sand,
+ When the Southern moon was sailing high and silvering all the land;
+ And if love tales were not sacred, there's a tale that I could tell
+ Of your many nightly wanderings with a dusk and lovely belle.
+
+ "And I speak to you of care-free songs when labour's hour was o'er,
+ And a woman waiting for your step outside the cabin door,
+ And of something roly-poly that you took upon your lap,
+ While you listened for the stumbling, hesitating words, 'Pap, pap.'
+
+ "I could tell you of a 'possum hunt across the wooded grounds,
+ I could call to mind the sweetness of the baying of the hounds,
+ You could lift me up and smelling of the timber that 's in me,
+ Build again a whole green forest with the mem'ry of a tree.
+
+ "So the future cannot hurt us while we keep the past in mind,
+ What care I for trembling fingers,--what care you that you are blind?
+ Time may leave us poor and stranded, circumstance may make us bend;
+ But they 'll only find us mellower, won't they, comrade?--in the end."
+
+
+THE STIRRUP CUP
+
+ Come, drink a stirrup cup with me,
+ Before we close our rouse.
+ You 're all aglow with wine, I know:
+ The master of the house,
+ Unmindful of our revelry,
+ Has drowned the carking devil care,
+ And slumbers in his chair.
+
+ Come, drink a cup before we start;
+ We 've far to ride to-night.
+ And Death may take the race we make,
+ And check our gallant flight:
+ But even he must play his part,
+ And tho' the look he wears be grim,
+ We 'll drink a toast to him!
+
+ For Death,--a swift old chap is he,
+ And swift the steed He rides.
+ He needs no chart o'er main or mart,
+ For no direction bides.
+ So, come, a final, cup with me,
+ And let the soldiers' chorus swell,--
+ To hell with care, to hell!
+
+
+A CHOICE
+
+ They please me not--these solemn songs
+ That hint of sermons covered up.
+ 'Tis true the world should heed its wrongs,
+ But in a poem let me sup,
+ Not simples brewed to cure or ease
+ Humanity's confessed disease,
+ But the spirit-wine of a singing line,
+ Or a dew-drop in a honey cup!
+
+
+
+
+HUMOUR AND DIALECT
+
+
+THEN AND NOW
+
+THEN
+
+ He loved her, and through many years,
+ Had paid his fair devoted court,
+ Until she wearied, and with sneers
+ Turned all his ardent love to sport.
+
+ That night within his chamber lone,
+ He long sat writing by his bed
+ A note in which his heart made moan
+ For love; the morning found him dead.
+
+NOW
+
+ Like him, a man of later day
+ Was jilted by the maid he sought,
+ And from her presence turned away,
+ Consumed by burning, bitter thought.
+
+ He sought his room to write--a curse
+ Like him before and die, I ween.
+ Ah no, he put his woes in verse,
+ And sold them to a magazine.
+
+
+AT CHESHIRE CHEESE
+
+ When first of wise old Johnson taught,
+ My youthful mind its homage brought,
+ And made the pond'rous crusty sage
+ The object of a noble rage.
+
+ Nor did I think (How dense we are!)
+ That any day, however far,
+ Would find me holding, unrepelled,
+ The place that Doctor Johnson held!
+
+ But change has come and time has moved,
+ And now, applauded, unreproved,
+ I hold, with pardonable pride,
+ The place that Johnson occupied.
+
+ Conceit! Presumption! What is this?
+ You surely read my words amiss;
+ Like Johnson I,--a man of mind!
+ How could you ever be so blind?
+
+ No. At the ancient "Cheshire Cheese,"
+ Blown hither by some vagrant breeze,
+ To dignify my shallow wit,
+ In Doctor Johnson's seat I sit!
+
+
+MY CORN-COB PIPE
+
+ Men may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars
+ The real or fancied virtues of their foreign-made cigars;
+ But I worship Nicotina at a different sort of shrine,
+ And she sits enthroned in glory in this corn-cob pipe of mine.
+
+ It 's as fragrant as the meadows when the clover is in bloom;
+ It 's as dainty as the essence of the daintiest perfume;
+ It 's as sweet as are the orchards when the fruit is hanging ripe,
+ With the sun's warm kiss upon them--is this corn-cob pipe.
+
+ Thro' the smoke about it clinging, I delight its form to trace,
+ Like an oriental beauty with a veil upon her face;
+ And my room is dim with vapour as a church when censers sway,
+ As I clasp it to my bosom--in a figurative way.
+
+ It consoles me in misfortune and it cheers me in distress,
+ And it proves a warm partaker of my pleasures in success;
+ So I hail it as a symbol, friendship's true and worthy type,
+ And I press my lips devoutly to my corn-cob pipe.
+
+
+IN AUGUST
+
+ When August days are hot an' dry,
+ When burning copper is the sky,
+ I 'd rather fish than feast or fly
+ In airy realms serene and high.
+
+ I 'd take a suit not made for looks,
+ Some easily digested books,
+ Some flies, some lines, some bait, some hooks,
+ Then would I seek the bays and brooks.
+
+ I would eschew mine every task,
+ In Nature's smiles my soul should bask,
+ And I methinks no more could ask,
+ Except--perhaps--one little flask.
+
+ In case of accident, you know,
+ Or should the wind come on to blow,
+ Or I be chilled or capsized, so,
+ A flask would be the only go.
+
+ Then could I spend a happy time,--
+ A bit of sport, a bit of rhyme
+ (A bit of lemon, or of lime,
+ To make my bottle's contents prime).
+
+ When August days are hot an' dry,
+ I won't sit by an' sigh or die,
+ I 'll get my bottle (on the sly)
+ And go ahead, and fish, and lie!
+
+
+THE DISTURBER
+
+ Oh, what shall I do? I am wholly upset;
+ I am sure I 'll be jailed for a lunatic yet.
+ I 'll be out of a job--it's the thing to expect
+ When I 'm letting my duty go by with neglect.
+ You may judge the extent and degree of my plight
+ When I 'm thinking all day and a-dreaming all night,
+ And a-trying my hand at a rhyme on the sly,
+ All on account of a sparkling eye.
+
+ There are those who say men should be strong, well-a-day!
+ But what constitutes strength in a man? Who shall say?
+ I am strong as the most when it comes to the arm.
+ I have aye held my own on the playground or farm.
+ And when I 've been tempted, I haven't been weak;
+ But now--why, I tremble to hear a maid speak.
+ I used to be bold, but now I 've grown shy,
+ And all on account of a sparkling eye.
+
+ There once was a time when my heart was devout,
+ But now my religion is open to doubt.
+ When parson is earnestly preaching of grace,
+ My fancy is busy with drawing a face,
+ Thro' the back of a bonnet most piously plain;
+ 'I draw it, redraw it, and draw it again.'
+ While the songs and the sermon unheeded go by,--
+ All on account of a sparkling eye.
+
+ Oh, dear little conjurer, give o'er your wiles,
+ It is easy for you, you're all blushes and smiles:
+ But, love of my heart, I am sorely perplexed;
+ I am smiling one minute and sighing the next;
+ And if it goes on, I 'll drop hackle and flail,
+ And go to the parson and tell him my tale.
+ I warrant he 'll find me a cure for the sigh
+ That you 're aye bringing forth with the glance of your eye.
+
+
+EXPECTATION
+
+ You 'll be wonderin' whut 's de reason
+ I 's a grinnin' all de time,
+ An' I guess you t'ink my sperits
+ Mus' be feelin' mighty prime.
+ Well, I 'fess up, I is tickled
+ As a puppy at his paws.
+ But you need n't think I's crazy,
+ I ain' laffin' 'dout a cause.
+
+ You's a wonderin' too, I reckon,
+ Why I does n't seem to eat,
+ An' I notice you a lookin'
+ Lak you felt completely beat
+ When I 'fuse to tek de bacon,
+ An' don' settle on de ham.
+ Don' you feel no feah erbout me,
+ Jes' keep eatin', an' be ca'm.
+
+ Fu' I's waitin' an' I's watchin'
+ 'Bout a little t'ing I see--
+ D' othah night I's out a walkin'
+ An' I passed a 'simmon tree.
+ Now I's whettin' up my hongry,
+ An' I's laffin' fit to kill,
+ Fu' de fros' done turned de 'simmons,
+ An' de possum 's eat his fill.
+
+ He done go'ged hisse'f owdacious,
+ An' he stayin' by de tree!
+ Don' you know, ol' Mistah Possum
+ Dat you gittin' fat fu' me?
+ 'T ain't no use to try to 'spute it,
+ 'Case I knows you's gittin' sweet
+ Wif dat 'simmon flavoh thoo you,
+ So I's waitin' fu' yo' meat.
+
+ An' some ebenin' me an Towsah
+ Gwine to come an' mek a call,
+ We jes' drap in onexpected
+ Fu' to shek yo' han', dat's all.
+ Oh, I knows dat you 'll be tickled,
+ Seems lak I kin see you smile,
+ So pu'haps I mought pu'suade you
+ Fu' to visit us a while.
+
+
+LOVER'S LANE
+
+ Summah night an' sighin' breeze,
+ 'Long de lovah's lane;
+ Frien'ly, shadder-mekin' trees,
+ 'Long de lovah's lane.
+ White folks' wo'k all done up gran'--
+ Me an' 'Mandy han'-in-han'
+ Struttin' lak we owned de lan',
+ 'Long de lovah's lane.
+
+ Owl a-settin' 'side de road,
+ 'Long de lovah's lane,
+ Lookin' at us lak he knowed
+ Dis uz lovah's lane.
+ Go on, hoot yo' mou'nful tune,
+ You ain' nevah loved in June,
+ An' come hidin' f'om de moon
+ Down in lovah's lane.
+
+ Bush it ben' an' nod an' sway,
+ Down in lovah's lane,
+ Try'n' to hyeah me whut I say
+ 'Long de lovah's lane.
+ But I whispahs low lak dis,
+ An' my 'Mandy smile huh bliss--
+ Mistah Bush he shek his fis',
+ Down in lovah's lane.
+
+ Whut I keer ef day is long,
+ Down in lovah's lane.
+ I kin allus sing a song
+ 'Long de lovah's lane.
+ An' de wo'ds I hyeah an' say
+ Meks up fu' de weary day
+ Wen I's strollin' by de way,
+ Down in lovah's lane.
+
+ An' dis t'ought will allus rise
+ Down in lovah's lane;
+ Wondah whethah in de skies
+ Dey 's a lovah's lane.
+ Ef dey ain't, I tell you true,
+ 'Ligion do look mighty blue,
+ 'Cause I do' know whut I 'd do
+ 'Dout a lovah's lane.
+
+
+PROTEST
+
+ Who say my hea't ain't true to you?
+ Dey bettah heish dey mouf.
+ I knows I loves you thoo an' thoo
+ In watah time er drouf.
+ I wush dese people 'd stop dey talkin',
+ Don't mean no mo' dan chicken's squawkin':
+ I guess I knows which way I's walkin',
+ I knows de norf f'om souf.
+
+ I does not love Elizy Brown,
+ I guess I knows my min'.
+ You allus try to tek me down
+ Wid evaht'ing you fin'.
+ Ef dese hyeah folks will keep on fillin'
+ Yo' haid wid nonsense, an' you's willin'
+ I bet some day dey 'll be a killin'
+ Somewhaih along de line.
+
+ O' cose I buys de gal ice-cream,
+ Whut else I gwine to do?
+ I knows jes' how de t'ing 'u'd seem
+ Ef I 'd be sho't wid you.
+ On Sunday, you's at chu'ch a-shoutin',
+ Den all de week you go 'roun' poutin'--
+ I's mighty tiahed o' all dis doubtin',
+ I tell you cause I's true.
+
+
+HYMN
+
+ O li'l' lamb out in de col',
+ De Mastah call you to de fol',
+ O li'l' lamb!
+ He hyeah you bleatin' on de hill;
+ Come hyeah an' keep yo' mou'nin' still,
+ O li'l' lamb!
+
+ De Mastah sen' de Shepud fo'f;
+ He wandah souf, he wandah no'f,
+ O li'l' lamb!
+ He wandah eas', he wandah wes';
+ De win' a-wrenchin' at his breas',
+ O li'l' lamb!
+
+ Oh, tell de Shepud whaih you hide;
+ He want you walkin' by his side,
+ O li'l' lamb!
+ He know you weak, he know you so';
+ But come, don' stay away no mo',
+ O li'l' lamb!
+
+ An' af'ah while de lamb he hyeah
+ De Shepud's voice a-callin' cleah--
+ Sweet li'l' lamb!
+ He answah f'om de brambles thick,
+ "O Shepud, I's a-comin' quick"--
+ O li'l' lamb!
+
+
+LITTLE BROWN BABY
+
+ Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,
+ Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee.
+ What you been doin', suh--makin' san' pies?
+ Look at dat bib--you's ez du'ty ez me.
+ Look at dat mouf--dat's merlasses, I bet;
+ Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his han's.
+ Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit,
+ Bein' so sticky an sweet--goodness lan's!
+
+ Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,
+ Who's pappy's darlin' an' who 's pappy's chile?
+ Who is it all de day nevah once tries
+ Fu' to be cross, er once loses dat smile?
+ Whah did you git dem teef? My, you 's a scamp!
+ Whah did dat dimple come f'om in yo' chin?
+ Pappy do' know you--I b'lieves you 's a tramp;
+ Mammy, dis hyeah's some ol' straggler got in!
+
+ Let's th'ow him outen de do' in de san',
+ We do' want stragglers a-layin' 'roun' hyeah;
+ Let's gin him 'way to de big buggah-man;
+ I know he's hidin' erroun' hyeah right neah.
+ Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do',
+ Hyeah 's a bad boy you kin have fu' to eat.
+ Mammy an' pappy do' want him no mo',
+ Swaller him down f'om his haid to his feet!
+
+ Dah, now, I t'ought dat you 'd hug me up close.
+ Go back, ol' buggah, you sha'n't have dis boy.
+ He ain't no tramp, ner no straggler, of co'se;
+ He's pappy's pa'dner an' play-mate an' joy.
+ Come to you' pallet now--go to yo' res;
+ Wisht you could allus know ease an' cleah skies;
+ Wisht you could stay jes' a chile on my breas'--
+ Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes!
+
+
+TIME TO TINKER 'ROUN'!
+
+ Summah 's nice, wif sun a-shinin',
+ Spring is good wif greens and grass,
+ An' dey 's some t'ings nice 'bout wintah,
+ Dough hit brings de freezin' blas;
+ But de time dat is de fines',
+ Whethah fiel's is green er brown,
+ Is w'en de rain 's a-po'in'
+ An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun.
+
+ Den you men's de mule's ol' ha'ness,
+ An' you men's de broken chair.
+ Hummin' all de time you 's wo'kin'
+ Some ol' common kind o' air.
+ Evah now an' then you looks out,
+ Tryin' mighty ha'd to frown,
+ But you cain't, you 's glad hit 's rainin',
+ An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun'.
+
+ Oh, you 'ten's lak you so anxious
+ Evah time it so't o' stops.
+ W'en hit goes on, den you reckon
+ Dat de wet 'll he'p de crops.
+ But hit ain't de crops you 's aftah;
+ You knows w'en de rain comes down
+ Dat's hit's too wet out fu' wo'kin',
+ An' dey 's time to tinker roun'.
+
+ Oh, dey 's fun inside de co'n-crib.
+ An' dey 's laffin' at de ba'n;
+ An' dey 's allus some one jokin',
+ Er some one to tell a ya'n.
+ Dah 's a quiet in yo' cabin,
+ Only fu' de rain's sof soun';
+ So you 's mighty blessed happy
+ W'en dey 's time to tinker 'roun'!
+
+
+THE REAL QUESTION
+
+ Folks is talkin' 'bout de money, 'bout de silvah an' de gold;
+ All de time de season 's changin' an' de days is gittin' cold.
+ An' dey 's wond'rin' 'bout de metals, whethah we'll have one er two.
+ While de price o' coal is risin' an' dey 's two months' rent dat 's due.
+
+ Some folks says dat gold 's de only money dat is wuff de name,
+ Den de othahs rise an' tell 'em dat dey ought to be ashame,
+ An' dat silvah is de only thing to save us f'om de powah
+ Of de gold-bug ragin' 'roun' an' seekin' who he may devowah.
+
+ Well, you folks kin keep on shoutin' wif yo' gold er silvah cry,
+ But I tell you people hams is sceerce an' fowls is roostin' high.
+ An' hit ain't de so't o' money dat is pesterin' my min',
+ But de question I want answehed 's how to get at any kin'!
+
+
+JILTED
+
+ Lucy done gone back on me,
+ Dat's de way wif life.
+ Evaht'ing was movin' free,
+ T'ought I had my wife.
+ Den some dahky comes along,
+ Sings my gal a little song,
+ Since den, evaht'ing's gone wrong,
+ Evah day dey 's strife.
+
+ Did n't answeh me to-day,
+ Wen I called huh name,
+ Would you t'ink she 'd ac' dat way
+ Wen I ain't to blame?
+ Dat 's de way dese women do,
+ Wen dey fin's a fellow true,
+ Den dey 'buse him thoo an' thoo;
+ Well, hit 's all de same.
+
+ Somep'n's wrong erbout my lung,
+ An' I 's glad hit 's so.
+ Doctah says 'at I 'll die young,
+ Well, I wants to go!
+ Whut 's de use o' livin' hyeah,
+ Wen de gal you loves so deah,
+ Goes back on you clean an' cleah--
+ I sh'd like to know?
+
+
+THE NEWS
+
+ Whut dat you whisperin' keepin' f'om me?
+ Don't shut me out 'cause I 's ol' an' can't see.
+ Somep'n's gone wrong dat 's a-causin' you dread,--
+ Don't be afeared to tell--Whut! mastah dead?
+
+ Somebody brung de news early to-day,--
+ One of de sojers he led, do you say?
+ Did n't he foller whah ol' mastah lead?
+ How kin he live w'en his leadah is dead?
+
+ Let me lay down awhile, dah by his bed;
+ I wants to t'ink,--hit ain't cleah in my head:--
+ Killed while a-leadin' his men into fight,--
+ Dat 's whut you said, ain't it, did I hyeah right?
+
+ Mastah, my mastah, dead dah in de fiel'?
+ Lif me up some,--dah, jes' so I kin kneel.
+ I was too weak to go wid him, dey said,
+ Well, now I 'll--fin' him--so--mastah is dead.
+
+ Yes, suh, I 's comin' ez fas' ez I kin,--
+ Twas kin' o' da'k, but hit 's lightah agin:
+ P'omised yo' pappy I 'd allus tek keer
+ Of you,--yes, mastah,--I 's follerin',--hyeah!
+
+
+CHRISMUS ON THE PLANTATION
+
+ It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu' a mighty gloomy day--
+ Bofe de weathah an' de people--not a one of us was gay;
+ Cose you 'll t'ink dat 's mighty funny 'twell I try to mek hit cleah,
+ Fu' a da'ky 's allus happy when de holidays is neah.
+
+ But we wasn't, fu' dat mo'nin' Mastah 'd tol' us we mus' go,
+ He 'd been payin' us sence freedom, but he couldn't pay no mo';'
+ He wa'n't nevah used to plannin' 'fo' he got so po' an' ol',
+ So he gwine to give up tryin', an' de homestead mus' be sol'.
+
+ I kin see him stan'in' now erpon de step ez cleah ez day,
+ Wid de win' a-kind o' fondlin' thoo his haih all thin an' gray;
+ An' I 'membah how he trimbled when he said, "It's ha 'd fu' me,
+ Not to mek yo' Chrismus brightah, but I 'low it wa'n't to be."
+
+ All de women was a-cryin', an' de men, too, on de sly,
+ An' I noticed somep'n shinin' even in ol' Mastah's eye.
+ But we all stood still to listen ez ol' Ben come f'om de crowd
+ An' spoke up, a-try'n' to steady down his voice and mek it loud:--
+
+ "Look hyeah, Mastah, I 's been servin' you' fu' lo! dese many yeahs,
+ An' now, sence we 's got freedom an' you 's kind o' po', hit 'pears
+ Dat you want us all to leave you 'cause you don't t'ink you can pay.
+ Ef my membry has n't fooled me, seem dat whut I hyead you say.
+
+ "Er in othah wo'ds, you wants us to fu'git dat you 's been kin',
+ An' ez soon ez you is he'pless, we 's to leave you hyeah behin'.
+ Well, ef dat 's de way dis freedom ac's on people, white er black,
+ You kin jes' tell Mistah Lincum fu' to tek his freedom back.
+
+ "We gwine wo'k dis ol' plantation fu' whatevah we kin git,
+ Fu' I know hit did suppo't us, an' de place kin do it yit.
+ Now de land is yo's, de hands is ouahs, an' I reckon we 'll be brave,
+ An' we 'll bah ez much ez you do w'en we has to scrape an' save."
+
+ Ol' Mastah stood dah trimblin', but a-smilin' thoo his teahs,
+ An' den hit seemed jes' nachul-like, de place fah rung wid cheahs,
+ An' soon ez dey was quiet, some one sta'ted sof an' low:
+ "Praise God," an' den we all jined in, "from whom all blessin's flow!"
+
+ Well, dey was n't no use tryin', ouah min's was sot to stay,
+ An' po' ol' Mastah could n't plead ner baig, ner drive us 'way,
+ An' all at once, hit seemed to us, de day was bright agin,
+ So evahone was gay dat night, an' watched de Chrismus in.
+
+
+ANGELINA
+
+ When de fiddle gits to singin' out a ol' Vahginny reel,
+ An' you 'mence to feel a ticklin' in yo' toe an' in yo' heel;
+ Ef you t'ink you got 'uligion an' you wants to keep it, too,
+ You jes' bettah tek a hint an' git yo'self clean out o' view.
+ Case de time is mighty temptin' when de chune is in de swing,
+ Fu' a darky, saint or sinner man, to cut de pigeon-wing.
+ An' you could n't he'p f'om dancin' ef yo' feet was boun' wif twine,
+ When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.
+
+ Don't you know Miss Angelina? She 's de da'lin' of de place.
+ W'y, dey ain't no high-toned lady wif sich mannahs an' sich grace.
+ She kin move across de cabin, wif its planks all rough an' wo';
+ Jes' de same 's ef she was dancin' on ol' mistus' ball-room flo'.
+ Fact is, you do' see no cabin--evaht'ing you see look grand,
+ An' dat one ol' squeaky fiddle soun' to you jes' lak a ban';
+ Cotton britches look lak broadclof an' a linsey dress look fine,
+ When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.
+
+ Some folks say dat dancin 's sinful, an' de blessed Lawd, dey say,
+ Gwine to punish us fu' steppin' w'en we hyeah de music play.
+ But I tell you I don' b'lieve it, fu' de Lawd is wise and good,
+ An' he made de banjo's metal an' he made de fiddle's wood,
+ An' he made de music in dem, so I don' quite t'ink he 'll keer
+ Ef our feet keeps time a little to de melodies we hyeah.
+ W'y, dey's somep'n' downright holy in de way our faces shine,
+ When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.
+
+ Angelina steps so gentle, Angelina bows so low,
+ An' she lif huh sku't so dainty dat huh shoetop skacely show:
+ An' dem teef o' huh'n a-shinin', ez she tek you by de han'--
+ Go 'way, people, d' ain't anothah sich a lady in de lan'!
+ When she 's movin' thoo de figgers er a-dancin' by huhse'f,
+ Folks jes' stan' stock-still a-sta'in', an' dey mos' nigh hol's dey bref;
+ An' de young mens, dey 's a-sayin', "I 's gwine mek dat damsel mine,"
+ When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.
+
+
+FOOLIN' WID DE SEASONS
+
+ Seems lak folks is mighty curus
+ In de way dey t'inks an' ac's.
+ Dey jes' spen's dey days a-mixin'
+ Up de t'ings in almanacs.
+ Now, I min' my nex' do' neighbour,--
+ He's a mighty likely man,
+ But he nevah t'inks o' nuffin
+ 'Ceptin' jes' to plot an' plan.
+
+ All de wintah he was plannin'
+ How he 'd gethah sassafras
+ Jes' ez soon ez evah Springtime
+ Put some greenness in de grass.
+ An' he 'lowed a little soonah
+ He could stan' a coolah breeze
+ So 's to mek a little money
+ F'om de sugah-watah trees.
+
+ In de summah, he 'd be waihin'
+ Out de linin' of his soul,
+ Try 'n' ca'ci'late an' fashion
+ How he 'd git his wintah coal;
+ An' I b'lieve he got his jedgement
+ Jes' so tuckahed out an' thinned
+ Dat he t'ought a robin's whistle
+ Was de whistle of de wind.
+
+ Why won't folks gin up dey plannin',
+ An' jes' be content to know
+ Dat dey 's gittin' all dat's fu' dem
+ In de days dat come an' go?
+ Why won't folks quit movin' forrard?
+ Ain't hit bettah jes' to stan'
+ An' be satisfied wid livin'
+ In de season dat 's at han'?
+
+ Hit 's enough fu' me to listen
+ W'en de birds is singin' 'roun',
+ 'Dout a-guessin' whut 'll happen
+ W'en de snow is on de groun'.
+ In de Springtime an' de summah,
+ I lays sorrer on de she'f;
+ An' I knows ol' Mistah Wintah
+ Gwine to hustle fu' hisse'f.
+
+ We been put hyeah fu' a pu'pose,
+ But de questun dat has riz
+ An' made lots o' people diffah
+ Is jes' whut dat pu'pose is.
+ Now, accordin' to my reas'nin',
+ Hyeah's de p'int whaih I 's arriv,
+ Sence de Lawd put life into us,
+ We was put hyeah fu' to live!
+
+
+MY SORT O' MAN
+
+ I don't believe in 'ristercrats
+ An' never did, you see;
+ The plain ol' homelike sorter folks
+ Is good enough fur me.
+ O' course, I don't desire a man
+ To be too tarnal rough,
+ But then, I think all folks should know
+ When they air nice enough.
+
+ Now there is folks in this here world,
+ From peasant up to king,
+ Who want to be so awful nice
+ They overdo the thing.
+ That's jest the thing that makes me sick,
+ An' quicker 'n a wink
+ I set it down that them same folks
+ Ain't half so good 's you think.
+
+ I like to see a man dress nice,
+ In clothes becomin' too;
+ I like to see a woman fix
+ As women orter to do;
+ An' boys an' gals I like to see
+ Look fresh an' young an' spry.--
+ We all must have our vanity
+ An' pride before we die.
+
+ But I jedge no man by his clothes,--
+ Nor gentleman nor tramp;
+ The man that wears the finest suit
+ May be the biggest scamp,
+ An' he whose limbs air clad in rags
+ That make a mournful sight,
+ In life's great battle may have proved
+ A hero in the fight.
+
+ I don't believe in 'ristercrats;
+ I like the honest tan
+ That lies upon the healthful cheek
+ An' speaks the honest man;
+ I like to grasp the brawny hand
+ That labor's lips have kissed,
+ For he who has not labored here
+ Life's greatest pride has missed:
+
+ The pride to feel that yore own strength
+ Has cleaved fur you the way
+ To heights to which you were not born,
+ But struggled day by day.
+ What though the thousands sneer an' scoff,
+ An' scorn yore humble birth?
+ Kings are but puppets; you are king
+ By right o' royal worth.
+
+ The man who simply sits an' waits
+ Fur good to come along,
+ Ain't worth the breath that one would take
+ To tell him he is wrong.
+ Fur good ain't flowin' round this world
+ Fur every fool to sup;
+ You 've got to put yore see-ers on,
+ An' go an' hunt it up.
+
+ Good goes with honesty, I say,
+ To honour an' to bless;
+ To rich an' poor alike it brings
+ A wealth o' happiness.
+ The 'ristercrats ain't got it all,
+ Fur much to their su'prise,
+ That's one of earth's most blessed things
+ They can't monopolize.
+
+
+POSSUM
+
+ Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me
+ An' jes' gits me out o' hitch,
+ Twell I want to tek my coat off,
+ So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch,
+ Hit's to see some ign'ant white man
+ 'Mittin' dat owdacious sin--
+ Wen he want to cook a possum
+ Tekin' off de possum's skin.
+
+ W'y dey ain't no use in talkin',
+ Hit jes' hu'ts me to de hea't
+ Fu' to see dem foolish people
+ Th'owin' 'way de fines' pa't.
+ W'y, dat skin is jes' ez tendah
+ An' ez juicy ez kin be;
+ I knows all erbout de critter--
+ Hide an' haih--don't talk to me!
+
+ Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin;
+ Jes' you swinge an' scrope it down,
+ Tek a good sha'p knife an' sco' it,
+ Den you bake it good an' brown.
+ Huh-uh! honey, you 's so happy
+ Dat yo' thoughts is 'mos' a sin
+ When you 's settin' dah a-chawin'
+ On dat possum's cracklin' skin.
+
+ White folks t'ink dey know 'bout eatin',
+ An' I reckon dat dey do
+ Sometimes git a little idee
+ Of a middlin' dish er two;
+ But dey ain't a t'ing dey knows of
+ Dat I reckon cain't be beat
+ Wen we set down at de table
+ To a unskun possum's meat!
+
+
+ON THE ROAD
+
+ I 's boun' to see my gal to-night--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ De moon ain't out, de stars ain't bright--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ Dis hoss o' mine is pow'ful slow,
+ But when I does git to yo' do'
+ Yo' kiss 'll pay me back, an' mo',
+ Dough lone de way, my dearie.
+
+ De night is skeery-lak an' still--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ 'Cept fu' dat mou'nful whippo'will--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ De way so long wif dis slow pace,
+ 'T 'u'd seem to me lak savin' grace
+ Ef you was on a nearer place,
+ Fu' lone de way, my dearie.
+
+ I hyeah de hootin' of de owl--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ I wish dat watch-dog would n't howl:--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+ An' evaht'ing, bofe right an' lef',
+ Seem p'int'ly lak hit put itse'f
+ In shape to skeer me half to def--
+ Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
+
+ I whistles so's I won't be feared--
+ Oh lone de way, my dearie!
+ But anyhow I's kin' o' skeered,
+ Fu' lone de way, my dearie.
+ De sky been lookin' mighty glum,
+ But you kin mek hit lighten some,
+ Ef you 'll jes' say you's glad I come,
+ Dough lone de way, my dearie.
+
+
+A DEATH SONG
+
+ Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,
+ Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.
+ An' w'en I 's a-layin' low,
+ I kin hyeah it as it go
+ Singin', "Sleep, my honey, tek yo' res' at las'."
+
+ Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool,
+ An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool,
+ Whah de little birds in spring,
+ Ust to come an' drink an' sing,
+ An' de chillen waded on dey way to school.
+
+ Let me settle w'en my shouldahs draps dey load
+ Nigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road;
+ Fu' I t'ink de las' long res'
+ Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes'
+ Ef I's layin' 'mong de t'ings I's allus knowed.
+
+
+A BACK-LOG SONG
+
+ De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,
+ An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;
+ Dey has cut de bigges' hick'ry dat de mules kin tote away,
+ An' dey's laid hit down and soaked it in de crik.
+ Den dey tuk hit to de big house an' dey piled de wood erroun'
+ In de fiah-place f'om ash-flo' to de flue,
+ While ol' Ezry sta'ts de hymn dat evah yeah has got to soun'
+ When de back-log fus' commence a-bu'nin' thoo.
+
+ Ol' Mastah is a-smilin' on de da'kies f'om de hall,
+ Ol' Mistus is a-stannin' in de do',
+ An' de young folks, males an' misses, is a-tryin', one an' all,
+ Fu' to mek us feel hit 's Chrismus time fu' sho'.
+ An' ouah hea'ts are full of pleasure, fu' we know de time is ouahs
+ Fu' to dance er do jes' whut we wants to do.
+ An' dey ain't no ovahseer an' no othah kind o' powahs
+ Dat kin stop us while dat log is bu'nin thoo.
+
+ Dey 's a-wokin' in de qua'tahs a-preparin' fu' de feas',
+ So de little pigs is feelin' kind o' shy.
+ De chickens ain't so trus'ful ez dey was, to say de leas',
+ An' de wise ol' hens is roostin' mighty high.
+ You could n't git a gobblah fu' to look you in de face--
+ I ain't sayin' whut de tu'ky 'spects is true;
+ But hit's mighty dange'ous trav'lin' fu' de critters on de place
+ F'om de time dat log commence a bu'nin' thoo.
+
+ Some one's tunin' up his fiddle dah, I hyeah a banjo's ring,
+ An', bless me, dat's de tootin' of a ho'n!
+ Now dey 'll evah one be runnin' dat has got a foot to fling,
+ An' dey 'll dance an' frolic on f'om now 'twell mo'n.
+ Plunk de banjo, scrap de fiddle, blow dat ho'n yo' level bes',
+ Keep yo' min' erpon de chune an' step it true.
+ Oh, dey ain't no time fu' stoppin' an' dey ain't no time fu' res',
+ Fu' hit 's Chrismus an' de back-log 's bu'nin' thoo!
+
+
+LULLABY
+
+ Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Too tiahed out to make a noise,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?
+ Yes, you tole me dat befo',
+ Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',
+ Po' little lamb.
+
+ You been bad de livelong day,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',
+ Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;
+ Mam' gwine whup you atter while,
+ Po' little lamb.
+
+ Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ See dem han's now--sich a sight!
+ Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?
+ Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,
+ Po' little lamb.
+
+ Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Had n't oughter played so late,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,
+ Ef de chillun's all lak you;
+ You 's a caution now fu' true,
+ Po' little lamb.
+
+ Lay yo' haid down in my lap,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ Y' ought to have a right good slap,
+ Po' little lamb.
+ You been runnin' roun' a heap.
+ Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,
+ Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
+ Po' little lamb.
+
+
+THE PHOTOGRAPH
+
+ See dis pictyah in my han'?
+ Dat's my gal;
+ Ain't she purty? goodness lan'!
+ Huh name Sal.
+ Dat's de very way she be--
+ Kin' o' tickles me to see
+ Huh a-smilin' back at me.
+
+ She sont me dis photygraph
+ Jes' las' week;
+ An' aldough hit made me laugh--
+ My black cheek
+ Felt somethin' a-runnin' queer;
+ Bless yo' soul, it was a tear
+ Jes' f'om wishin' she was here.
+
+ Often when I 's all alone
+ Layin' here,
+ I git t'inkin' 'bout my own
+ Sallie dear;
+ How she say dat I 's huh beau,
+ An' hit tickles me to know
+ Dat de gal do love me so.
+
+ Some bright day I 's goin' back,
+ Fo' de la!
+ An' ez sho' 's my face is black,
+ Ax huh pa
+ Fu' de blessed little miss
+ Who 's a-smilin' out o dis
+ Pictyah, lak she wan'ed a kiss!
+
+
+JEALOUS
+
+ Hyeah come Caesar Higgins,
+ Don't he think he 's fine?
+ Look at dem new riggin's
+ Ain't he tryin' to shine?
+ Got a standin' collar
+ An' a stove-pipe hat,
+ I 'll jes' bet a dollar
+ Some one gin him dat.
+
+ Don't one o' you mention,
+ Nothin' 'bout his cloes,
+ Don't pay no attention,
+ Er let on you knows
+ Dat he 's got 'em on him,
+ Why, 't 'll mek him sick,
+ Jes go on an' sco'n him,
+ My, ain't dis a trick!
+
+ Look hyeah, whut 's he doin'
+ Lookin' t' othah way?
+ Dat ere move 's a new one,
+ Some one call him, "Say!"
+ Can't you see no pusson--
+ Puttin' on you' airs,
+ Sakes alive, you 's wuss'n
+ Dese hyeah millionaires.
+
+ Need n't git so flighty,
+ Case you got dat suit.
+ Dem cloes ain't so mighty,--
+ Second hand to boot,
+ I 's a-tryin' to spite you!
+ Full of jealousy!
+ Look hyeah, man, I 'll fight you,
+ Don't you fool wid me!
+
+
+PARTED
+
+ De breeze is blowin' 'cross de bay.
+ My lady, my lady;
+ De ship hit teks me far away,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ Ole Mas' done sol' me down de stream;
+ Dey tell me 't ain't so bad 's hit seem,
+ My lady, my lady.
+
+ O' co'se I knows dat you 'll be true,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ But den I do' know whut to do,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ I knowed some day we 'd have to pa't,
+ But den hit put' nigh breaks my hea't,
+ My lady, my lady.
+
+ De day is long, de night is black,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ I know you 'll wait twell I come back,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ I 'll stan' de ship, I 'll stan' de chain,
+ But I 'll come back, my darlin' Jane,
+ My lady, my lady.
+
+ Jes' wait, jes' b'lieve in whut I say,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ D' ain't nothin' dat kin keep me 'way,
+ My lady, my lady;
+ A man 's a man, an' love is love;
+ God knows ouah hea'ts, my little dove;
+ He 'll he'p us f'om his th'one above,
+ My lady, my lady.
+
+
+TEMPTATION
+
+ I done got 'uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;
+ Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;
+ An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thing
+ But jes' run an' tell de neighbours, an' to shout an' pray an' sing.
+
+ I done shuk my fis' at Satan, an' I 's gin de worl' my back;
+ I do' want no hendrin' causes now a-both'rin' in my track;
+ Fu' I 's on my way to glory, an' I feels too sho' to miss.
+ Wy, dey ain't no use in sinnin' when 'uligion 's sweet ez dis.
+
+ Talk erbout a man backslidin' w'en he 's on de gospel way;
+ No, suh, I done beat de debbil, an' Temptation 's los' de day.
+ Gwine to keep my eyes right straight up, gwine to shet my eahs, an' see
+ Whut ole projick Mistah Satan 's gwine to try to wuk on me.
+
+ Listen, whut dat soun' I hyeah dah? 'tain't no one commence to sing;
+ It 's a fiddle; git erway dah! don' you hyeah dat blessid thing?
+ W'y, dat's sweet ez drippin' honey, 'cause, you knows, I draws de bow,
+ An' when music's sho' 'nough music, I 's de one dat's sho' to know.
+
+ W'y, I 's done de double shuffle, twell a body could n't res',
+ Jes' a-hyeahin' Sam de fiddlah play dat chune his level bes';
+ I could cut a mighty caper, I could gin a mighty fling
+ Jes' right now, I 's mo' dan suttain I could cut de pigeon wing.
+
+ Look hyeah, whut 's dis I 's been sayin'? whut on urf 's tuk holt o' me?
+ Dat ole music come nigh runnin' my 'uligion up a tree!
+ Cleah out wif dat dah ole fiddle, don' you try dat trick agin;
+ Did n't think I could be tempted, but you lak to made me sin!
+
+
+POSSUM TROT
+
+ I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,
+ An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;
+ But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,
+ I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go;
+ An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spot
+ Ain't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.
+
+ I know you 've never heerd the name, it ain't a famous place,
+ An' I reckon ef you 'd search the map you could n't find a trace
+ Of any sich locality as this I 've named to you;
+ But never mind, I know the place, an' I love it dearly too.
+ It don't make no pretensions to bein' great or fine,
+ The circuses don't come that way, they ain't no railroad line.
+ It ain't no great big city, where the schemers plan an' plot,
+ But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot.
+
+ But don't you think the folks that lived in that outlandish place
+ Were ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace.
+ Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin' earth
+ An' never find a sweeter girl, er one o' greater worth;
+ An' Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin' on his staff,
+ It seems like I kin hear him talk, an' hear his hearty laugh.
+ His heart was big an' cheery as a sunny acre lot,
+ Why, that's the kind o' folks we had down there at Possum Trot.
+
+ Good times? Well, now, to suit my taste,--an' I 'm some hard to suit,--
+ There ain't been no sich pleasure sence, an' won't be none to boot,
+ With huskin' bees in Harvest time, an' dances later on,
+ An' singin' school, an taffy pulls, an' fun from night till dawn.
+ Revivals come in winter time, baptizin's in the spring,
+ You 'd ought to seen those people shout, an' heerd 'em pray an' sing;
+ You 'd ought to 've heard ole Parson Brown a-throwin' gospel shot
+ Among the saints an' sinners in the days of Possum Trot.
+
+ We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come;
+ I hear aroun' me day by day the endless stir an' hum.
+ I reckon that it done me good, an' yet it done me harm,
+ That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm.
+ We 've got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too,
+ An' I 've come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew.
+ But often when I 'm settin' there, it's foolish, like as not,
+ To think of them ol' benches in the church at Possum Trot.
+
+ I know that I 'm ungrateful, an' sich thoughts must be a sin,
+ But I find myself a wishin' that the times was back agin.
+ With the huskin's an' the frolics, an' the joys' I used to know,
+ When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago.
+ I don't feel this way often, I 'm scarcely ever glum,
+ For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come.
+ But now an' then my mind goes back to that ol' buryin' plot,
+ That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot.
+
+
+DELY
+
+ Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'
+ Sets yo' haid a reelin',
+ Meks you ovah good and new,
+ Dat 's de way I 's feelin'.
+ Seems to me hit 's summah time,
+ Dough hit 's wintah reely,
+ I 's a feelin' jes' dat prime--
+ An' huh name is Dely.
+
+ Dis hyeah love 's a cu'rus thing,
+ Changes 'roun' de season,
+ Meks you sad or meks you sing,
+ 'Dout no urfly reason.
+ Sometimes I go mopin' 'roun',
+ Den agin I 's leapin';
+ Sperits allus up an' down
+ Even when I 's sleepin'.
+
+ Fu' de dreams comes to me den,
+ An' dey keeps me pitchin',
+ Lak de apple dumplin's w'en
+ Bilin' in de kitchen.
+ Some one sot to do me hahm,
+ Tryin' to ovahcome me,
+ Ketchin' Dely by de ahm
+ So 's to tek huh f'om me.
+
+ Mon, you bettah b'lieve I fights
+ (Dough hit's on'y seemin');
+ I's a hittin' fu' my rights
+ Even w'en I 's dreamin'.
+ But I 'd let you have 'em all,
+ Give 'em to you freely,
+ Good an' bad ones, great an' small,
+ So 's you leave me Dely.
+
+ Dely got dem meltin' eyes,
+ Big an' black an' tendah.
+ Dely jes' a lady-size,
+ Delikit an' slendah.
+ Dely brown ez brown kin be
+ An' huh haih is curly;
+ Oh, she look so sweet to me,--
+ Bless de precious girlie!
+
+ Dely brown ez brown kin be,
+ She ain' no mullatter;
+ She pure cullud,--don' you see
+ Dat 's jes' whut 's de mattah?
+ Dat 's de why I love huh so,
+ D' ain't no mix about huh,
+ Soon 's you see huh face you know
+ D' ain't no chanst to doubt huh.
+
+ Folks dey go to chu'ch an' pray
+ So 's to git a blessin'.
+ Oomph, dey bettah come my way,
+ Dey could lu'n a lesson.
+ Sabbaf day I don' go fu',
+ Jes' to see my pigeon;
+ I jes' sets an' looks at huh,
+ Dat's enuff 'uligion.
+
+
+BREAKING THE CHARM
+
+ Caught Susanner whistlin'; well,
+ It's most nigh too good to tell.
+ 'Twould 'a' b'en too good to see
+ Ef it had n't b'en fur me,
+ Comin' up so soft an' sly
+ That she didn' hear me nigh.
+ I was pokin' 'round that day,
+ An' ez I come down the way,
+ First her whistle strikes my ears,--
+ Then her gingham dress appears;
+ So with soft step up I slips.
+ Oh, them dewy, rosy lips!
+ Ripe ez cherries, red an' round,
+ Puckered up to make the sound.
+ She was lookin' in the spring,
+ Whistlin' to beat anything,--
+ "Kitty Dale" er "In the Sweet."
+ I was jest so mortal beat
+ That I can't quite ricoleck
+ What the toon was, but I 'speck
+ 'T was some hymn er other, fur
+ Hymny things is jest like her.
+ Well she went on fur awhile
+ With her face all in a smile,
+ An' I never moved, but stood
+ Stiller 'n a piece o' wood--
+ Would n't wink ner would n't stir,
+ But a-gazin' right at her,
+ Tell she turns an' sees me--my!
+ Thought at first she 'd try to fly.
+ But she blushed an' stood her ground.
+ Then, a-slyly lookin' round,
+ She says: "Did you hear me, Ben?"
+ "Whistlin' woman, crowin' hen,"
+ Says I, lookin' awful stern.
+ Then the red commenced to burn
+ In them cheeks o' hern. Why, la!
+ Reddest red you ever saw--
+ Pineys wa'n't a circumstance.
+ You 'd 'a' noticed in a glance
+ She was pow'rful shamed an' skeart;
+ But she looked so sweet an' peart,
+ That a idee struck my head;
+ So I up an' slowly said:
+ "Woman whistlin' brings shore harm,
+ Jest one thing 'll break the charm."
+ "And what's that?" "Oh, my!" says I,
+ "I don't like to tell you." "Why?"
+ Says Susanner. "Well, you see
+ It would kinder fall on me."
+ Course I knowed that she 'd insist,--
+ So I says: "You must be kissed
+ By the man that heard you whistle;
+ Everybody says that this 'll
+ Break the charm and set you free
+ From the threat'nin' penalty."
+ She was blushin' fit to kill,
+ But she answered, kinder still:
+ "I don't want to have no harm,
+ Please come, Ben, an' break the charm."
+ Did I break that charm?--oh, well,
+ There's some things I must n't tell.
+ I remember, afterwhile,
+ Her a-sayin' with a smile:
+ "Oh, you quit,--you sassy dunce,
+ You jest caught me whistlin' _once_."
+ Ev'ry sence that when I hear
+ Some one whistlin' kinder clear,
+ I most break my neck to see
+ Ef it 's Susy; but, dear me,
+ I jest find I 've b'en to chase
+ Some blamed boy about the place.
+ Dad 's b'en noticin' my way,
+ An' last night I heerd him say:
+ "We must send fur Dr. Glenn,
+ Mother; somethin 's wrong with Ben!"
+
+
+HUNTING SONG
+
+ Tek a cool night, good an' cleah,
+ Skiff o' snow upon de groun';
+ Jes' 'bout fall-time o' de yeah
+ W'en de leaves is dry an brown;
+ Tek a dog an' tek a axe,
+ Tek a lantu'n in yo' han',
+ Step light whah de switches cracks,
+ Fu' dey 's huntin' in de lan'.
+ Down thoo de valleys an' ovah de hills,
+ Into de woods whah de 'simmon-tree grows,
+ Wakin' an' skeerin' de po' whippo'wills,
+ Huntin' fu' coon an' fu' 'possum we goes.
+
+ Blow dat ho'n dah loud an' strong,
+ Call de dogs an' da'kies neah;
+ Mek its music cleah an' long,
+ So de folks at home kin hyeah.
+ Blow it twell de hills an' trees
+ Sen's de echoes tumblin' back;
+ Blow it twell de back'ard breeze
+ Tells de folks we 's on de track.
+ Coons is a-ramblin' an' 'possums is out;
+ Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail!
+ Watch him now--steady,--min'--what you 's about,
+ Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!
+
+ Listen to him ba'kin now!
+ Dat means bus'ness, sho 's you bo'n;
+ Ef he's struck de scent I 'low
+ Dat ere 'possum's sholy gone.
+ Knowed dat dog fu' fo'teen yeahs,
+ An' I nevah seed him fail
+ Wen he sot dem flappin' eahs
+ An' went off upon a trail.
+ Run, Mistah 'Possum, an' run, Mistah Coon,
+ No place is safe fu' yo' ramblin' to-night;
+ Mas' gin' de lantu'n an' God gin de moon,
+ An' a long hunt gins a good appetite.
+
+ Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change?
+ Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res'.
+ Dat ere soun' ain't nothin' strange,--
+ Dat dog's talked his level bes'.
+ Somep'n' 's treed, I know de soun'.
+ Dah now,--wha 'd I tell you? see!
+ Dat ere dog done run him down;
+ Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.
+ Ah, Mistah 'Possum, we got you at las'--
+ Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun';
+ Fros' an' de 'simmons has made you grow fas',--
+ Won't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!
+
+
+A LETTER
+
+ Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I 'd write you long fo' dis,
+ But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is.
+ But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han'
+ Fu' to let you know my feelin's since I retched dis furrin' lan'.
+ I 's right well, I 's glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain't to blame),
+ An' I hopes w'en dese lines reach you, dat dey 'll fin' yo' se'f de same.
+ Cose I 'se feelin kin' o' homesick--dat 's ez nachul ez kin be,
+ Wen a feller 's mo'n th'ee thousand miles across dat awful sea.
+ (Don't you let nobidy fool you 'bout de ocean bein' gran';
+ If you want to see de billers, you jes' view dem f'om de lan'.)
+ 'Bout de people? We been t'inkin' dat all white folks was alak;
+ But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an' dey 's curus fu' a fac'.
+ Fust, dey's heavier an' redder in dey make-up an' dey looks,
+ An' dey don't put salt nor pepper in a blessed t'ing dey cooks!
+ Wen dey gin you good ol' tu'nips, ca'ots, pa'snips, beets, an' sich,
+ Ef dey ain't some one to tell you, you cain't 'stinguish which is which.
+ Wen I t'ought I 's eatin' chicken--you may b'lieve dis hyeah 's a lie--
+ But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin' rabbit pie.
+ An' dey 'd t'ink dat you was crazy--jes' a reg'lar ravin' loon,
+ Ef you 'd speak erbout a 'possum or a piece o' good ol' coon.
+ O, hit's mighty nice, dis trav'lin', an' I 's kin' o' glad I come.
+ But, I reckon, now I 's willin' fu' to tek my way back home.
+ I done see de Crystal Palace, an' I 's hyeahd dey string-band play,
+ But I has n't seen no banjos layin' nowhahs roun' dis way.
+ Jes' gin ol' Jim Bowles a banjo, an' he 'd not go very fu',
+ 'Fo' he 'd outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir.
+ Evahbiddy dat I 's met wif has been monst'ous kin an' good;
+ But I t'ink I 'd lak it better to be down in Jones's wood,
+ Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an' me an' Nelse,
+ Dough my appetite 'ud call me, ef dey was n't nuffin else.
+ I 'd jes' lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin;
+ I 's a-longin' fu' my chittlin's an' my mustard greens ergin;
+ I 's a-wishin' fu' some buttermilk, an' co'n braid, good an' brown,
+ An' a drap o' good ol' bourbon fu' to wash my feelin's down!
+ An' I 's comin' back to see you jes' as ehly as I kin,
+ So you better not go spa'kin' wif dat wuffless scoun'el Quin!
+ Well, I reckon, I mus' close now; write ez soon's dis reaches you;
+ Gi' my love to Sister Mandy an' to Uncle Isham, too.
+ Tell de folks I sen' 'em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an' mam;
+ Closin' I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo' Own True-Lovin' Sam.
+
+ P. S. Ef you cain't mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she'f,
+ An' when I git home, I 'll read it, darlin', to you my own se'f.
+
+
+CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN'
+
+ Bones a-gittin' achy,
+ Back a-feelin' col',
+ Han's a-growin' shaky,
+ Jes' lak I was ol'.
+ Fros' erpon de meddah
+ Lookin' mighty white;
+ Snowdraps lak a feddah
+ Slippin' down at night.
+ Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
+ Spite o' fros' an' showahs,
+ Chrismus is a-comin'
+ An' all de week is ouahs.
+
+ Little mas' a-axin',
+ "Who is Santy Claus?"
+ Meks it kin' o' taxin'
+ Not to brek de laws.
+ Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'
+ To a pusson's grace
+ Wen dey go a pryin'
+ Right on th'oo you' face
+ Down ermong yo' feelin's;
+ Jes' 'pears lak dat you
+ Got to change you' dealin's
+ So 's to tell 'em true.
+
+ An' my pickaninny--
+ Dreamin' in his sleep!
+ Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,
+ Come an' tek a peep.
+ Ol Mas' Bob an' Missis
+ In dey house up daih
+ Got no chile lak dis is,
+ D' ain't none anywhaih.
+ Sleep, my little lammy,
+ Sleep, you little limb,
+ He do' know whut mammy
+ Done saved up fu' him.
+
+ Dey 'll be banjo pickin',
+ Dancin' all night thoo.
+ Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,
+ Plenty tukky, too.
+ Drams to wet yo' whistles
+ So 's to drive out chills.
+ Whut I keer fu' drizzles
+ Fallin' on de hills?
+ Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
+ Spite o' col' an' showahs,
+ Chrismus day 's a-comin',
+ An' all de week is ouahs.
+
+
+A CABIN TALE
+
+THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORY
+
+ Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,
+ You 's enough to dribe me wile.
+ Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat!
+ Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at?
+ Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night?
+ Go 'way, honey, you ain't right.
+ I got somep'n' else to do,
+ 'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you.
+ Tell you jes' one? Lem me see
+ Whut dat one's a-gwine to be.
+ When you 's ole, yo membry fails;
+ Seems lak I do' know no tales.
+ Well, set down dah in dat cheer,
+ Keep still ef you wants to hyeah.
+ Tek dat chin up off yo' han's,
+ Set up nice now. Goodness lan's!
+ Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa.
+ Bet nobidy evah saw
+ Him scrunched down lak you was den--
+ High-tone boys meks high-tone men.
+
+ Once dey was a ole black bah,
+ Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whah
+ In a cave. He was so big
+ He could ca'y off a pig
+ Lak you picks a chicken up,
+ Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup.
+ An' he had two gread big eyes,
+ Jes' erbout a saucer's size.
+ Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiah
+ Jumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiah
+ W'en dat bah was mad; an' laws!
+ But you ought to seen his paws!
+ Did I see 'em? How you 'spec
+ I 's a-gwine to ricollec'
+ Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spin
+ Ef you keeps on puttin' in?
+ You keep still an' don't you cheep
+ Less I 'll sen' you off to sleep.
+ Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun'
+ Eatin' evahthing he foun';
+ No one could n't have a fa'm
+ But dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm;
+ And dey could n't ketch de scamp.
+ Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp.
+ Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track,
+ Do his du't an' come on back.
+ He was sich a sly ole limb,
+ Traps was jes' lak fun to him.
+
+ Now, down neah whah Mistah Bah
+ Lived, dey was a weasel dah;
+ But dey was n't fren's a-tall
+ Case de weasel was so small.
+ An' de bah 'u'd, jes' fu' sass,
+ Tu'n his nose up w'en he 'd pass.
+ Weasels 's small o' cose, but my!
+ Dem air animiles is sly.
+ So dis hyeah one says, says he,
+ "I 'll jes' fix dat bah, you see."
+ So he fixes up his plan
+ An' hunts up de fa'merman.
+ When de fa'mer see him come,
+ He 'mence lookin' mighty glum,
+ An' he ketches up a stick;
+ But de weasel speak up quick:
+ "Hol' on, Mistah Fa'mer man,
+ I wan' 'splain a little plan.
+ Ef you waits, I 'll tell you whah
+ An' jes' how to ketch ol' Bah.
+ But I tell yow now you mus'
+ Gin me one fat chicken fus'."
+ Den de man he scratch his haid,
+ Las' he say, "I'll mek de trade."
+ So de weasel et his hen,
+ Smacked his mouf and says, "Well, den,
+ Set yo' trap an' bait ternight,
+ An' I 'll ketch de bah all right."
+ Den he ups an' goes to see
+ Mistah Bah, an' says, says he:
+ "Well, fren' Bah, we _ain't_ been fren's,
+ But ternight ha'd feelin' 'en's.
+ Ef you ain't too proud to steal,
+ We kin git a splendid meal.
+ Cose I would n't come to you,
+ But it mus' be done by two;
+ Hit's a trap, but we kin beat
+ All dey tricks an' git de meat."
+ "Cose I 's wif you," says de bah,
+ "Come on, weasel, show me whah."
+ Well, dey trots erlong ontwell
+ Dat air meat beginned to smell
+ In de trap. Den weasel say:
+ "Now you put yo' paw dis way
+ While I hol' de spring back so,
+ Den you grab de meat an' go."
+ Well, de bah he had to grin
+ Ez he put his big paw in,
+ Den he juked up, but--kerbing!
+ Weasel done let go de spring.
+ "Dah now," says de weasel, "dah,
+ I done cotched you, Mistah Bah!"
+ O, dat bah did sno't and spout,
+ Try'n' his bestes' to git out,
+ But de weasel say, "Goo'-bye!
+ Weasel small, but weasel sly."
+ Den he tu'ned his back an' run
+ Tol' de fa'mer whut he done.
+ So de fa'mer come down dah,
+ Wif a axe and killed de bah.
+
+ Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine?
+ Run erlong now, nevah min'.
+ Want some mo', you rascal, you?
+ No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.
+
+
+AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN' TIME
+
+ When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day,
+ It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;
+ An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,
+ An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.
+
+ But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away;
+ Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day.
+ When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime,
+ My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time."
+
+ Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call,
+ "Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall."
+ So I puts my han's togethah--evah daddy knows de way,--
+ An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:--
+
+ "Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his eahs?
+ Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,--look, how innercent he 'pears!
+ Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'--ain't she got a' awful neck?
+ Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!"
+
+ Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can;
+ Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful--dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!"
+ An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered--dey 's lettin' on:
+ But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.
+
+ So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune,
+ An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon.
+ Den my wife says, "Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright!
+ Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night."
+
+
+WHISTLING SAM
+
+ I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'.
+ An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin';
+ But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham,
+ De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam.
+ In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay,
+ You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' pu'ty nigh a mile erway,--
+ Puck'rin' up his ugly features 'twell you could n't see his eyes,
+ Den you 'd hyeah a soun' lak dis un f'om dat awful puckah rise:
+
+[Illustration: Musical score.]
+
+ When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin'
+ On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin',
+ While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef,
+ You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:
+
+[Illustration: Musical score.]
+
+ At de call fu' colo'ed soldiers, Sam enlisted 'mong de res'
+ Wid de blue o' Gawd's great ahmy wropped about his swellin' breas',
+ An' he laffed an' whistled loudah in his youfful joy an' glee
+ Dat de govament would let him he'p to mek his people free.
+ Daih was lots o' ties to bin' him, pappy, mammy, an' his Dinah,--
+ Dinah, min' you, was his sweet-hea't, an' dey was n't nary finah;
+ But he lef 'em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma'ched away,
+ Try'n' his level bes' to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay:
+
+[Illustration: Musical score.]
+
+ To de front he went an' bravely fought de foe an' kep' his sperrit,
+ An' his comerds said his whistle made 'em strong when dey could hyeah it.
+ When a saber er a bullet cut some frien' o' his'n down,
+ An' de time 'u'd come to trench him an' de boys 'u'd gethah 'roun',
+ An' dey could n't sta't a hymn-tune, mebbe none o' dem 'u'd keer,
+ Sam 'u'd whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an' he knowed de Mastah 'd hyeah.
+ In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea'ts of all,
+ When above de soun' of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call:
+
+[Illustration: Musical score.]
+
+ When de cruel wah was ovah an' de boys come ma'chin' back,
+ Dey was shouts an' cries an' blessin's all erlong dey happy track,
+ An' de da'kies all was happy; souls an' bodies bofe was freed.
+ Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus' 'a' been on earf indeed.
+ Dey was gethahed all one evenin' jes' befo' de cabin do',
+ When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin' kin' o' sof' an' sweet an' low.
+ Dey could n't see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca'm,
+ An' dey all stood daih a-listenin' ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam!"
+ An' dey seed a little da'ky way off yandah thoo de trees
+ Wid his face all in a puckah mekin' jes' sich soun's ez dese:
+
+[Illustration: Musical score.]
+
+
+HOW LUCY BACKSLID
+
+ De times is mighty stirrin' 'mong de people up ouah way,
+ Dey 'sputin' an' dey argyin' an' fussin' night an' day;
+ An' all dis monst'ous trouble dat hit meks me tiahed to tell
+ Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was sich a mighty belle.
+
+ She was de preachah's favoured, an' he tol' de chu'ch one night
+ Dat she travelled thoo de cloud o' sin a-bearin' of a light;
+ But, now, I 'low he t'inkin' dat she mus' 'a' los' huh lamp,
+ Case Lucy done backslided an' dey trouble in de camp.
+
+ Huh daddy wants to beat huh, but huh mammy daihs him to,
+ Fu' she lookin' at de question f'om a ooman's pint o' view;
+ An' she say dat now she would n't have it diff'ent ef she could;
+ Dat huh darter only acted jes' lak any othah would.
+
+ Cose you know w'en women argy, dey is mighty easy led
+ By dey hea'ts an' don't go foolin' 'bout de reasons of de haid.
+ So huh mammy laid de law down (she ain' reckernizin' wrong),
+ But you got to mek erlowance fu' de cause dat go along.
+
+ Now de cause dat made Miss Lucy fu' to th'ow huh grace away
+ I 's afeard won't baih no 'spection w'en hit come to jedgement day;
+ Do' de same t'ing been a-wo'kin' evah sence de worl' began,--
+ De ooman disobeyin' fu' to 'tice along a man.
+
+ Ef you 'tended de revivals which we held de wintah pas',
+ You kin rickolec' dat convuts was a-comin' thick an' fas';
+ But dey ain't no use in talkin', dey was all lef' in de lu'ch
+ W'en ol' Mis' Jackson's dartah foun' huh peace an' tuk de chu'ch.
+
+ W'y, she shouted ovah evah inch of Ebenezah's flo';
+ Up into de preachah's pulpit an' f'om dah down to de do';
+ Den she hugged an' squeezed huh mammy, an' she hugged an' kissed huh dad,
+ An' she struck out at huh sistah, people said, lak she was mad.
+
+ I has 'tended some revivals dat was lively in my day,
+ An' I 's seed folks git 'uligion in mos' evah kin' o' way;
+ But I tell you, an' you b'lieve me dat I 's speakin' true indeed,
+ Dat gal tuk huh 'ligion ha'dah dan de ha'dest yit I 's seed.
+
+ Well, f'om dat, 't was "Sistah Jackson, won't you please do dis er dat?"
+ She mus' allus sta't de singin' w'en dey 'd pass erroun' de hat,
+ An' hit seemed dey was n't nuffin' in dat chu'ch dat could go by
+ 'Dout sistah Lucy Jackson had a finger in de pie.
+
+ But de sayin' mighty trufeful dat hit easiah to sail
+ W'en de sea is ca'm an' gentle dan to weathah out a gale.
+ Dat 's whut made dis ooman's trouble; ef de sto'm had kep' away,
+ She 'd 'a' had enough 'uligion fu' to lasted out huh day.
+
+ Lucy went wid 'Lishy Davis, but w'en she jined chu'ch, you know
+ Dah was lots o' little places dat, of cose, she could n't go;
+ An' she had to gin up dancin' an' huh singin' an' huh play.--
+ Now hit's nachul dat sich goin's-on 'u'd drive a man away.
+
+ So, w'en Lucy got so solemn, Ike he sta'ted fu' to go
+ Wid a gal who was a sinnah an' could mek a bettah show.
+ Lucy jes' went on to meetin' lak she did n't keer a rap,
+ But my 'sperunce kep' me t'inkin dah was somep'n' gwine to drap.
+
+ Fu' a gal won't let 'uligion er no othah so't o' t'ing
+ Stop huh w'en she teks a notion dat she wants a weddin' ring.
+ You kin p'omise huh de blessin's of a happy aftah life
+ (An' hit's nice to be a angel), but she 'd ravah be a wife.
+
+ So w'en Chrismus come an' mastah gin a frolic on de lawn,
+ Did n't 'sprise me not de littlest seein' Lucy lookin' on.
+ An' I seed a wa'nin' lightnin' go a-flashin' f'om huh eye
+ Jest ez 'Lishy an' his new gal went a-gallivantin' by.
+
+ An' dat Tildy, umph! she giggled, an' she gin huh dress a flirt
+ Lak de people she was passin' was ez common ez de dirt;
+ An' de minit she was dancin', w'y dat gal put on mo' aihs
+ Dan a cat a-tekin' kittens up a paih o' windin' staihs.
+
+ She could 'fo'd to show huh sma'tness, fu' she could n't he'p but know
+ Dat wid jes' de present dancahs she was ownah of de flo';
+ But I t'ink she 'd kin' o' cooled down ef she happened on de sly
+ Fu' to noticed dat 'ere lightnin' dat I seed in Lucy's eye.
+
+ An' she would n't been so 'stonished w'en de people gin a shout,
+ An' Lucy th'owed huh mantle back an' come a-glidin' out.
+ Some ahms was dah to tek huh an' she fluttahed down de flo'
+ Lak a feddah f'om a bedtick w'en de win' commence to blow.
+
+ Soon ez Tildy see de trouble, she jes' tu'n an' toss huh haid,
+ But seem lak she los' huh sperrit, all huh darin'ness was daid.
+ Did n't cut anothah capah nary time de blessid night;
+ But de othah one, hit looked lak could n't git enough delight.
+
+ W'en you keeps a colt a-stan'nin' in de stable all along,
+ W'en he do git out hit 's nachul he 'll be pullin' mighty strong.
+ Ef you will tie up yo' feelin's, hyeah 's de bes' advice to tek,
+ Look out fu' an awful loosin' w'en de string dat hol's 'em brek.
+
+ Lucy's mammy groaned to see huh, an' huh pappy sto'med an' to',
+ But she kep' right on a-hol'in' to de centah of de flo'.
+ So dey went an' ast de pastoh ef he could n't mek huh quit,
+ But de tellin' of de sto'y th'owed de preachah in a fit.
+
+ Tildy Taylor chewed huh hank'cher twell she 'd chewed it in a hole,--
+ All de sinnahs was rejoicin' 'cause a lamb had lef de fol',
+ An' de las' I seed o' Lucy, she an' 'Lish was side an' side:
+ I don't blame de gal fu' dancin', an' I could n't ef I tried.
+
+ Fu' de men dat wants to ma'y ain't a-growin' 'roun' on trees,
+ An' de gal dat wants to git one sholy has to try to please.
+ Hit's a ha'd t'ing fu' a ooman fu 'to pray an' jes' set down,
+ An' to sacafice a husban' so 's to try to gain a crown.
+
+ Now, I don' say she was justified in follerin' huh plan;
+ But aldough she los' huh 'ligion, yit she sholy got de man.
+ Latah on, w'en she is suttain dat de preachah 's made 'em fas'
+ She kin jes' go back to chu'ch an' ax fu'giveness fu' de pas'!
+
+
+
+
+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;
+ Lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+ Oh, sinnah mou'nin' in de dusty road,
+ Hyeah 's de minute fu' to dry yo' eye:
+ Dey 's a moughty One a-comin' fu' to baih yo' load;
+ Lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+ Oh, widder weepin' by yo' husban's grave,
+ Hit 's bettah fu' to sing den sigh:
+ Hyeah come de Mastah wid de powah to save;
+ Lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+ Oh, orphans a-weepin' lak de widder do,
+ An' I wish you 'd tell me why:
+ De Mastah is a mammy an' a pappy too;
+ Lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+ Oh, Moses sot de sarpint in de wildahness
+ W'en de chillun had commenced to die:
+ Some 'efused to look, but hit cuohed de res';
+ Lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+ Bow down, bow 'way down, Bow down,
+ But lif' up yo' haid w'en de King go by!
+
+
+THE MEMORY OF MARTHA
+
+ Out in de night a sad bird moans,
+ An', oh, but hit 's moughty lonely;
+ Times I kin sing, but mos' I groans,
+ Fu' oh, but hit 's moughty lonely!
+ Is you sleepin' well dis evenin', Marfy, deah?
+ W'en I calls you fom de cabin, kin you hyeah?
+ 'T ain't de same ol' place to me,
+ Nuffin' 's lak hit used to be,
+ W'en I knowed dat you was allus some'ers near.
+
+ Down by de road de shadders grows,
+ An', oh, but hit's moughty lonely;
+ Seem lak de ve'y moonlight knows,
+ An', oh, but hit's moughty lonely!
+ Does you know, I's cryin' fu' you, oh, my wife?
+ Does you know dey ain't no joy no mo' in life?
+ An' my only t'ought is dis,
+ Dat I's honin' fu' de bliss
+ Fu' to quit dis groun' o' worriment an' strife.
+
+ Dah on de baid my banjo lays,
+ An', oh, but hit's moughty lonely;
+ Can't even sta't a chune o' praise,
+ An', oh, but hit's moughty lonely!
+ Oh, hit's moughty slow a-waitin' hyeah below.
+ Is you watchin' fu' me, Marfy, at de do'?
+ Ef you is, in spite o' sin,
+ Dey'll be sho' to let me in,
+ Wen dey sees yo' face a-shinin', den dey'll know.
+
+
+W'EN I GITS HOME
+
+ It's moughty tiahsome layin' 'roun'
+ Dis sorrer-laden earfly groun',
+ An' oftentimes I thinks, thinks I,
+ 'T would be a sweet t'ing des to die,
+ An' go 'long home.
+
+ Home whaih de frien's I loved 'll say,
+ "We've waited fu' you many a day,
+ Come hyeah an' res' yo'se'f, an' know
+ You's done wid sorrer an' wid woe,
+ Now you's at home."
+
+ W'en I gits home some blessid day,
+ I 'lows to th'ow my caihs erway,
+ An' up an' down de shinin' street,
+ Go singin' sof' an' low an' sweet,
+ W'en I gits home.
+
+ I wish de day was neah at han',
+ I's tiahed of dis grievin' lan',
+ I's tiahed of de lonely yeahs,
+ I want to des dry up my teahs,
+ An' go 'long home.
+
+ Oh, Mastah, won't you sen' de call?
+ My frien's is daih, my hope, my all.
+ I 's waitin' whaih de road is rough,
+ I want to hyeah you say, "Enough,
+ Ol' man, come home!"
+
+
+"HOWDY, HONEY, HOWDY!"
+
+ Do' a-stan'in' on a jar, fiah a-shinin' thoo,
+ Ol' folks drowsin' 'roun' de place, wide awake is Lou,
+ W'en I tap, she answeh, an' I see huh 'mence to grin,
+ "Howdy, honey, howdy, won't you step right in?"
+
+ Den I step erpon de log layin' at de do',
+ Bless de Lawd, huh mammy an' huh pap's done 'menced to sno',
+ Now's de time, ef evah, ef I's gwine to try an' win,
+ "Howdy, honey, howdy, won't you step right in?"
+
+ No use playin' on de aidge, trimblin' on de brink,
+ Wen a body love a gal, tell huh whut he t'ink;
+ W'en huh hea't is open fu' de love you gwine to gin,
+ Pull yo'se'f togethah, suh, an' step right in.
+
+ Sweetes' imbitation dat a body evah hyeahed,
+ Sweetah den de music of a lovesick mockin'-bird,
+ Comin' f'om de gal you loves bettah den yo' kin,
+ "Howdy, honey, howdy, won't you step right in?"
+
+ At de gate o' heaven w'en de storm o' life is pas',
+ 'Spec' I 'll be a-stan'in', 'twell de Mastah say at las',
+ "Hyeah he stan' all weary, but he winned his fight wid sin.
+ Howdy, honey, howdy, won't you step right in?"
+
+
+THE UNSUNG HEROES
+
+ A song for the unsung heroes who rose in the country's need,
+ When the life of the land was threatened by the slaver's cruel greed,
+ For the men who came from the cornfield, who came from the plough and
+ the flail,
+ Who rallied round when they heard the sound of the mighty man of the
+ rail.
+
+ They laid them down in the valleys, they laid them down in the wood,
+ And the world looked on at the work they did, and whispered, "It is good."
+ They fought their way on the hillside, they fought their way in the glen,
+ And God looked down on their sinews brown, and said, "I have made them
+ men."
+
+ They went to the blue lines gladly, and the blue lines took them in,
+ And the men who saw their muskets' fire thought not of their dusky skin.
+ The gray lines rose and melted beneath their scathing showers,
+ And they said, "'T is true, they have force to do, these old slave boys
+ of ours."
+
+ Ah, Wagner saw their glory, and Pillow knew their blood,
+ That poured on a nation's altar, a sacrificial flood.
+ Port Hudson heard their war-cry that smote its smoke-filled air,
+ And the old free fires of their savage sires again were kindled there.
+
+ They laid them down where the rivers the greening valleys gem.
+ And the song of the thund'rous cannon was their sole requiem,
+ And the great smoke wreath that mingled its hue with the dusky cloud,
+ Was the flag that furled o'er a saddened world, and the sheet that made
+ their shroud.
+
+ Oh, Mighty God of the Battles Who held them in Thy hand,
+ Who gave them strength through the whole day's length, to fight for their
+ native land,
+ They are lying dead on the hillsides, they are lying dead on the plain,
+ And we have not fire to smite the lyre and sing them one brief strain.
+
+ Give, Thou, some seer the power to sing them in their might,
+ The men who feared the master's whip, but did not fear the fight;
+ That he may tell of their virtues as minstrels did of old,
+ Till the pride of face and the hate of race grow obsolete and cold.
+
+ A song for the unsung heroes who stood the awful test,
+ When the humblest host that the land could boast went forth to meet the
+ best;
+ A song for the unsung heroes who fell on the bloody sod,
+ Who fought their way from night to day and struggled up to God.
+
+
+THE POOL
+
+ By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,
+ I have sat with you time and again;
+ And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,
+ To the sibilant sound of the rain.
+
+ And the pool, it is silvery bright, dear love,
+ And as pure as the heart of a maid,
+ As sparkling and dimpling, it darkles and shines
+ In the depths of the heart of the glade.
+
+ But, oh, I 've a wish in my soul, dear love,
+ (The wish of a dreamer, it seems,)
+ That I might wash free of my sins, dear love,
+ In the pool that I see in my dreams.
+
+
+POSSESSION
+
+ Whose little lady is you, chile,
+ Whose little gal is you?
+ What's de use o' kiver'n up yo' face?
+ Chile, dat ain't de way to do.
+ Lemme see yo' little eyes,
+ Tek yo' little han's down nice,
+ Lawd, you wuff a million bills,
+ Huh uh, chile, dat ain't yo' price.
+
+ Honey, de money ain't been made
+ Dat dey could pay fu' you;
+ 'T ain't no use a-biddin'; you too high
+ Fu' de riches' Jap er Jew.
+ Lemme see you smilin' now,
+ How dem teef o' yo'n do shine,
+ An' de t'ing dat meks me laff
+ Is dat all o' you is mine.
+
+ How 's I gwine to tell you how I feel,
+ How's I gwine to weigh yo' wuff?
+ Oh, you sholy is de sweetes' t'ing
+ Walkin' on dis blessed earf.
+ Possum is de sweetes' meat,
+ Cidah is the nices' drink,
+ But my little lady-bird
+ Is de bes' of all, I t'ink.
+
+ Talk erbout 'uligion he'pin' folks
+ All thoo de way o' life,
+ Gin de res' 'uligion, des' gin me
+ You, my little lady-wife.
+ Den de days kin come all ha'd,
+ Den de nights kin come all black,
+ Des' you tek me by de han',
+ An' I'll stumble on de track.
+
+ Stumble on de way to Gawd, my chile,
+ Stumble on, an' mebbe fall;
+ But I'll keep a-trottin', while you lead on,
+ Pickin' an' a-trottin', dat's all.
+ Hol' me mighty tight, dough, chile,
+ Fu' hit's rough an' rocky lan',
+ Heaben 's at de en', I know,
+ So I's leanin' on yo' han'.
+
+
+THE OLD FRONT GATE
+
+ W'en daih 's chillun in de house,
+ Dey keep on a-gittin' tall;
+ But de folks don' seem to see
+ Dat dey 's growin' up at all,
+ 'Twell dey fin' out some fine day
+ Dat de gals has 'menced to grow,
+ Wen dey notice as dey pass
+ Dat de front gate 's saggin' low.
+
+ Wen de hinges creak an' cry,
+ An' de bahs go slantin' down,
+ You kin reckon dat hit's time
+ Fu' to cas' yo' eye erroun',
+ 'Cause daih ain't no 'sputin' dis,
+ Hit's de trues' sign to show
+ Dat daih 's cou'tin' goin' on
+ Wen de ol' front gate sags low.
+
+ Oh, you grumble an' complain,
+ An' you prop dat gate up right;
+ But you notice right nex' day
+ Dat hit's in de same ol' plight.
+ So you fin' dat hit's a rule,
+ An' daih ain' no use to blow,
+ W'en de gals is growin' up,
+ Dat de front gate will sag low.
+
+ Den you t'ink o' yo' young days,
+ W'en you cou'ted Sally Jane,
+ An' you so't o' feel ashamed
+ Fu' to grumble an' complain,
+ 'Cause yo' ricerlection says,
+ An' you know hits wo'ds is so,
+ Dat huh pappy had a time
+ Wid his front gate saggin' low.
+
+ So you jes' looks on an' smiles
+ At 'em leanin' on de gate,
+ Tryin' to t'ink whut he kin say
+ Fu' to keep him daih so late,
+ But you lets dat gate erlone,
+ Fu' yo' 'sperunce goes to show,
+ 'Twell de gals is ma'ied off,
+ It gwine keep on saggin' low.
+
+
+DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER
+
+ In the east the morning comes,
+ Hear the rollin' of the drums
+ On the hill.
+ But the heart that beat as they beat
+ In the battle's raging day heat
+ Lieth still.
+ Unto him the night has come,
+ Though they roll the morning drum.
+
+ What is in the bugle's blast?
+ It is: "Victory at last!
+ Now for rest."
+ But, my comrades, come behold him,
+ Where our colors now enfold him,
+ And his breast
+ Bares no more to meet the blade,
+ But lies covered in the shade.
+
+ What a stir there is to-day!
+ They are laying him away
+ Where he fell.
+ There the flag goes draped before him;
+ Now they pile the grave sod o'er him
+ With a knell.
+ And he answers to his name
+ In the higher ranks of fame.
+
+ There's a woman left to mourn
+ For the child that she has borne
+ In travail.
+ But her heart beats high and higher,
+ With the patriot mother's fire,
+ At the tale.
+ She has borne and lost a son,
+ But her work and his are done.
+
+ Fling the flag out, let it wave;
+ They 're returning from the grave--
+ "Double quick!"
+ And the cymbals now are crashing,
+ Bright his comrades' eyes are flashing
+ From the thick
+ Battle-ranks which knew him brave,
+ No tears for a hero's grave.
+
+ In the east the morning comes,
+ Hear the rattle of the drums
+ Far away.
+ Now no time for grief's pursuing,
+ Other work is for the doing,
+ Here to-day.
+ He is sleeping, let him rest
+ With the flag across his breast.
+
+
+A FROLIC
+
+ Swing yo' lady roun' an' roun',
+ Do de bes' you know;
+ Mek yo' bow an' p'omenade
+ Up an' down de flo';
+ Mek dat banjo hump huhse'f.
+ Listen at huh talk:
+ Mastah gone to town to-night;
+ 'T ain't no time to walk.
+
+ Lif yo' feet an' flutter thoo,
+ Run, Miss Lucy, run;
+ Reckon you 'll be cotched an' kissed
+ 'Fo' de night is done.
+ You don't need to be so proud--
+ I's a-watchin' you,
+ An' I's layin' lots o' plans
+ Fu' to git you, too.
+
+ Moonlight on de cotton-fiel'
+ Shinin' sof an' white,
+ Whippo'will a-tellin' tales
+ Out thaih in de night;
+ An' yo' cabin 's 'crost de lot:
+ Run, Miss Lucy, run;
+ Reckon you 'll be cotched an' kissed
+ To' de night is done.
+
+
+NODDIN' BY DE FIRE
+
+ Some folks t'inks hit's right an' p'opah,
+ Soon ez bedtime come erroun',
+ Fu' to scramble to de kiver,
+ Lak dey 'd hyeahed de trumpet soun'.
+ But dese people dey all misses
+ Whut I mos'ly does desiah;
+ Dat 's de settin' roun' an' dozin',
+ An' a-noddin' by de fiah.
+
+ When you 's tiahed out a-hoein',
+ Er a-followin' de plough,
+ Whut's de use of des a-fallin'
+ On yo' pallet lak a cow?
+ W'y, de fun is all in waitin'
+ In de face of all de tiah,
+ An' a-dozin' and a-drowsin'
+ By a good ol' hick'ry fiah.
+
+ Oh, you grunts an' groans an' mumbles
+ Case yo' bones is full o' col',
+ Dough you feels de joy a-tricklin'
+ Roun' de co'nahs of yo' soul.
+ An' you 'low anothah minute
+ 'S sho to git you wa'm an' dryah,
+ W'en you set up pas' yo' bedtime,
+ Case you hates to leave de fiah.
+
+ Whut's de use o' downright sleepin'?
+ You can't feel it while it las',
+ An' you git up feelin' sorry
+ W'en de time fu' it is pas'.
+ Seem to me dat time too precious,
+ An' de houahs too short entiah,
+ Fu' to sleep, w'en you could spen' 'em
+ Des a-noddin' by de fiah.
+
+
+LOVE'S CASTLE
+
+ Key and bar, key and bar,
+ Iron bolt and chain!
+ And what will you do when the King comes
+ To enter his domain?
+
+ Turn key and lift bar,
+ Loose, oh, bolt and chain!
+ Open the door and let him in,
+ And then lock up again.
+
+ But, oh, heart, and woe, heart,
+ Why do you ache so sore?
+ Never a moment's peace have you
+ Since Love hath passed the door.
+
+ Turn key and lift bar,
+ And loose bolt and chain;
+ But Love took in his esquire, Grief,
+ And there they both remain.
+
+
+MORNING SONG OF LOVE
+
+ Darling, my darling, my heart is on the wing,
+ It flies to thee this morning like a bird,
+ Like happy birds in springtime my spirits soar and sing,
+ The same sweet song thine ears have often heard.
+
+ The sun is in my window, the shadow on the lea,
+ The wind is moving in the branches green,
+ And all my life, my darling, is turning unto thee,
+ And kneeling at thy feet, my own, my queen.
+
+ The golden bells are ringing across the distant hill,
+ Their merry peals come to me soft and clear,
+ But in my heart's deep chapel all incense-filled and still
+ A sweeter bell is sounding for thee, dear.
+
+ The bell of love invites thee to come and seek the shrine
+ Whose altar is erected unto thee,
+ The offerings, the sacrifice, the prayers, the chants are thine,
+ And I, my love, thy humble priest will be.
+
+
+ON A CLEAN BOOK
+
+TO F. N.
+
+ Like sea-washed sand upon the shore,
+ So fine and clean the tale,
+ So clear and bright I almost see,
+ The flashing of a sail.
+
+ The tang of salt is in its veins,
+ The freshness of the spray
+ God give you love and lore and strength,
+ To give us such alway.
+
+
+TO THE EASTERN SHORE
+
+ I 's feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night,
+ An' my min 's done los' de minutes an' de miles,
+ Wile it teks me back a-flyin' to de country of delight,
+ Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin' er wid smiles.
+ Oh, de ol' plantation 's callin' to me, Come, come back,
+ Hyeah 's de place fu' you to labouh an' to res',
+ 'Fu my sandy roads is gleamin' w'ile de city ways is black;
+ Come back, honey, case yo' country home is bes'.
+
+ I know de moon is shinin' down erpon de Eastern sho',
+ An' de bay 's a-sayin' "Howdy" to de lan';
+ An' de folks is all a-settin' out erroun' de cabin do',
+ Wid dey feet a-restin' in de silvah san';
+ An' de ol' plantation 's callin' to me, Come, oh, come,
+ F'om de life dat 's des' a-waihin' you erway,
+ F'om de trouble an' de bustle, an' de agernizin' hum
+ Dat de city keeps ergoin' all de day.
+
+ I 's tiahed of de city, tek me back to Sandy Side,
+ Whaih de po'est ones kin live an' play an' eat;
+ Whaih we draws a simple livin' f'om de fo'est an' de tide,
+ An' de days ah faih, an' evah night is sweet.
+ Fu' de ol' plantation 's callin' to me, Come, oh, come.
+ An' de Chesapeake 's a-sayin' "Dat's de t'ing,"
+ W'ile my little cabin beckons, dough his mouf is closed an' dumb,
+ I 's a-comin, an' my hea't begins to sing.
+
+
+RELUCTANCE
+
+ Will I have some mo' dat pie?
+ No, ma'am, thank-ee, dat is--I--
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ Dat ah pie look sutny good:
+ How 'd you feel now ef I would?
+ I don' reckon dat I should;
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+
+ Look hyeah, I gwine tell de truf,
+ Mine is sholy one sweet toof:
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ Yass'm, yass'm, dat's all right,
+ I 's done tried to be perlite:
+ But dat pie 's a lakly sight,
+ Wha 's de use o' daihin' me?
+
+ My, yo' lips is full an' red,
+ Don't I wish you 'd tu'n yo' haid?
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ Dat ain't faih, now, honey chile,
+ I 's gwine lose my sense erwhile
+ Ef you des set daih an' smile,
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+
+ Nuffin' don' look ha'f so fine
+ Ez dem teef, deah, w'en dey shine:
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ Now look hyeah, I tells you dis;
+ I 'll give up all othah bliss
+ Des to have one little kiss,
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+
+ Laws, I teks yo' little han',
+ Ain't it tendah? bless de lan'--
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ I 's so lonesome by myse'f,
+ 'D ain't no fun in livin' lef';
+ Dis hyeah life's ez dull ez def:
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+
+ Why n't you tek yo' han' erway?
+ Yass, I 'll hol' it: but I say
+ Bettah quit daihin' me.
+ Holin' han's is sholy fine.
+ Seems lak dat 's de weddin' sign.
+ Wish you 'd say dat you 'd be mine;--
+ Dah you been daihin' me.
+
+
+BALLADE
+
+ By Mystic's banks I held my dream.
+ (I held my fishing rod as well,)
+ The vision was of dace and bream,
+ A fruitless vision, sooth to tell.
+ But round about the sylvan dell
+ Were other sweet Arcadian shrines,
+ Gone now, is all the rural spell,
+ Arcadia has trolley lines.
+
+ Oh, once loved, sluggish, darkling stream,
+ For me no more, thy waters swell,
+ Thy music now the engines' scream,
+ Thy fragrance now the factory's smell;
+ Too near for me the clanging bell;
+ A false light in the water shines
+ While Solitude lists to her knell,--
+ Arcadia has trolley lines.
+
+ Thy wooded lanes with shade and gleam
+ Where bloomed the fragrant asphodel,
+ Now bleak commercially teem
+ With signs "To Let," "To Buy," "To Sell."
+ And Commerce holds them fierce and fell;
+ With vulgar sport she now combines
+ Sweet Nature's piping voice to quell.
+ Arcadia has trolley lines.
+
+
+L'ENVOI.
+
+ Oh, awful Power whose works repel
+ The marvel of the earth's designs,--
+ I 'll hie me otherwhere to dwell,
+ Arcadia has trolley lines.
+
+
+SPEAKIN' AT DE COU'T-HOUSE
+
+ Dey been speakin' at de cou't-house,
+ An' laws-a-massy me,
+ 'T was de beatness kin' o' doin's
+ Dat evah I did see.
+ Of cose I had to be dah
+ In de middle o' de crowd,
+ An' I hallohed wid de othahs,
+ Wen de speakah riz and bowed.
+
+ I was kind o' disapp'inted
+ At de smallness of de man,
+ Case I 'd allus pictered great folks
+ On a mo' expansive plan;
+ But I t'ought I could respect him
+ An' tek in de wo'ds he said,
+ Fu' dey sho was somp'n knowin'
+ In de bald spot on his haid.
+
+ But hit did seem so't o' funny
+ Aftah waitin' fu' a week
+ Dat de people kep' on shoutin'
+ So de man des could n't speak;
+ De ho'ns dey blared a little,
+ Den dey let loose on de drums,--.
+ Some one toll me dey was playin'
+ "See de conkerin' hero comes."
+
+ "Well," says I, "you all is white folks,
+ But you 's sutny actin' queer,
+ What's de use of heroes comin'
+ Ef dey cain't talk w'en dey's here?"
+ Aftah while dey let him open,
+ An' dat man he waded in,
+ An' he fit de wahs all ovah
+ Winnin' victeries lak sin.
+
+ Wen he come down to de present,
+ Den he made de feathahs fly.
+ He des waded in on money,
+ An' he played de ta'iff high.
+ An' he said de colah question,
+ Hit was ovah, solved, an' done,
+ Dat de dahky was his brothah,
+ Evah blessed mothah's son.
+
+ Well he settled all de trouble
+ Dat's been pesterin' de lan',
+ Den he set down mid de cheerin'
+ An' de playin' of de ban'.
+ I was feelin' moughty happy
+ 'Twell I hyeahed somebody speak,
+ "Well, dat's his side of de bus'ness,
+ But you wait for Jones nex' week."
+
+
+BLACK SAMSON OF BRANDYWINE
+
+ "In the fight at Brandywine, Black Samson, a giant negro armed with
+ a scythe, sweeps his way through the red ranks...." C. M. Skinner's
+ "_Myths and Legends of Our Own Land_."
+
+ Gray are the pages of record,
+ Dim are the volumes of eld;
+ Else had old Delaware told us
+ More that her history held.
+ Told us with pride in the story,
+ Honest and noble and fine,
+ More of the tale of my hero,
+ Black Samson of Brandywine.
+
+ Sing of your chiefs and your nobles,
+ Saxon and Celt and Gaul,
+ Breath of mine ever shall join you,
+ Highly I honor them all.
+ Give to them all of their glory,
+ But for this noble of mine,
+ Lend him a tithe of your tribute,
+ Black Samson of Brandywine.
+
+ There in the heat of the battle,
+ There in the stir of the fight,
+ Loomed he, an ebony giant,
+ Black as the pinions of night.
+ Swinging his scythe like a mower
+ Over a field of grain,
+ Needless the care of the gleaners,
+ Where he had passed amain.
+
+ Straight through the human harvest,
+ Cutting a bloody swath,
+ Woe to you, soldier of Briton!
+ Death is abroad in his path.
+ Flee from the scythe of the reaper,
+ Flee while the moment is thine,
+ None may with safety withstand him,
+ Black Samson of Brandywine.
+
+ Was he a freeman or bondman?
+ Was he a man or a thing?
+ What does it matter? His brav'ry
+ Renders him royal--a king.
+ If he was only a chattel,
+ Honor the ransom may pay
+ Of the royal, the loyal black giant
+ Who fought for his country that day.
+
+ Noble and bright is the story,
+ Worthy the touch of the lyre,
+ Sculptor or poet should find it
+ Full of the stuff to inspire.
+ Beat it in brass and in copper,
+ Tell it in storied line,
+ So that the world may remember
+ Black Samson of Brandywine.
+
+
+THE LOOKING-GLASS
+
+ Dinah stan' befo' de glass,
+ Lookin' moughty neat,
+ An' huh purty shadder sass
+ At huh haid an' feet.
+ While she sasshay 'roun' an' bow,
+ Smilin' den an' poutin' now,
+ An' de lookin'-glass, I 'low,
+ Say: "Now, ain't she sweet?"
+
+ All she do, de glass it see,
+ Hit des see, no mo',
+ Seems to me, hit ought to be
+ Drappin' on de flo'.
+ She go w'en huh time git slack,
+ Kissin' han's an' smilin' back,
+ Lawsy, how my lips go smack,
+ Watchin' at de do'.
+
+ Wisht I was huh lookin'-glass,
+ Wen she kissed huh han';
+ Does you t'ink I 'd let it pass,
+ Settin' on de stan'?
+ No; I'd des' fall down an' break,
+ Kin' o' glad 't uz fu' huh sake;
+ But de diffunce, dat whut make
+ Lookin'-glass an' man.
+
+
+A MISTY DAY
+
+ Heart of my heart, the day is chill,
+ The mist hangs low o'er the wooded hill,
+ The soft white mist and the heavy cloud
+ The sun and the face of heaven shroud.
+ The birds are thick in the dripping trees,
+ That drop their pearls to the beggar breeze;
+ No songs are rife where songs are wont,
+ Each singer crouches in his haunt.
+
+ Heart of my heart, the day is chill,
+ Whene'er thy loving voice is still,
+ The cloud and mist hide the sky from me,
+ Whene'er thy face I cannot see.
+ My thoughts fly back from the chill without,
+ My mind in the storm drops doubt on doubt,
+ No songs arise. Without thee, love,
+ My soul sinks down like a frightened dove.
+
+
+LI'L' GAL
+
+ Oh, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze is sighin' low.
+ Li'l' gal,
+ An' de mockin' bird is singin' in de locus' by de do',
+ Li'l' gal;
+ Dere 's a hummin' an' a bummin' in de lan' f'om eas' to wes',
+ I 's a-sighin' fu' you, honey, an' I nevah know no res'.
+ Fu' dey 's lots o' trouble brewin' an' a-stewin' in my breas',
+ Li'l' gal.
+
+ Whut 's de mattah wid de weathah, whut's de mattah wid de breeze,
+ Li'l' gal?
+ Whut 's de mattah wid de locus' dat 's a-singin' in de trees,
+ Li'l' gal?
+ W'y dey knows dey ladies love 'em, an' dey knows dey love 'em true,
+ An' dey love 'em back, I reckon, des' lak I 's a-lovin' you;
+ Dat 's de reason dey 's a-weavin' an' a-sighin', thoo an' thoo,
+ Li'l' gal.
+
+ Don't you let no da'ky fool you 'cause de clo'es he waihs is fine,
+ Li'l' gal.
+ Dey 's a hones' hea't a-beatin' unnerneaf dese rags o' mine,
+ Li'l' gal.
+ Cose dey ain' no use in mockin' whut de birds an' weathah do,
+ But I 's so'y I cain't 'spress it w'en I knows I loves you true,
+ Dat 's de reason I 's a-sighin' an' a-singin now fu' you,
+ Li'l' gal.
+
+
+DOUGLASS
+
+ Ah, Douglass, we have fall'n on evil days,
+ Such days as thou, not even thou didst know,
+ When thee, the eyes of that harsh long ago
+ Saw, salient, at the cross of devious ways,
+ And all the country heard thee with amaze.
+ Not ended then, the passionate ebb and flow,
+ The awful tide that battled to and fro;
+ We ride amid a tempest of dispraise.
+
+ Now, when the waves of swift dissension swarm,
+ And Honor, the strong pilot, lieth stark,
+ Oh, for thy voice high-sounding o'er the storm,
+ For thy strong arm to guide the shivering bark,
+ The blast-defying power of thy form,
+ To give us comfort through the lonely dark.
+
+
+WHEN SAM'L SINGS
+
+ Hyeah dat singin' in de medders
+ Whaih de folks is mekin' hay?
+ Wo'k is pretty middlin' heavy
+ Fu' a man to be so gay.
+ You kin tell dey 's somep'n special
+ F'om de canter o' de song;
+ Somep'n sholy pleasin' Sam'l,
+ W'en he singin' all day long.
+
+ Hyeahd him wa'blin' 'way dis mo'nin'
+ 'Fo' 't was light enough to see.
+ Seem lak music in de evenin'
+ Allus good enough fu' me.
+ But dat man commenced to hollah
+ 'Fo' he 'd even washed his face;
+ Would you b'lieve, de scan'lous rascal
+ Woke de birds erroun' de place?
+
+ Sam'l took a trip a-Sad'day;
+ Dressed hisse'f in all he had,
+ Tuk a cane an' went a-strollin',
+ Lookin' mighty pleased an' glad.
+ Some folks don' know whut de mattah,
+ But I do, you bet yo' life;
+ Sam'l smilin' an' a-singin'
+ 'Case he been to see his wife.
+
+ She live on de fu' plantation,
+ Twenty miles erway er so;
+ But huh man is mighty happy
+ Wen he git de chanst to go.
+ Walkin' allus ain' de nices'--
+ Mo'nin' fin's him on de way--
+ But he allus comes back smilin',
+ Lak his pleasure was his pay.
+
+ Den he do a heap o' talkin',
+ Do' he mos'ly kin' o' still,
+ But de wo'ds, dey gits to runnin'
+ Lak de watah fu' a mill.
+ "Whut 's de use o' havin' trouble,
+ Whut 's de use o' havin' strife?"
+ Dat 's de way dis Sam'l preaches
+ W'en he been to see his wife.
+
+ An' I reckon I git jealous,
+ Fu' I laff an' joke an' sco'n,
+ An' I say, "Oh, go on, Sam'l,
+ Des go on, an' blow yo' ho'n."
+ But I know dis comin' Sad'day,
+ Dey 'll be brighter days in life;
+ An' I 'll be ez glad ez Sam'l
+ W'en I go to see my wife.
+
+
+BOOKER T. WASHINGTON
+
+ The word is writ that he who runs may read.
+ What is the passing breath of earthly fame?
+ But to snatch glory from the hands of blame--
+ That is to be, to live, to strive indeed.
+ A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed,
+ And from its dark and lowly door there came
+ A peer of princes in the world's acclaim,
+ A master spirit for the nation's need.
+ Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,
+ The mark of rugged force on brow and lip,
+ Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind
+ Where hot the hounds come baying at his hip;
+ With one idea foremost in his mind,
+ Like the keen prow of some on-forging ship.
+
+
+THE MONK'S WALK
+
+ In this sombre garden close
+ What has come and passed, who knows?
+ What red passion, what white pain
+ Haunted this dim walk in vain?
+
+ Underneath the ivied wall,
+ Where the silent shadows fall,
+ Lies the pathway chill and damp
+ Where the world-quit dreamers tramp.
+
+ Just across, where sunlight burns,
+ Smiling at the mourning ferns,
+ Stand the roses, side by side,
+ Nodding in their useless pride.
+
+ Ferns and roses, who shall say
+ What you witness day by day?
+ Covert smile or dropping eye,
+ As the monks go pacing by.
+
+ Has the novice come to-day
+ Here beneath the wall to pray?
+ Has the young monk, lately chidden,
+ Sung his lyric, sweet, forbidden?
+
+ Tell me, roses, did you note
+ That pale father's throbbing throat?
+ Did you hear him murmur, "Love!"
+ As he kissed a faded glove?
+
+ Mourning ferns, pray tell me why
+ Shook you with that passing sigh?
+ Is it that you chanced to spy
+ Something in the Abbot's eye?
+
+ Here no dream, nor thought of sin,
+ Where no worlding enters in;
+ Here no longing, no desire,
+ Heat nor flame of earthly fire.
+
+ Branches waving green above,
+ Whisper naught of life nor love;
+ Softened winds that seem a breath,
+ Perfumed, bring no fear of death.
+
+ Is it living thus to live?
+ Has life nothing more to give?
+ Ah, no more of smile or sigh--
+ Life, the world, and love, good-bye.
+
+ Gray, and passionless, and dim,
+ Echoing of the solemn hymn,
+ Lies the walk, 'twixt fern and rose,
+ Here within the garden close.
+
+
+LOVE-SONG
+
+ If Death should claim me for her own to-day,
+ And softly I should falter from your side,
+ Oh, tell me, loved one, would my memory stay,
+ And would my image in your heart abide?
+ Or should I be as some forgotten dream,
+ That lives its little space, then fades entire?
+ Should Time send o'er you its relentless stream,
+ To cool your heart, and quench for aye love's fire?
+
+ I would not for the world, love, give you pain,
+ Or ever compass what would cause you grief;
+ And, oh, how well I know that tears are vain!
+ But love is sweet, my dear, and life is brief;
+ So if some day before you I should go
+ Beyond the sound and sight of song and sea,
+ 'T would give my spirit stronger wings to know
+ That you remembered still and wept for me.
+
+
+SLOW THROUGH THE DARK
+
+ Slow moves the pageant of a climbing race;
+ Their footsteps drag far, far below the height,
+ And, unprevailing by their utmost might,
+ Seem faltering downward from each hard won place.
+ No strange, swift-sprung exception we; we trace
+ A devious way thro' dim, uncertain light,--
+ Our hope, through the long vistaed years, a sight
+ Of that our Captain's soul sees face to face.
+ Who, faithless, faltering that the road is steep,
+ Now raiseth up his drear insistent cry?
+ Who stoppeth here to spend a while in sleep
+ Or curseth that the storm obscures the sky?
+ Heed not the darkness round you, dull and deep;
+ The clouds grow thickest when the summit's nigh.
+
+
+THE MURDERED LOVER
+
+ Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother,
+ Say a mass for my soul's repose, I need it,
+ Lovingly lived we, the sons of one mother,
+ Mine was the sin, but I pray you not heed it.
+
+ Dark were her eyes as the sloe and they called me,
+ Called me with voice independent of breath.
+ God! how my heart beat; her beauty appalled me,
+ Dazed me, and drew to the sea-brink of death.
+
+ Lithe was her form like a willow. She beckoned,
+ What could I do save to follow and follow,
+ Nothing of right or result could be reckoned;
+ Life without her was unworthy and hollow.
+
+ Ay, but I wronged thee, my brother, my brother;
+ Ah, but I loved her, thy beautiful wife.
+ Shade of our father, and soul of our mother,
+ Have I not paid for my love with my life?
+
+ Dark was the night when, revengeful, I met you,
+ Deep in the heart of a desolate land.
+ Warm was the life-blood which angrily wet you
+ Sharp was the knife that I felt from your hand.
+
+ Wept you, oh, wept you, alone by the river,
+ When my stark carcass you secretly sank.
+ Ha, now I see that you tremble and shiver;
+ 'T was but my spirit that passed when you shrank!
+
+ Weep not, oh, weep not, 't is over, 't is over;
+ Stir the dark weeds with the turn of the tide;
+ Go, thou hast sent me forth, ever a rover,
+ Rest and the sweet realm of heaven denied.
+
+ Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother,
+ Say a mass for my soul, I need it.
+ Sin of mine was it, and sin of no other,
+ Mine was it all, but I pray you not heed it.
+
+
+PHILOSOPHY
+
+ I been t'inkin' 'bout de preachah; whut he said de othah night,
+ 'Bout hit bein' people's dooty, fu' to keep dey faces bright;
+ How one ought to live so pleasant dat ouah tempah never riles,
+ Meetin' evahbody roun' us wid ouah very nicest smiles.
+
+ Dat 's all right, I ain't a-sputin' not a t'ing dat soun's lak fac',
+ But you don't ketch folks a-grinnin' wid a misery in de back;
+ An' you don't fin' dem a-smilin' w'en dey 's hongry ez kin be,
+ Leastways, dat 's how human natur' allus seems to 'pear to me.
+
+ We is mos' all putty likely fu' to have our little cares,
+ An' I think we 'se doin' fus' rate w'en we jes' go long and bears,
+ Widout breakin' up ouah faces in a sickly so't o' grin,
+ W'en we knows dat in ouah innards we is p'intly mad ez sin.
+
+ Oh dey 's times fu' bein' pleasant an' fu' goin' smilin' roun',
+ 'Cause I don't believe in people allus totin' roun' a frown,
+ But it's easy 'nough to titter w'en de stew is smokin' hot,
+ But hit's mighty ha'd to giggle w'en dey's nuffin' in de pot.
+
+
+A PREFERENCE
+
+ Mastah drink his ol' Made'a,
+ Missy drink huh sherry wine,
+ Ovahseah lak his whiskey,
+ But dat othah drink is mine,
+ Des' 'lasses an' watah, 'lasses an' watah.
+
+ Wen you git a steamin' hoe-cake
+ On de table, go way, man!
+ 'D ain but one t'ing to go wid it,
+ 'Sides de gravy in de pan,
+ Dat 's 'lasses an' watah, 'lasses an' watah.
+
+ W'en hit 's 'possum dat you eatin',
+ 'Simmon beer is moughty sweet;
+ But fu' evahday consumin'
+ 'D ain't no mo'tal way to beat
+ Des' 'lasses an' watah, 'lasses an' watah.
+
+ W'y de bees is allus busy,
+ An' ain' got no time to was'?
+ Hit's beca'se dey knows de honey
+ Dey 's a makin', gwine to tas'
+ Lak 'lasses an' watah, 'lasses an' watah.
+
+ Oh, hit 's moughty mil' an' soothin',
+ An' hit don' go to yo' haid;
+ Dat 's de reason I 's a-backin'
+ Up de othah wo'ds I said,
+ "Des 'lasses an' watah, 'lasses an' watah."
+
+
+THE DEBT
+
+ This is the debt I pay
+ Just for one riotous day,
+ Years of regret and grief,
+ Sorrow without relief.
+
+ Pay it I will to the end--
+ Until the grave, my friend,
+ Gives me a true release--
+ Gives me the clasp of peace.
+
+ Slight was the thing I bought,
+ Small was the debt I thought,
+ Poor was the loan at best--
+ God! but the interest!
+
+
+ON THE DEDICATION OF DOROTHY HALL
+
+TUSKEGEE, ALA., APRIL 22, 1901.
+
+ Not to the midnight of the gloomy past,
+ Do we revert to-day; we look upon
+ The golden present and the future vast
+ Whose vistas show us visions of the dawn.
+
+ Nor shall the sorrows of departed years
+ The sweetness of our tranquil souls annoy,
+ The sunshine of our hopes dispels the tears,
+ And clears our eyes to see this later joy.
+
+ Not ever in the years that God hath given
+ Have we gone friendless down the thorny way,
+ Always the clouds of pregnant black were riven
+ By flashes from His own eternal day.
+
+ The women of a race should be its pride;
+ We glory in the strength our mothers had,
+ We glory that this strength was not denied
+ To labor bravely, nobly, and be glad.
+
+ God give to these within this temple here,
+ Clear vision of the dignity of toil,
+ That virtue in them may its blossoms rear
+ Unspotted, fragrant, from the lowly soil.
+
+ God bless the givers for their noble deed,
+ Shine on them with the mercy of Thy face,
+ Who come with open hearts to help and speed
+ The striving women of a struggling race.
+
+
+A ROADWAY
+
+ Let those who will stride on their barren roads
+ And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads,
+ Unheeding, as they struggle day by day,
+ If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray:
+ For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks,
+ The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks,
+ A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay,
+ A pause to pick a flower beside the way.
+
+
+BY RUGGED WAYS
+
+ By rugged ways and thro' the night
+ We struggle blindly toward the light;
+ And groping, stumbling, ever pray
+ For sight of long delaying day.
+ The cruel thorns beside the road
+ Stretch eager points our steps to goad,
+ And from the thickets all about
+ Detaining hands reach threatening out.
+
+ "Deliver us, oh, Lord," we cry,
+ Our hands uplifted to the sky.
+ No answer save the thunder's peal,
+ And onward, onward, still we reel.
+ "Oh, give us now thy guiding light;"
+ Our sole reply, the lightning's blight.
+ "Vain, vain," cries one, "in vain we call;"
+ But faith serene is over all.
+
+ Beside our way the streams are dried,
+ And famine mates us side by side.
+ Discouraged and reproachful eyes
+ Seek once again the frowning skies.
+ Yet shall there come, spite storm and shock,
+ A Moses who shall smite the rock,
+ Call manna from the Giver's hand,
+ And lead us to the promised land!
+
+ The way is dark and cold and steep,
+ And shapes of horror murder sleep,
+ And hard the unrelenting years;
+ But 'twixt our sighs and moans and tears,
+ We still can smile, we still can sing,
+ Despite the arduous journeying.
+ For faith and hope their courage lend,
+ And rest and light are at the end.
+
+
+LOVE'S SEASONS
+
+ When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine
+ And the summer days are in their bloom,
+ Then my love is deepest, oh, dearest heart of mine,
+ When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine.
+
+ When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray,
+ And the land is dim with winter gloom,
+ Then for thee, my darling, love will have its way,
+ When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray.
+
+ In the vernal dawning with the starting of the leaf,
+ In the merry-chanting time of spring,
+ Love steals all my senses, oh, the happy-hearted thief!
+ In the vernal morning with the starting of the leaf.
+
+ Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear,
+ When the days are sighing out their grief,
+ Thou art still my darling, dearest of the dear,
+ Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear.
+
+
+TO A DEAD FRIEND
+
+ It is as if a silver chord
+ Were suddenly grown mute,
+ And life's song with its rhythm warred
+ Against a silver lute.
+
+ It is as if a silence fell
+ Where bides the garnered sheaf,
+ And voices murmuring, "It is well,"
+ Are stifled by our grief.
+
+ It is as if the gloom of night
+ Had hid a summer's day,
+ And willows, sighing at their plight,
+ Bent low beside the way.
+
+ For he was part of all the best
+ That Nature loves and gives,
+ And ever more on Memory's breast
+ He lies and laughs and lives.
+
+
+TO THE SOUTH
+
+ON ITS NEW SLAVERY
+
+ Heart of the Southland, heed me pleading now,
+ Who bearest, unashamed, upon my brow
+ The long kiss of the loving tropic sun,
+ And yet, whose veins with thy red current run.
+
+ Borne on the bitter winds from every hand,
+ Strange tales are flying over all the land,
+ And Condemnation, with his pinions foul,
+ Glooms in the place where broods the midnight owl.
+
+ What art thou, that the world should point at thee,
+ And vaunt and chide the weakness that they see?
+ There was a time they were not wont to chide;
+ Where is thy old, uncompromising pride?
+
+ Blood-washed, thou shouldst lift up thine honored head,
+ White with the sorrow for thy loyal dead
+ Who lie on every plain, on every hill,
+ And whose high spirit walks the Southland still:
+
+ Whose infancy our mother's hands have nursed.
+ Thy manhood, gone to battle unaccursed,
+ Our fathers left to till th' reluctant field,
+ To rape the soil for what she would not yield;
+
+ Wooing for aye, the cold unam'rous sod,
+ Whose growth for them still meant a master's rod;
+ Tearing her bosom for the wealth that gave
+ The strength that made the toiler still a slave.
+
+ Too long we hear the deep impassioned cry
+ That echoes vainly to the heedless sky;
+ Too long, too long, the Macedonian call
+ Falls fainting far beyond the outward wall,
+
+ Within whose sweep, beneath the shadowing trees,
+ A slumbering nation takes its dangerous ease;
+ Too long the rumors of thy hatred go
+ For those who loved thee and thy children so.
+
+ Thou must arise forthwith, and strong, thou must
+ Throw off the smirching of this baser dust,
+ Lay by the practice of this later creed,
+ And be thine honest self again indeed.
+
+ There was a time when even slavery's chain
+ Held in some joys to alternate with pain,
+ Some little light to give the night relief,
+ Some little smiles to take the place of grief.
+
+ There was a time when, jocund as the day,
+ The toiler hoed his row and sung his lay,
+ Found something gleeful in the very air,
+ And solace for his toiling everywhere.
+
+ Now all is changed, within the rude stockade,
+ A bondsman whom the greed of men has made
+ Almost too brutish to deplore his plight,
+ Toils hopeless on from joyless morn till night.
+
+ For him no more the cabin's quiet rest,
+ The homely joys that gave to labor zest;
+ No more for him the merry banjo's sound,
+ Nor trip of lightsome dances footing round.
+
+ For him no more the lamp shall glow at eve,
+ Nor chubby children pluck him by the sleeve;
+ No more for him the master's eyes be bright,--
+ He has nor freedom's nor a slave's delight.
+
+ What, was it all for naught, those awful years
+ That drenched a groaning land with blood and tears?
+ Was it to leave this sly convenient hell,
+ That brother fighting his own brother fell?
+
+ When that great struggle held the world in awe,
+ And all the nations blanched at what they saw,
+ Did Sanctioned Slavery bow its conquered head
+ That this unsanctioned crime might rise instead?
+
+ Is it for this we all have felt the flame,--
+ This newer bondage and this deeper shame?
+ Nay, not for this, a nation's heroes bled,
+ And North and South with tears beheld their dead.
+
+ Oh, Mother South, hast thou forgot thy ways,
+ Forgot the glory of thine ancient days,
+ Forgot the honor that once made thee great,
+ And stooped to this unhallowed estate?
+
+ It cannot last, thou wilt come forth in might,
+ A warrior queen full armored for the fight;
+ And thou wilt take, e'en with thy spear in rest,
+ Thy dusky children to thy saving breast.
+
+ Till then, no more, no more the gladsome song,
+ Strike only deeper chords, the notes of wrong;
+ Till then, the sigh, the tear, the oath, the moan,
+ Till thou, oh, South, and thine, come to thine own.
+
+
+THE HAUNTED OAK
+
+ Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
+ Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;
+ And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
+ Runs a shudder over me?
+
+ My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
+ And sap ran free in my veins,
+ But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird
+ A guiltless victim's pains.
+
+ I bent me down to hear his sigh;
+ I shook with his gurgling moan,
+ And I trembled sore when they rode away,
+ And left him here alone.
+
+ They 'd charged him with the old, old crime,
+ And set him fast in jail:
+ Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,
+ And why does the night wind wail?
+
+ He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,
+ And he raised his hand to the sky;
+ But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,
+ And the steady tread drew nigh.
+
+ Who is it rides by night, by night,
+ Over the moonlit road?
+ And what is the spur that keeps the pace,
+ What is the galling goad?
+
+ And now they beat at the prison door,
+ "Ho, keeper, do not stay!
+ We are friends of him whom you hold within,
+ And we fain would take him away
+
+ "From those who ride fast on our heels
+ With mind to do him wrong;
+ They have no care for his innocence,
+ And the rope they bear is long."
+
+ They have fooled the jailer with lying words,
+ They have fooled the man with lies;
+ The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,
+ And the great door open flies.
+
+ Now they have taken him from the jail,
+ And hard and fast they ride,
+ And the leader laughs low down in his throat,
+ As they halt my trunk beside.
+
+ Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,
+ And the doctor one of white,
+ And the minister, with his oldest son,
+ Was curiously bedight.
+
+ Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?
+ 'Tis but a little space,
+ And the time will come when these shall dread
+ The mem'ry of your face.
+
+ I feel the rope against my bark,
+ And the weight of him in my grain,
+ I feel in the throe of his final woe
+ The touch of my own last pain.
+
+ And never more shall leaves come forth
+ On a bough that bears the ban;
+ I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,
+ From the curse of a guiltless man.
+
+ And ever the judge rides by, rides by,
+ And goes to hunt the deer,
+ And ever another rides his soul
+ In the guise of a mortal fear.
+
+ And ever the man he rides me hard,
+ And never a night stays he;
+ For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,
+ On the trunk of a haunted tree.
+
+
+WELTSCHMERTZ
+
+ You ask why I am sad to-day,
+ I have no cares, no griefs, you say?
+ Ah, yes, 't is true, I have no grief--
+ But--is there not the falling leaf?
+
+ The bare tree there is mourning left
+ With all of autumn's gray bereft;
+ It is not what has happened me,
+ Think of the bare, dismantled tree.
+
+ The birds go South along the sky,
+ I hear their lingering, long good-bye.
+ Who goes reluctant from my breast?
+ And yet--the lone and wind-swept nest.
+
+ The mourning, pale-flowered hearse goes by,
+ Why does a tear come to my eye?
+ Is it the March rain blowing wild?
+ I have no dead, I know no child.
+
+ I am no widow by the bier
+ Of him I held supremely dear.
+ I have not seen the choicest one
+ Sink down as sinks the westering sun.
+
+ Faith unto faith have I beheld,
+ For me, few solemn notes have swelled;
+ Love bekoned me out to the dawn,
+ And happily I followed on.
+
+ And yet my heart goes out to them
+ Whose sorrow is their diadem;
+ The falling leaf, the crying bird,
+ The voice to be, all lost, unheard--
+
+ Not mine, not mine, and yet too much
+ The thrilling power of human touch,
+ While all the world looks on and scorns
+ I wear another's crown of thorns.
+
+ Count me a priest who understands
+ The glorious pain of nail-pierced hands;
+ Count me a comrade of the thief
+ Hot driven into late belief.
+
+ Oh, mother's tear, oh, father's sigh,
+ Oh, mourning sweetheart's last good-bye,
+ I yet have known no mourning save
+ Beside some brother's brother's grave.
+
+
+ROBERT GOULD SHAW
+
+ Why was it that the thunder voice of Fate
+ Should call thee, studious, from the classic groves,
+ Where calm-eyed Pallas with still footstep roves,
+ And charge thee seek the turmoil of the state?
+ What bade thee hear the voice and rise elate,
+ Leave home and kindred and thy spicy loaves,
+ To lead th' unlettered and despised droves
+ To manhood's home and thunder at the gate?
+
+ Far better the slow blaze of Learning's light,
+ The cool and quiet of her dearer fane,
+ Than this hot terror of a hopeless fight,
+ This cold endurance of the final pain,--
+ Since thou and those who with thee died for right
+ Have died, the Present teaches, but in vain!
+
+
+ROSES
+
+ Oh, wind of the spring-time, oh, free wind of May,
+ When blossoms and bird-song are rife;
+ Oh, joy for the season, and joy for the day,
+ That gave me the roses of life, of life,
+ That gave me the roses of life.
+
+ Oh, wind of the summer, sing loud in the night,
+ When flutters my heart like a dove;
+ One came from thy kingdom, thy realm of delight,
+ And gave me the roses of love, of love,
+ And gave me the roses of love.
+
+ Oh, wind of the winter, sigh low in thy grief,
+ I hear thy compassionate breath;
+ I wither, I fall, like the autumn-kissed leaf,
+ He gave me the roses of death, of death,
+ He gave me the roses of death.
+
+
+A LOVE SONG
+
+ Ah, love, my love is like a cry in the night,
+ A long, loud cry to the empty sky,
+ The cry of a man alone in the desert,
+ With hands uplifted, with parching lips,
+
+ Oh, rescue me, rescue me,
+ Thy form to mine arms,
+ The dew of thy lips to my mouth,
+ Dost thou hear me?--my call thro' the night?
+
+ Darling, I hear thee and answer,
+ Thy fountain am I,
+ All of the love of my soul will I bring to thee,
+ All of the pains of my being shall wring to thee,
+ Deep and forever the song of my loving shall sing to thee,
+ Ever and ever thro' day and thro' night shall I cling to thee.
+ Hearest thou the answer?
+ Darling, I come, I come.
+
+
+ITCHING HEELS
+
+ Fu' de peace o' my eachin' heels, set down;
+ Don' fiddle dat chune no mo'.
+ Don' you see how dat melody stuhs me up
+ An' baigs me to tek to de flo'?
+ You knows I 's a Christian, good an' strong;
+ I wusship f'om June to June;
+ My pra'ahs dey ah loud an' my hymns ah long:
+ I baig you don' fiddle dat chune.
+
+ I 's a crick in my back an' a misery hyeah
+ Whaih de j'ints 's gittin' ol' an' stiff,
+ But hit seems lak you brings me de bref o' my youf;
+ W'y, I 's suttain I noticed a w'iff.
+ Don' fiddle dat chune no mo', my chile,
+ Don' fiddle dat chune no mo';
+ I 'll git up an' taih up dis groun' fu' a mile,
+ An' den I 'll be chu'ched fu' it, sho'.
+
+ Oh, fiddle dat chune some mo', I say,
+ An' fiddle it loud an' fas':
+ I's a youngstah ergin in de mi'st o' my sin;
+ De p'esent 's gone back to de pas'.
+ I 'll dance to dat chune, so des fiddle erway;
+ I knows how de backslidah feels;
+ So fiddle it on 'twell de break o' de day
+ Fu' de sake o' my eachin' heels.
+
+
+TO AN INGRATE
+
+ This is to-day, a golden summer's day
+ And yet--and yet
+ My vengeful soul will not forget
+ The past, forever now forgot, you say.
+
+ From that half height where I had sadly climbed,
+ I stretched my hand,
+ I lone in all that land,
+ Down there, where, helpless, you were limed.
+
+ Our fingers clasped, and dragging me a pace,
+ You struggled up.
+ It is a bitter Cup,
+ That now for naught, you turn away your face.
+
+ I shall remember this for aye and aye.
+ Whate'er may come,
+ Although my lips are dumb,
+ My spirit holds you to that yesterday.
+
+
+IN THE TENTS OF AKBAR
+
+ In the tents of Akbar
+ Are dole and grief to-day,
+ For the flower of all the Indies
+ Has gone the silent way.
+
+ In the tents of Akbar
+ Are emptiness and gloom,
+ And where the dancers gather,
+ The silence of the tomb.
+
+ Across the yellow desert,
+ Across the burning sands,
+ Old Akbar wanders madly,
+ And wrings his fevered hands.
+
+ And ever makes his moaning
+ To the unanswering sky,
+ For Sutna, lovely Sutna,
+ Who was so fair to die.
+
+ For Sutna danced at morning,
+ And Sutna danced at eve;
+ Her dusky eyes half hidden
+ Behind her silken sleeve.
+
+ Her pearly teeth out-glancing
+ Between her coral lips,
+ The tremulous rhythm of passion
+ Marked by her quivering hips.
+
+ As lovely as a jewel
+ Of fire and dewdrop blent,
+ So danced the maiden Sutna
+ In gallant Akbar's tent.
+
+ And one who saw her dancing,
+ Saw her bosom's fall and rise
+ Put all his body's yearning
+ Into his lovelit eyes.
+
+ Then Akbar came and drove him--
+ A jackal--from his door,
+ And bade him wander far and look
+ On Sutna's face no more.
+
+ Some day the sea disgorges,
+ The wilderness gives back,
+ Those half-dead who have wandered,
+ Aimless, across its track.
+
+ And he returned--the lover,
+ Haggard of brow and spent;
+ He found fair Sutna standing
+ Before her master's tent.
+
+ "Not mine, nor Akbar's, Sutna!"
+ He cried and closely pressed,
+ And drove his craven dagger
+ Straight to the maiden's breast.
+
+ Oh, weep, oh, weep, for Sutna,
+ So young, so dear, so fair,
+ Her face is gray and silent
+ Beneath her dusky hair.
+
+ And wail, oh, wail, for Akbar,
+ Who walks the desert sands,
+ Crying aloud for Sutna,
+ Wringing his fevered hands.
+
+ In the tents of Akbar
+ The tears of sorrow run,
+ But the corpse of Sutna's slayer,
+ Lies rotting in the sun.
+
+
+THE FOUNT OF TEARS
+
+ All hot and grimy from the road,
+ Dust gray from arduous years,
+ I sat me down and eased my load
+ Beside the Fount of Tears.
+
+ The waters sparkled to my eye,
+ Calm, crystal-like, and cool,
+ And breathing there a restful sigh,
+ I bent me to the pool.
+
+ When, lo! a voice cried: "Pilgrim, rise,
+ Harsh tho' the sentence be,
+ And on to other lands and skies--
+ This fount is not for thee.
+
+ "Pass on, but calm thy needless fears,
+ Some may not love or sin,
+ An angel guards the Fount of Tears;
+ All may not bathe therein."
+
+ Then with my burden on my back
+ I turned to gaze awhile,
+ First at the uninviting track,
+ Then at the water's smile.
+
+ And so I go upon my way,
+ Thro'out the sultry years,
+ But pause no more, by night, by day,
+ Beside the Fount of Tears.
+
+
+LIFE'S TRAGEDY
+
+ It may be misery not to sing at all
+ And to go silent through the brimming day.
+ It may be sorrow never to be loved,
+ But deeper griefs than these beset the way.
+
+ To have come near to sing the perfect song
+ And only by a half-tone lost the key,
+ There is the potent sorrow, there the grief,
+ The pale, sad staring of life's tragedy.
+
+ To have just missed the perfect love,
+ Not the hot passion of untempered youth,
+ But that which lays aside its vanity
+ And gives thee, for thy trusting worship, truth--
+
+ This, this it is to be accursed indeed;
+ For if we mortals love, or if we sing,
+ We count our joys not by the things we have,
+ But by what kept us from the perfect thing.
+
+
+DE WAY T'INGS COME
+
+ De way t'ings come, hit seems to me,
+ Is des' one monst'ous mystery;
+ De way hit seem to strike a man,
+ Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan;
+ Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down,
+ It ain't no use to rage er frown,
+ It ain't no use to strive er pray,
+ Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.
+
+ Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate
+ Des' keep on sayin' to you, "Wait,"
+ Don't mek no diffunce how you feel,
+ 'T won't do no good to hunt a meal,
+ Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide
+ Ontwell de devil's satisfied,
+ An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave
+ You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.
+
+ But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f
+ You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f,
+ Somebody's boun' to amble in
+ An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin;
+ An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat
+ Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat,
+ Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho
+ A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.
+
+ De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile,
+ Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile;
+ I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt,
+ I des' won't try to reason out
+ De reason why folks strive an' plan
+ A dinnah fu' a full-fed man,
+ An' shet de do' an' cross de street
+ F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.
+
+
+NOON
+
+ Shadder in de valley
+ Sunlight on de hill,
+ Sut'ny wish dat locus'
+ Knowed how to be still.
+ Don't de heat already
+ Mek a body hum,
+ 'Dout dat insec' sayin'
+ Hottah days to come?
+
+ Fiel' 's a shinin' yaller
+ Wid de bendin' grain,
+ Guinea hen a callin',
+ Now's de time fu' rain;
+ Shet yo' mouf, you rascal,
+ Wha' 's de use to cry?
+ You do' see no rain clouds
+ Up dah in de sky.
+
+ Dis hyeah sweat's been po'in'
+ Down my face sence dawn;
+ Ain't hit time we 's hyeahin'
+ Dat ah dinnah ho'n?
+ Go on, Ben an' Jaspah,
+ Lif yo' feet an' fly,
+ Hit out fu' de shadder
+ Fo' I drap an' die.
+
+ Hongry, lawd a' mussy,
+ Hongry as a baih,
+ Seems lak I hyeah dinnah
+ Callin' evahwhaih;
+ Daih 's de ho'n a blowin'!
+ Let dat cradle swing,
+ One mo' sweep, den da'kies,
+ Beat me to de spring!
+
+
+AT THE TAVERN
+
+ A lilt and a swing,
+ And a ditty to sing,
+ Or ever the night grow old;
+ The wine is within,
+ And I 'm sure 't were a sin
+ For a soldier to choose to be cold, my dear,
+ For a soldier to choose to be cold.
+
+ We 're right for a spell,
+ But the fever is--well,
+ No thing to be braved, at least;
+ So bring me the wine;
+ No low fever in mine,
+ For a drink is more kind than a priest, my dear,
+ For a drink is more kind than a priest.
+
+
+DEATH
+
+ Storm and strife and stress,
+ Lost in a wilderness,
+ Groping to find a way,
+ Forth to the haunts of day
+
+ Sudden a vista peeps,
+ Out of the tangled deeps,
+ Only a point--the ray
+ But at the end is day.
+
+ Dark is the dawn and chill,
+ Daylight is on the hill,
+ Night is the flitting breath,
+ Day rides the hills of death.
+
+
+NIGHT, DIM NIGHT
+
+ Night, dim night, and it rains, my love, it rains,
+ (Art thou dreaming of me, I wonder)
+ The trees are sad, and the wind complains,
+ Outside the rolling of the thunder,
+ And the beat against the panes.
+
+ Heart, my heart, thou art mournful in the rain,
+ (Are thy redolent lips a-quiver?)
+ My soul seeks thine, doth it seek in vain?
+ My love goes surging like a river,
+ Shall its tide bear naught save pain?
+
+
+
+
+LYRICS OF LOVE AND SORROW
+
+I
+
+ Love is the light of the world, my dear,
+ Heigho, but the world is gloomy;
+ The light has failed and the lamp down hurled,
+ Leaves only darkness to me.
+
+ Love is the light of the world, my dear,
+ Ah me, but the world is dreary;
+ The night is down, and my curtain furled
+ But I cannot sleep, though weary.
+
+ Love is the light of the world, my dear,
+ Alas for a hopeless hoping,
+ When the flame went out in the breeze that swirled,
+ And a soul went blindly groping.
+
+
+II
+
+ The light was on the golden sands,
+ A glimmer on the sea;
+ My soul spoke clearly to thy soul,
+ Thy spirit answered me.
+
+ Since then the light that gilds the sands,
+ And glimmers on the sea,
+ But vainly struggles to reflect
+ The radiant soul of thee.
+
+
+III
+
+ The sea speaks to me of you
+ All the day long;
+ Still as I sit by its side
+ You are its song.
+
+ The sea sings to me of you
+ Loud on the reef;
+ Always it moans as it sings,
+ Voicing my grief.
+
+
+IV
+
+ My dear love died last night;
+ Shall I clothe her in white?
+ My passionate love is dead,
+ Shall I robe her in red?
+ But nay, she was all untrue,
+ She shall not go drest in blue;
+ Still my desolate love was brave,
+ Unrobed let her go to her grave.
+
+
+V
+
+ There are brilliant heights of sorrow
+ That only the few may know;
+ And the lesser woes of the world, like waves,
+ Break noiselessly, far below.
+ I hold for my own possessing,
+ A mount that is lone and still--
+ The great high place of a hopeless grief,
+ And I call it my "Heart-break Hill."
+ And once on a winter's midnight
+ I found its highest crown,
+ And there in the gloom, my soul and I,
+ Weeping, we sat us down.
+
+ But now when I seek that summit
+ We are two ghosts that go;
+ Only two shades of a thing that died,
+ Once in the long ago.
+ So I sit me down in the silence,
+ And say to my soul, "Be still,"
+ So the world may not know we died that night,
+ From weeping on "Heart-break Hill."
+
+
+
+
+LYRICS OF SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
+
+
+A BOY'S SUMMER SONG
+
+ 'Tis fine to play
+ In the fragrant hay,
+ And romp on the golden load;
+ To ride old Jack
+ To the barn and back,
+ Or tramp by a shady road.
+ To pause and drink,
+ At a mossy brink;
+ Ah, that is the best of joy,
+ And so I say
+ On a summer's day,
+ What's so fine as being a boy?
+ Ha, Ha!
+
+ With line and hook
+ By a babbling brook,
+ The fisherman's sport we ply;
+ And list the song
+ Of the feathered throng
+ That flit in the branches nigh.
+ At last we strip
+ For a quiet dip;
+ Ah, that is the best of joy.
+ For this I say
+ On a summer's day,
+ What's so fine as being a boy?
+ Ha, Ha!
+
+
+THE SAND-MAN
+
+ I know a man
+ With face of tan,
+ But who is ever kind;
+ Whom girls and boys
+ Leaves games and toys
+ Each eventide to find.
+
+ When day grows dim,
+ They watch for him,
+ He comes to place his claim;
+ He wears the crown
+ Of Dreaming-town;
+ The sand-man is his name.
+
+ When sparkling eyes
+ Troop sleepywise
+ And busy lips grow dumb;
+ When little heads
+ Nod toward the beds,
+ We know the sand-man's come.
+
+
+JOHNNY SPEAKS
+
+ The sand-man he's a jolly old fellow,
+ His face is kind and his voice is mellow,
+ But he makes your eyelids as heavy as lead,
+ And then you got to go off to bed;
+ I don't think I like the sand-man.
+
+ But I've been playing this livelong day;
+ It does make a fellow so tired to play!
+ Oh, my, I'm a-yawning right here before ma,
+ I'm the sleepiest fellow that ever you saw.
+ I think I do like the sand-man.
+
+
+WINTER-SONG
+
+ Oh, who would be sad tho' the sky be a-graying,
+ And meadow and woodlands are empty and bare;
+ For softly and merrily now there come playing,
+ The little white birds thro' the winter-kissed air.
+
+ The squirrel's enjoying the rest of the thrifty,
+ He munches his store in the old hollow tree;
+ Tho' cold is the blast and the snow-flakes are drifty
+ He fears the white flock not a whit more than we.
+
+ _Chorus:_
+
+ Then heigho for the flying snow!
+ Over the whitened roads we go,
+ With pulses that tingle,
+ And sleigh-bells a-jingle
+ For winter's white birds here's a cheery heigho!
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG
+
+ De win' is blowin' wahmah,
+ An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;
+ Dey's a so't o' mist a-risin'
+ All erlong de meddah way;
+ Dey ain't a hint o' frostin'
+ On de groun' ner in de sky,
+ An' dey ain't no use in hopin'
+ Dat de snow'll 'mence to fly.
+ It's goin' to be a green Christmas,
+ An' sad de day fu' me.
+ I wish dis was de las' one
+ Dat evah I should see.
+
+ Dey's dancin' in de cabin,
+ Dey's spahkin' by de tree;
+ But dancin' times an' spahkin'
+ Are all done pas' fur me.
+ Dey's feastin' in de big house,
+ Wid all de windahs wide--
+ Is dat de way fu' people
+ To meet de Christmas-tide?
+ It's goin' to be a green Christmas,
+ No mattah what you say.
+ Dey's us dat will remembah
+ An' grieve de comin' day.
+
+ Dey's des a bref o' dampness
+ A-clingin' to my cheek;
+ De aih's been dahk an' heavy
+ An' threatenin' fu' a week,
+ But not wid signs o' wintah,
+ Dough wintah'd seem so deah--
+ De wintah's out o' season,
+ An' Christmas eve is heah.
+ It's goin' to be a green Christmas,
+ An' oh, how sad de day!
+ Go ax de hongry chu'chya'd,
+ An' see what hit will say.
+
+ Dey's Allen on de hillside,
+ An' Marfy in de plain;
+ Fu' Christmas was like springtime,
+ An' come wid sun an' rain.
+ Dey's Ca'line, John, an' Susie,
+ Wid only dis one lef':
+ An' now de curse is comin'
+ Wid murder in hits bref.
+ It's goin' to be a green Christmas--
+ Des hyeah my words an' see:
+ Befo' de summah beckons
+ Dey's many 'll weep wid me.
+
+
+THE FOREST GREETING
+
+ Good hunting!--aye, good hunting,
+ Wherever the forests call;
+ But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
+ And what of the birds that fall?
+
+ Good hunting!--aye, good hunting,
+ Wherever the north winds blow;
+ But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
+ And what of the wounded doe?
+
+ Good hunting!--aye, good hunting;
+ And ah! we are bold and strong;
+ But our triumph call through the forest hall
+ Is a brother's funeral song.
+
+ For we are brothers ever,
+ Panther and bird and bear;
+ Man and the weakest that fear his face,
+ Born to the nest or lair.
+
+ Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
+ Hunters and game are we;
+ But who gave the right for me to smite?
+ Who boasts when he smiteth me?
+
+ Good hunting!--aye, good hunting,
+ And dim is the forest track;
+ But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
+ Brothers, the way is black.
+
+
+THE LILY OF THE VALLEY
+
+ Sweetest of the flowers a-blooming
+ In the fragrant vernal days
+ Is the Lily of the Valley
+ With its soft, retiring ways.
+
+ Well, you chose this humble blossom
+ As the nurse's emblem flower,
+ Who grows more like her ideal
+ Every day and every hour.
+
+ Like the Lily of the Valley
+ In her honesty and worth,
+ Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue
+ In the quiet nooks of earth.
+
+ Tho' she stands erect in honor
+ When the heart of mankind bleeds,
+ Still she hides her own deserving
+ In the beauty of her deeds.
+
+ In the silence of the darkness
+ Where no eye may see and know,
+ There her footsteps shod with mercy,
+ And fleet kindness come and go.
+
+ Not amid the sounds of plaudits,
+ Nor before the garish day,
+ Does she shed her soul's sweet perfume,
+ Does she take her gentle way.
+
+ But alike her ideal flower,
+ With its honey-laden breath,
+ Still her heart blooms forth its beauty
+ In the valley shades of death.
+
+
+ENCOURAGED
+
+ Because you love me I have much achieved,
+ Had you despised me then I must have failed,
+ But since I knew you trusted and believed,
+ I could not disappoint you and so prevailed.
+
+
+TO J. Q.
+
+ What are the things that make life bright?
+ A star gleam in the night.
+ What hearts us for the coming fray?
+ The dawn tints of the day.
+ What helps to speed the weary mile?
+ A brother's friendly smile.
+ What turns o' gold the evening gray?
+ A flower beside the way.
+
+
+DIPLOMACY
+
+ Tell your love where the roses blow,
+ And the hearts of the lilies quiver,
+ Not in the city's gleam and glow,
+ But down by a half-sunned river.
+ Not in the crowded ball-room's glare,
+ That would be fatal, Marie, Marie,
+ How can she answer you then and there?
+ So come then and stroll with me, my dear,
+ Down where the birds call, Marie, Marie.
+
+
+SCAMP
+
+ Ain't it nice to have a mammy
+ W'en you kin' o' tiahed out
+ Wid a-playin' in de meddah,
+ An' a-runnin' roun' about
+ Till hit's made you mighty hongry,
+ An' yo' nose hit gits to know
+ What de smell means dat 's a-comin'
+ F'om de open cabin do'?
+ She wash yo' face,
+ An' mek yo' place,
+ You's hongry as a tramp;
+ Den hit's eat you suppah right away,
+ You sta'vin' little scamp.
+
+ W'en you's full o' braid an' bacon,
+ An' dey ain't no mo' to eat,
+ An' de lasses dat's a-stickin'
+ On yo' face ta'se kin' o' sweet,
+ Don' you t'ink hit's kin' o' pleasin'
+ Fu' to have som'body neah
+ Dat'll wipe yo' han's an' kiss you
+ Fo' dey lif' you f'om you' cheah?
+ To smile so sweet,
+ An' wash yo' feet,
+ An' leave 'em co'l an' damp;
+ Den hit's come let me undress you, now
+ You lazy little scamp.
+
+ Don' yo' eyes git awful heavy,
+ An' yo' lip git awful slack,
+ Ain't dey som'p'n' kin' o' weaknin'
+ In de backbone of yo' back?
+ Don' yo' knees feel kin' o' trimbly,
+ An' yo' head go bobbin' roun',
+ W'en you says yo' "Now I lay me,"
+ An' is sno'in on de "down"?
+ She kiss yo' nose,
+ She kiss yo' toes,
+ An' den tu'n out de lamp,
+ Den hit's creep into yo' trunnel baid,
+ You sleepy little scamp.
+
+
+WADIN' IN DE CRICK
+
+ Days git wa'm an' wa'mah,
+ School gits mighty dull,
+ Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs
+ Mus' feel mussiful.
+ Hookey's wrong, I know it
+ Ain't no gent'man's trick;
+ But de aih's a-callin',
+ "Come on to de crick."
+
+ Dah de watah's gu'glin'
+ Ovah shiny stones,
+ Des hit's ve'y singin'
+ Seems to soothe yo' bones.
+ Wat's de use o' waitin'
+ Go on good an' quick:
+ Dain't no fun lak dis hyeah
+ Wadin' in de crick.
+
+ W'at dat jay-b'ud sayin'?
+ Bettah shet yo' haid,
+ Fus' t'ing dat you fin' out,
+ You'll be layin' daid.
+ Jay-bu'ds sich a tattlah,
+ Des seem lak his trick
+ Fu' to tell on folkses
+ Wadin' in de crick.
+
+ Wilier boughs a-bendin'
+ Hidin' of de sky,
+ Wavin' kin' o' frien'ly
+ Ez de win' go by,
+ Elum trees a-shinin',
+ Dahk an' green an' thick,
+ Seem to say, "I see yo'
+ Wadin' in de crick."
+
+ But de trees don' chattah,
+ Dey des look an' sigh
+ Lak hit's kin' o' peaceful
+ Des a-bein' nigh,
+ An' yo' t'ank yo' Mastah
+ Dat dey trunks is thick
+ W'en yo' mammy fin's you
+ Wadin' in de crick.
+
+ Den yo' run behin' dem
+ Lak yo' scaihed to def,
+ Mammy come a-flyin',
+ Mos' nigh out o' bref;
+ But she set down gentle
+ An' she drap huh stick,--
+ An' fus' t'ing, dey's mammy
+ Wadin' in de crick.
+
+
+THE QUILTING
+
+ Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch,
+ Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,
+ While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
+ As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.
+ And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;
+ Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
+
+
+PARTED
+
+ She wrapped her soul in a lace of lies,
+ With a prime deceit to pin it;
+ And I thought I was gaining a fearsome prize,
+ So I staked my soul to win it.
+
+ We wed and parted on her complaint,
+ And both were a bit of barter,
+ Tho' I'll confess that I'm no saint,
+ I'll swear that she's no martyr.
+
+
+FOREVER
+
+ I had not known before
+ Forever was so long a word.
+ The slow stroke of the clock of time
+ I had not heard.
+
+ 'Tis hard to learn so late;
+ It seems no sad heart really learns,
+ But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,
+ And bleeds and burns.
+
+ The night is not all dark,
+ Nor is the day all it seems,
+ But each may bring me this relief--
+ My dreams and dreams.
+
+ I had not known before
+ That Never was so sad a word,
+ So wrap me in forgetfulness--
+ I have not heard.
+
+
+THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY
+
+ Wintah time hit comin'
+ Stealin' thoo de night;
+ Wake up in the mo'nin'
+ Evah t'ing is white;
+ Cabin lookin' lonesome
+ Stannin' in de snow,
+ Meks you kin' o' nervous,
+ Wen de win' hit blow.
+
+ Trompin' back from feedin',
+ Col' an' wet an' blue,
+ Homespun jacket ragged,
+ Win' a-blowin' thoo.
+ Cabin lookin' cheerful,
+ Unnerneaf de do',
+ Yet you kin' o' keerful
+ Wen de win' hit blow.
+
+ Hickory log a-blazin'
+ Light a-lookin' red,
+ Faith o' eyes o' peepin'
+ 'Rom a trun'le bed,
+ Little feet a-patterin'
+ Cleak across de flo';
+ Bettah had be keerful
+ Wen de win' hit blow.
+
+ Suppah done an' ovah,
+ Evah t'ing is still;
+ Listen to de snowman
+ Slippin' down de hill.
+ Ashes on de fiah,
+ Keep it wa'm but low.
+ What's de use o' keerin'
+ Ef de win' do blow?
+
+ Smoke house full o' bacon,
+ Brown an' sweet an' good;
+ Taters in de cellah,
+ 'Possum roam de wood;
+ Little baby snoozin'
+ Des ez ef he know.
+ What's de use o' keerin'
+ Ef de win' do blow?
+
+
+TWILIGHT
+
+ 'Twixt a smile and a tear,
+ 'Twixt a song and a sigh,
+ 'Twixt the day and the dark,
+ When the night draweth nigh.
+
+ Ah, sunshine may fade
+ From the heavens above,
+ No twilight have we
+ To the day of our love.
+
+
+CURIOSITY
+
+ Mammy's in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet;
+ All de pickaninnies climb an' tug an' sweat,
+ Gittin' to de winder, stickin' dah lak flies,
+ Evah one ermong us des all nose an' eyes.
+
+ "Whut's she cookin', Isaac?"
+ "Whut's she cookin', Jake?"
+ "Is it sweet pertaters? Is hit pie er cake?"
+ But we couldn't mek out even whah we stood
+ Whut was mammy cookin' dat could smell so good.
+
+ Mammy spread de winder, an' she frown an' frown,
+ How de pickaninnies come a-tum-blin' down!
+ Den she say: "Ef you-all keeps a-peepin' in,
+ How I'se gwine to whup you, my! 't 'ill be a sin!
+ Need n' come a-sniffin' an' a-nosin' hyeah,
+ 'Ca'se I knows my business, nevah feah."
+ Won't somebody tell us--how I wish dey would!--
+ Whut is mammy cookin' dat it smells so good?
+
+ We know she means business, an' we dassent stay,
+ Dough it's mighty tryin' fuh to go erway;
+ But we goes a-troopin' down de ol' wood-track
+ 'Twell dat steamin' kitchen brings us stealin' back,
+ Climbin' an' a-peepin' so's to see inside.
+ Whut on earf kin mammy be so sha'p to hide?
+ I'd des up an' tell folks w'en I knowed I could,
+ Ef I was a-cookin' t'ings dat smelt so good.
+
+ Mammy in de oven, an' I see huh smile;
+ Moufs mus' be a-wat'rin' roun' hyeah fuh a mile;
+ Den we almos' hollah ez we hu'ies down,
+ 'Ca'se hit's apple dumplin's, big an' fat an' brown!
+ W'en de do' is opened, solemn lak an' slow,
+ Wisht you see us settin' all dah in a row
+ Innercent an' p'opah, des lak chillun should
+ W'en dey mammy's cookin' t'ings dat smell so good.
+
+
+OPPORTUNITY
+
+ Granny's gone a-visitin',
+ Seen huh git huh shawl
+ W'en I was a-hidin' down
+ Hime de gyahden wall.
+ Seen huh put her bonnet on,
+ Seen huh tie de strings,
+ An' I'se gone to dreamin' now
+ 'Bout dem cakes an' t'ings.
+
+ On de she'f behime de do'--
+ Mussy, what a feas'!
+ Soon ez she gits out o' sight,
+ I kin eat in peace.
+ I bin watchin' fu' a week
+ Des fu' dis hyeah chance.
+ Mussy, w'en I gits in daih,
+ I'll des sholy dance.
+
+ Lemon pie an' gingah-cake,
+ Let me set an' t'ink--
+ Vinegah an' sugah, too,
+ Dat'll mek a drink;
+ Ef dey's one t'ing dat I loves
+ Mos' pu'ticlahly,
+ It is eatin' sweet t'ings an'
+ A-drinkin' Sangaree.
+
+ Lawdy, won' po' granny raih
+ W'en she see de she'f;
+ W'en I t'ink erbout huh face,
+ I's mos' 'shamed myse'f.
+ Well, she gone, an 'hyeah I is,
+ Back behime de do'--
+ Look hyeah! gran' 's done 'spected me,
+ Dain't no sweets no mo'.
+
+ Evah sweet is hid erway,
+ Job des done up brown;
+ Pusson t'ink dat someun t'ought
+ Dey was t'eves erroun';
+ Dat des breaks my heart in two,
+ Oh how bad I feel!
+ Des to t'ink my own gramma
+ B'lieved dat I 'u'd steal!
+
+
+PUTTIN' THE BABY AWAY
+
+ Eight of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet
+ Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet;
+ My haht's a-achin' ha'd an' so',
+ De way hit nevah ached befo';
+ My soul's a-pleadin', "Lawd, give back
+ Dis little lonesome baby black,
+ Dis one, dis las' po' he'pless one
+ Whose little race was too soon run."
+
+ Po' Little Jim, des fo' yeahs ol'
+ A-layin' down so still an' col'.
+ Somehow hit don' seem ha'dly faih,
+ To have my baby lyin' daih
+ Wi'dout a smile upon his face,
+ Wi'dout a look erbout de place;
+ He ust to be so full o' fun
+ Hit don' seem right dat all's done, done.
+
+ Des eight in all but I don' caih,
+ Dey wa'nt a single one to spaih;
+ De worl' was big, so was my haht,
+ An' dis hyeah baby owned hit's paht;
+ De house was po', dey clothes was rough,
+ But daih was meat an' meal enough;
+ An' daih was room fu' little Jim;
+ Oh! Lawd, what made you call fu' him?.
+
+ It do seem monst'ous ha'd to-day,
+ To lay dis baby boy away;
+ I'd learned to love his teasin' smile,
+ He mought o' des been lef' erwhile;
+ You wouldn't t'ought wid all de folks,
+ Dat's roun' hyeah mixin' teahs an' jokes,
+ De Lawd u'd had de time to see
+ Dis chile an' tek him 'way f'om me.
+
+ But let it go, I reckon Jim,
+ 'Ll des go right straight up to Him
+ Dat took him f'om his mammy's nest
+ An' lef dis achin' in my breas',
+ An' lookin' in dat fathah's face
+ An' 'memberin' dis lone sorrerin' place,
+ He'll say, "Good Lawd, you ought to had
+ Do sumpin' fu' to comfo't dad!"
+
+
+THE FISHER CHILD'S LULLABY
+
+ The wind is out in its rage to-night,
+ And your father is far at sea.
+ The rime on the window is hard and white
+ But dear, you are near to me.
+ Heave ho, weave low,
+ Waves of the briny deep;
+ Seethe low and breathe low,
+ But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
+
+ The little boat rocks in the cove no more,
+ But the flying sea-gulls wail;
+ I peer through the darkness that wraps the shore,
+ For sight of a home set sail.
+ Heave ho, weave low,
+ Waves of the briny deep;
+ Seethe low and breathe low,
+ But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
+
+ Ay, lad of mine, thy father may die
+ In the gale that rides the sea,
+ But we'll not believe it, not you and I,
+ Who mind us of Galilee.
+ Heave ho, weave low,
+ Waves of the briny deep;
+ Seethe low and breathe low,
+ But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
+
+
+FAITH
+
+ I's a-gittin' weary of de way dat people do,
+ De folks dat's got dey 'ligion in dey fiah-place an' flue;
+ Dey's allus somep'n comin' so de spit'll have to turn,
+ An' hit tain't no p'oposition fu' to mek de hickory bu'n.
+ Ef de sweet pertater fails us an' de go'geous yallah yam,
+ We kin tek a bit o' comfo't f'om ouah sto' o' summah jam.
+ W'en de snow hit git to flyin', dat's de Mastah's own desiah,
+ De Lawd'll run de wintah an' yo' mammy'll run de fiah.
+
+ I ain' skeered because de win' hit staht to raih and blow,
+ I ain't bothahed w'en he come er rattlin' at de do',
+ Let him taih hisse'f an' shout, let him blow an' bawl,
+
+ Dat's de time de branches shek an' bresh-wood 'mence to fall.
+ W'en de sto'm er railin' an' de shettahs blowin' 'bout,
+ Dat de time de fiah-place crack hits welcome out.
+ Tain' my livin' business fu' to trouble ner enquiah,
+ De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.
+
+ Ash-cake allus gits ez brown w'en February's hyeah
+ Ez it does in bakin' any othah time o' yeah.
+ De bacon smell ez callin'-like, de kittle rock an' sing,
+ De same way in de wintah dat dey do it in de spring;
+ Dey ain't no use in mopin' 'round an' lookin' mad an' glum
+ Erbout de wintah season, fu' hit's des plumb boun' to come;
+
+ An' ef it comes to runnin' t'ings I's willin' to retiah,
+ De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.
+
+
+THE FARM CHILD'S LULLABY
+
+ Oh, the little bird is rocking in the cradle of the wind,
+ And it's bye, my little wee one, bye;
+ The harvest all is gathered and the pippins all are binned;
+ Bye, my little wee one, bye;
+ The little rabbit's hiding in the golden shock of corn,
+ The thrifty squirrel's laughing bunny's idleness to scorn;
+ You are smiling with the angels in your slumber, smile till morn;
+ So it's bye, my little wee one, bye.
+
+ There'll be plenty in the cellar, there'll be plenty on the shelf;
+ Bye, my little wee one, bye;
+ There'll be goodly store of sweetings for a dainty little elf;
+ Bye, my little wee one, bye.
+ The snow may be a-flying o'er the meadow and the hill,
+ The ice has checked the chatter of the little laughing rill,
+ But in your cosey cradle you are warm and happy still;
+ So bye, my little wee one, bye.
+
+ Why, the Bob White thinks the snowflake is a brother to his song;
+ Bye, my little wee one, bye;
+ And the chimney sings the sweeter when the wind is blowing strong;
+ Bye, my little wee one, bye;
+ The granary's overflowing, full is cellar, crib, and bin,
+ The wood has paid its tribute and the ax has ceased its din;
+ The winter may not harm you when you're sheltered safe within;
+ So bye, my little wee one, bye.
+
+
+THE PLACE WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS
+
+ There's a fabulous story
+ Full of splendor and glory,
+ That Arabian legends transcends;
+ Of the wealth without measure,
+ The coffers of treasure,
+ At the place where the rainbow ends.
+
+ Oh, many have sought it,
+ And all would have bought it,
+ With the blood we so recklessly spend;
+ But none has uncovered,
+ The gold, nor discovered
+ The spot at the rainbow's end.
+
+ They have sought it in battle,
+ And e'en where the rattle
+ Of dice with man's blasphemy blends;
+ But howe'er persuasive,
+ It still proves evasive,
+ This place where the rainbow ends.
+
+ I own for my pleasure,
+ I yearn not for treasure,
+ Though gold has a power it lends;
+ And I have a notion,
+ To find without motion,
+ The place where the rainbow ends.
+
+ The pot may hold pottage,
+ The place be a cottage,
+ That a humble contentment defends,
+ Only joy fills its coffer,
+ But spite of the scoffer,
+ There's the place where the rainbow ends.
+
+ Where care shall be quiet,
+ And love shall run riot,
+ And I shall find wealth in my friends;
+ Then truce to the story,
+ Of riches and glory;
+ There's the place where the rainbow ends.
+
+
+HOPE
+
+ De dog go howlin' 'long de road,
+ De night come shiverin' down;
+ My back is tiahed of its load,
+ I cain't be fu' f'om town.
+ No mattah ef de way is long,
+ My haht is swellin' wid a song,
+ No mattah 'bout de frownin' skies,
+ I'll soon be home to see my Lize.
+
+ My shadder staggah on de way,
+ It's monstous col' to-night;
+ But I kin hyeah my honey say
+ "W'y bless me if de sight
+ O' you ain't good fu' my so' eyes."
+ (Dat talk's dis lak my lady Lize)
+ I's so'y case de way was long
+ But Lawd you bring me love an' song.
+
+ No mattah ef de way is long,
+ An' ef I trimbles so'
+ I knows de fiah's burnin' strong,
+ Behime my Lizy's do'.
+ An' daih my res' an' joy shell be,
+ Whaih my ol' wife's awaitin' me--
+ Why what I keer fu' stingin' blas',
+ I see huh windah light at las'.
+
+
+APPRECIATION
+
+ My muvver's ist the nicest one
+ 'At ever lived wiz folks;
+ She lets you have ze mostes' fun,
+ An' laffs at all your jokes.
+
+ I got a ol' maid auntie, too,
+ The worst you ever saw;
+ Her eyes ist bore you through and through,--
+ She ain't a bit like ma.
+
+ She's ist as slim, as slim can be,
+ An' when you want to slide
+ Down on ze balusters, w'y she
+ Says 'at she's harrified.
+
+ She ain't as nice as Uncle Ben,
+ What says 'at little boys
+ Won't never grow to be big men
+ Unless they're fond of noise.
+
+ But muvver's nicer zan 'em all,
+ She calls you, "precious lamb,"
+ An' let's you roll your ten-pin ball,
+ An' spreads your bread wiz jam.
+
+ An' when you're bad, she ist looks sad,
+ You fink she's goin' to cry;
+ An' when she don't you're awful glad,
+ An' den you're good, Oh, my!
+
+ At night, she takes ze softest hand,
+ An' lays it on your head,
+ An' says "Be off to Sleepy-Land
+ By way o' trundle-bed."
+
+ So when you fink what muvver knows
+ An' aunts an' uncle tan't,
+ It skeers a feller; ist suppose
+ His muvver 'd been a aunt.
+
+
+A SONG
+
+ On a summer's day as I sat by a stream,
+ A dainty maid came by,
+ And she blessed my sight like a rosy dream,
+ And left me there to sigh, to sigh,
+ And left me there to sigh, to sigh.
+
+ On another day as I sat by the stream,
+ This maiden paused a while,
+ Then I made me bold as I told my dream,
+ She heard it with a smile, a smile,
+ She heard it with a smile, a smile.
+
+ Oh, the months have fled and the autumn's red,
+ The maid no more goes by:
+ For my dream came true and the maid I wed,
+ And now no more I sigh, I sigh,
+ And now no more I sigh.
+
+
+DAY
+
+ The gray dawn on the mountain top
+ Is slow to pass away.
+ Still lays him by in sluggish dreams,
+ The golden God of day.
+
+ And then a light along the hills,
+ Your laughter silvery gay;
+ The Sun God wakes, a bluebird trills,
+ You come and it is day.
+
+
+TO DAN
+
+ Step me now a bridal measure,
+ Work give way to love and leisure,
+ Hearts be free and hearts be gay--
+ Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.
+
+ Diagnosis, cease your squalling--
+ Check that scalpel's senseless bawling,
+ Put that ugly knife away--
+ Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.
+
+ 'Tis no time for things unsightly,
+ Life's the day and life goes lightly;
+ Science lays aside her sway--
+ Love rules Dr. Dan to-day.
+
+ Gather, gentlemen and ladies,
+ For the nuptial feast now made is,
+ Swing your garlands, chant your lay
+ For the pair who wed to-day.
+
+ Wish them happy days and many,
+ Troubles few and griefs not any,
+ Lift your brimming cups and say
+ God bless them who wed to-day.
+
+ Then a cup to Cupid daring,
+ Who for conquest ever faring,
+ With his arrows dares assail
+ E'en a doctor's coat of mail.
+
+ So with blithe and happy hymning
+ And with harmless goblets brimming,
+ Dance a step--musicians play--
+ Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.
+
+
+WHAT'S THE USE
+
+ What's the use o' folks a-frownin'
+ When the way's a little rough?
+ Frowns lay out the road fur smilin'
+ You'll be wrinkled soon enough.
+ What's the use?
+
+ What's the use o' folks a-sighin'?
+ It's an awful waste o' breath,
+ An' a body can't stand wastin'
+ What he needs so bad in death.
+ What's the use?
+
+ What's the use o' even weepin'?
+ Might as well go long an' smile.
+ Life, our longest, strongest arrow,
+ Only lasts a little while.
+ What's the use?
+
+
+A LAZY DAY
+
+ The trees bend down along the stream,
+ Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
+ The day is one to drowse and dream
+ And list the thrush's throttling note.
+ When music from his bosom bleeds
+ Among the river's rustling reeds.
+
+ No ripple stirs the placid pool,
+ When my adventurous line is cast,
+ A truce to sport, while clear and cool,
+ The mirrored clouds slide softly past.
+ The sky gives back a blue divine,
+ And all the world's wide wealth is mine.
+
+ A pickerel leaps, a bow of light,
+ The minnows shine from side to side.
+ The first faint breeze comes up the tide--
+ I pause with half uplifted oar,
+ While night drifts down to claim the shore.
+
+
+ADVICE
+
+ W'en you full o' worry
+ 'Bout yo' wo'k an' sich,
+ W'en you kind o' bothered
+ Case you can't get rich,
+ An' yo' neighboh p'ospah
+ Past his jest desu'ts,
+ An' de sneer of comerds
+ Stuhes yo' heaht an' hu'ts,
+ Des don' pet yo' worries,
+ Lay 'em on de she'f,
+ Tek a little trouble
+ Brothah, wid yo'se'f.
+
+ Ef a frien' comes mou'nin'
+ 'Bout his awful case,
+ You know you don' grieve him
+ Wid a gloomy face,
+ But you wrassle wid him,
+ Try to tek him in;
+ Dough hit cracks yo' features,
+ Law, you smile lak sin,
+ Ain't you good ez he is?
+ Don' you pine to def;
+ Tek a little trouble
+ Brothah, wid yo'se'f.
+
+ Ef de chillun pestahs,
+ An' de baby's bad,
+ Ef yo' wife gits narvous,
+ An' you're gettin' mad,
+ Des you grab yo' boot-strops,
+ Hol' yo' body down,
+ Stop a-tinkin' cuss-w'rds,
+ Chase away de frown,
+ Knock de haid o' worry,
+ Twell dey ain' none lef';
+ Tek a little trouble,
+ Brothah, wid yo'se'f.
+
+
+LIMITATIONS
+
+ Ef you's only got de powah fe' to blow a little whistle,
+ Keep ermong de people wid de whistles.
+ Ef you don't, you'll fin' out sho'tly dat you's th'owed yo' fines' feelin'
+ In a place dat's all a bed o' thistles.
+ 'Tain't no use a-goin' now, ez sho's you bo'n,
+ A-squeakin' of yo' whistle 'g'inst a gread big ho'n.
+
+ Ef you ain't got but a teenchy bit o' victuals on de table,
+ Whut' de use a-claimin' hit's a feas'?
+ Fe' de folks is mighty 'spicious, an' dey's ap' to come apeerin',
+ Lookin' fe' de scraps you lef' at leas'.
+ Wen de meal's a-hidin' f'om de meal-bin's top,
+ You needn't talk to hide it; ef you sta'ts, des stop.
+
+ Ef yo' min' kin only carry half a pint o' common idees,
+ Don' go roun' a-sayin' hit's a bar'l;
+ 'Ca'se de people gwine to test you, an' dey'll fin' out you's a-lyin',
+ Den dey'll twis' yo' sayin's in a snarl.
+ Wuss t'ing in de country dat I evah hyahed--
+ A crow dot sat a-squawkin', "I's a mockin'-bird."
+
+
+A GOLDEN DAY
+
+ I found you and I lost you,
+ All on a gleaming day.
+ The day was rilled with sunshine,
+ And the land was full of May.
+
+ A golden bird was singing
+ Its melody divine,
+ I found you and I loved you,
+ And all the world was mine.
+
+ I found you and I lost you,
+ All on a golden day,
+ But when I dream of you, dear,
+ It is always brimming May.
+
+
+THE UNLUCKY APPLE
+
+ 'Twas the apple that in Eden
+ Caused our father's primal fall;
+ And the Trojan War, remember--
+ 'Twas an apple caused it all.
+ So for weeks I've hesitated,
+ You can guess the reason why,
+ For I want to tell my darling
+ She's the apple of my eye.
+
+
+THE DISCOVERY
+
+ These are the days of elfs and fays:
+ Who says that with the dreams of myth,
+ These imps and elves disport themselves?
+ Ah no, along the paths of song
+ Do all the tiny folk belong.
+
+ Round all our homes,
+ Kobolds and gnomes do daily cling,
+ Then nightly fling their lanterns out.
+ And shout on shout, they join the rout,
+ And sing, and sing, within the sweet enchanted ring.
+
+ Where gleamed the guile of moonlight's smile,
+ Once paused I, listening for a while,
+ And heard the lay, unknown by day,--
+ The fairies' dancing roundelay.
+
+ Queen Mab was there, her shimmering hair
+ Each fairy prince's heart's despair.
+ She smiled to see their sparkling glee,
+ And once I ween, she smiled at me.
+
+ Since when, you may by night or day,
+ Dispute the sway of elf-folk gay;
+ But, hear me, stay!
+ I've learned the way to find Queen
+ Mab and elf and fay.
+
+ Where e'er by streams, the moonlight gleams,
+ Or on a meadow softly beams,
+ There, footing round on dew-lit ground,
+ The fairy folk may all be found.
+
+
+MORNING
+
+ The mist has left the greening plain,
+ The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
+ The coquette rose awakes again
+ Her lovely self adorning.
+ The Wind is hiding in the trees,
+ A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
+ Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
+ 'Tis morning, 'tis morning.
+
+ With staff in hand and careless-free,
+ The wanderer fares right jauntily,
+ For towns and houses are, thinks he,
+ For scorning, for scorning.
+ My soul is swift upon the wing,
+ And in its deeps a song I bring;
+ Come, Love, and we together sing,
+ "'Tis morning, 'tis morning."
+
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+ I did not know that life could be so sweet,
+ I did not know the hours could speed so fleet,
+ Till I knew you, and life was sweet again.
+ The days grew brief with love and lack of pain--
+
+ I was a slave a few short days ago,
+ The powers of Kings and Princes now I know;
+ I would not be again in bondage, save
+ I had your smile, the liberty I crave.
+
+
+LOVE'S DRAFT
+
+ The draft of love was cool and sweet
+ You gave me in the cup,
+ But, ah, love's fire is keen and fleet,
+ And I am burning up.
+
+ Unless the tears I shed for you
+ Shall quench this burning flame,
+ It will consume me through and through,
+ And leave but ash--a name.
+
+
+A MUSICAL
+
+ Outside the rain upon the street,
+ The sky all grim of hue,
+ Inside, the music-painful sweet,
+ And yet I heard but you.
+
+ As is a thrilling violin,
+ So is your voice to me,
+ And still above the other strains,
+ It sang in ecstasy.
+
+
+TWELL DE NIGHT IS PAS'
+
+ All de night long twell de moon goes down,
+ Lovin' I set at huh feet,
+ Den fu' de long jou'ney back f'om de town,
+ Ha'd, but de dreams mek it sweet.
+
+ All de night long twell de break of de day,
+ Dreamin' agin in my sleep,
+ Mandy comes drivin' my sorrers away,
+ Axin' me, "Wha' fu' you weep?"
+
+ All de day long twell de sun goes down,
+ Smilin', I ben' to my hoe,
+ Fu' dough de weddah git nasty an' frown,
+ One place I know I kin go.
+
+ All my life long twell de night has pas'
+ Let de wo'k come ez it will,
+ So dat I fin' you, my honey, at las',
+ Somewhaih des ovah de hill.
+
+
+BLUE
+
+ Standin' at de winder,
+ Feelin' kind o' glum,
+ Listenin' to de raindrops
+ Play de kettle drum,
+ Lookin' crost de medders
+ Swimmin' lak a sea;
+ Lawd 'a' mussy on us,
+ What's de good o' me?
+
+ Can't go out a-hoein',
+ Wouldn't ef I could;
+ Groun' too wet fu' huntin',
+ Fishin' ain't no good.
+ Too much noise fo' sleepin',
+ No one hyeah to chat;
+ Des mus' stan' an' listen
+ To dat pit-a-pat.
+
+ Hills is gittin' misty,,
+ Valley's gittin' dahk;
+ Watch-dog's 'mence a-howlin',
+ Rathah have 'em ba'k
+ Dan a-moanin' solemn
+ Somewhaih out o' sight;
+ Rain-crow des a-chucklin'--
+ Dis is his delight.
+
+ Mandy, bring my banjo,
+ Bring de chillen in,
+ Come in f'om de kitchen,
+ I feel sick ez sin.
+ Call in Uncle Isaac,
+ Call Aunt Hannah, too,
+ Tain't no use in talkin',
+ Chile, I's sholy blue.
+
+
+DREAMIN' TOWN
+
+ Come away to dreamin' town,
+ Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou,
+ Whaih de skies don' nevah frown,
+ Mandy Lou;
+ Whaih he streets is paved with gol',
+ Whaih de days is nevah col',
+ An' no sheep strays f'om de fol',
+ Mandy Lou.
+
+ Ain't you tiahed of every day,
+ Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou,
+ Tek my han' an' come away,
+ Mandy Lou,
+ To the place whaih dreams is King,
+ Whaih my heart hol's everything,
+ An' my soul can allus sing,
+ Mandy Lou.
+
+ Come away to dream wid me,
+ Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou,
+ Whaih our hands an' hea'ts are free,
+ Mandy Lou;
+ Whaih de sands is shinin' white,
+ Whaih de rivahs glistens bright,
+ Mandy Lou.
+
+ Come away to dreamland town,
+ Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou,
+ Whaih de fruit is bendin' down,
+ Des fu' you.
+ Smooth your brow of lovin' brown,
+ An' my love will be its crown;
+ Come away to dreamin' town,
+ Mandy Lou.
+
+
+AT NIGHT
+
+ Whut time 'd dat clock strike?
+ Nine? No--eight;
+ I didn't think hit was so late.
+ Aer chew! I must 'a' got a cough,
+ I raally b'lieve I did doze off--
+ Hit's mighty soothin' to de tiah,
+ A-dozin' dis way by de fiah;
+ Oo oom--hit feels so good to stretch
+ I sutny is one weary wretch!
+
+ Look hyeah, dat boy done gone to sleep!
+ He des ain't wo'th his boa'd an' keep;
+ I des don't b'lieve he'd bat his eyes
+ If Gab'el called him fo'm de skies!
+ But sleepin's good dey ain't no doubt--
+ Dis pipe o' mine is done gone out.
+ Don't bu'n a minute, bless my soul,
+ Des please to han' me dat ah coal.
+
+ You 'Lias git up now, my son,
+ Seems lak my nap is des begun;
+ You sutny mus' ma'k down de day
+ Wen I treats comp'ny dis away!
+ W'y, Brother Jones, dat drowse come on,
+ An' laws! I dremp dat you was gone!
+ You 'Lias, whaih yo' mannahs, suh,
+ To hyeah me call an' nevah stuh!
+
+ To-morrer mo'nin' w'en I call
+ Dat boy'll be sleepin' to beat all,
+ Don't mek no diffunce how I roah,
+ He'll des lay up an' sno' and sno'.
+ Now boy, you done hyeahed whut I said,
+ You bettah tek yo'se'f yo baid,
+ Case ef you gits me good an' wrong
+ I'll mek dat sno' a diffunt song.
+
+ Dis wood fiah is invitin' dho',
+ Hit seems to wa'm de ve'y flo'--
+ An' nuffin' ain't a whit ez sweet,
+ Ez settin' toastin' of yo' feet.
+ Hit mek you drowsy, too, but La!
+ Hyeah, 'Lias, don't you hyeah yo' ma?
+ Ef I gits sta'ted f'om dis cheah
+ I' lay, you scamp, I'll mek you heah!
+
+ To-morrer mo'nin' I kin bawl
+ Twell all de neighbohs hyeah me call;
+ An' you'll be snoozin' des ez deep
+ Ez if de day was made fu' sleep;
+ Hit's funny when you got a cough
+ Somehow yo' voice seems too fu' off--
+ Can't wake dat boy fu' all I say,
+ I reckon he'll sleep daih twell day!
+
+
+KIDNAPED
+
+ I held my heart so far from harm,
+ I let it wander far and free
+ In mead and mart, without alarm,
+ Assured it must come back to me.
+
+ And all went well till on a day,
+ Learned Dr. Cupid wandered by
+ A search along our sylvan way
+ For some peculiar butterfly.
+
+ A flash of wings, a hurried dive,
+ A flutter and a short-lived flit;
+ This Scientist, as I am alive
+ Had seen my heart and captured it.
+
+ Right tightly now 'tis held among
+ The specimens that he has trapped,
+ And sings (Oh, love is ever young),
+ 'Tis passing sweet to be kidnaped.
+
+
+COMPENSATION
+
+ Because I had loved so deeply,
+ Because I had loved so long,
+ God in His great compassion
+ Gave me the gift of song.
+
+ Because I have loved so vainly,
+ And sung with such faltering breath,
+ The Master in infinite mercy
+ Offers the boon of Death.
+
+
+WINTER'S APPROACH
+
+ De sun hit shine an' de win' hit blow,
+ Ol' Brer Rabbit be a-layin' low,
+ He know dat de wintah time a-comin',
+ De huntah man he walk an' wait,
+ He walk right by Brer Rabbit's gate--
+ He know--
+
+ De dog he lick his sliverin' chop,
+ An' he tongue 'gin' his mouf go flop, flop--
+ He--
+ He rub his nose fu' to clah his scent
+ So's to tell w'ich way dat cottontail went,
+ He--
+
+ De huntah's wife she set an' spin
+ A good wahm coat fu' to wrop him in
+ She--
+ She look at de skillet an' she smile, oh my!
+ An' ol' Brer Rabbit got to sholy fly.
+ Dey know.
+
+
+ANCHORED
+
+ If thro' the sea of night which here surrounds me,
+ I could swim out beyond the farthest star,
+ Break every barrier of circumstance that bounds me,
+ And greet the Sun of sweeter life afar,
+
+ Tho' near you there is passion, grief, and sorrow,
+ And out there rest and joy and peace and all,
+ I should renounce that beckoning for to-morrow,
+ I could not choose to go beyond your call.
+
+
+THE VETERAN
+
+ Underneath the autumn sky,
+ Haltingly, the lines go by.
+ Ah, would steps were blithe and gay,
+ As when first they marched away,
+ Smile on lip and curl on brow,--
+ Only white-faced gray-beards now,
+ Standing on life's outer verge,
+ E'en the marches sound a dirge.
+
+ Blow, you bugles, play, you fife,
+ Rattle, drums, for dearest life.
+ Let the flags wave freely so,
+ As the marching legions go,
+ Shout, hurrah and laugh and jest,
+ This is memory at its best.
+ (Did you notice at your quip,
+ That old comrade's quivering lip?)
+
+ Ah, I see them as they come,
+ Stumbling with the rumbling drum;
+ But a sight more sad to me
+ E'en than these ranks could be
+ Was that one with cane upraised
+ Who stood by and gazed and gazed,
+ Trembling, solemn, lips compressed,
+ Longing to be with the rest.
+
+ Did he dream of old alarms,
+ As he stood, "presented arms"?
+ Did he think of field and camp
+ And the unremitting tramp
+ Mile on mile--the lonely guard
+ When he kept his midnight ward?
+ Did he dream of wounds and scars
+ In that bitter war of wars?
+
+ What of that? He stood and stands
+ In my memory--trembling hands,
+ Whitened beard and cane and all
+ As if waiting for the call
+ Once again: "To arms, my sons,"
+ And his ears hear far-off guns,
+ Roll of cannon and the tread
+ Of the legions of the Dead!
+
+
+YESTERDAY AND TO-MORROW
+
+ Yesterday I held your hand,
+ Reverently I pressed it,
+ And its gentle yieldingness
+ From my soul I blessed it.
+
+ But to-day I sit alone,
+ Sad and sore repining;
+ Must our gold forever know
+ Flames for the refining?
+
+ Yesterday I walked with you,
+ Could a day be sweeter?
+ Life was all a lyric song
+ Set to tricksy meter.
+
+ Ah, to-day is like a dirge,--
+ Place my arms around you,
+ Let me feel the same dear joy
+ As when first I found you.
+
+ Let me once retrace my steps,
+ From these roads unpleasant,
+ Let my heart and mind and soul
+ All ignore the present.
+
+ Yesterday the iron seared
+ And to-day means sorrow.
+ Pause, my soul, arise, arise,
+ Look where gleams the morrow.
+
+
+THE CHANGE
+
+ Love used to carry a bow, you know,
+ But now he carries a taper;
+ It is either a length of wax aglow,
+ Or a twist of lighted paper.
+
+ I pondered a little about the scamp,
+ And then I decided to follow
+ His wandering journey to field and camp,
+ Up hill, down dale or hollow.
+
+ I dogged the rollicking, gay, young blade
+ In every species of weather;
+ Till, leading me straight to the home of a maid
+ He left us there together.
+
+ And then I saw it, oh, sweet surprise,
+ The taper it set a-burning
+ The love-light brimming my lady's eyes,
+ And my heart with the fire of yearning.
+
+
+THE CHASE
+
+ The wind told the little leaves to hurry,
+ And chased them down the way,
+ While the mother tree laughed loud in glee,
+ For she thought her babes at play,
+ The cruel wind and the rain laughed loudly,
+ We'll bury them deep, they said,
+ And the old tree grieves, and the little leaves
+ Lie low, all chilled and dead.
+
+
+SUPPOSE
+
+ If 'twere fair to suppose
+ That your heart were not taken,
+ That the dew from the rose
+ Petals still were not shaken,
+ I should pluck you,
+ Howe'er you should thorn me and scorn me,
+ And wear you for life as the green of the bower.
+
+ If 'twere fair to suppose
+ That that road was for vagrants,
+ That the wind and the rose,
+ Counted all in their fragrance;
+ Oh, my dear one,
+ By love, I should take you and make you,
+ The green of my life from the scintillant hour.
+
+
+THE DEATH OF THE FIRST BORN
+
+ Cover him over with daisies white
+ And eke with the poppies red,
+ Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
+ For the First-Born, Love, is dead.
+
+ Poor little fellow, he seemed so fair
+ As he lay in my jealous arms;
+ Silent and cold he is lying there
+ Stripped of his darling charms.
+
+ Lusty and strong he had grown forsooth,
+ Sweet with an infinite grace,
+ Proud in the force of his conquering youth,
+ Laughter alight in his face.
+
+ Oh, but the blast, it was cruel and keen,
+ And ah, but the chill it was rare;
+ The look of the winter-kissed flow'r you've seen
+ When meadows and fields were bare.
+
+ Can you not wake from this white, cold sleep
+ And speak to me once again?
+ True that your slumber is deep, so deep,
+ But deeper by far is my pain.
+
+ Cover him over with daisies white,
+ And eke with the poppies red,
+ Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
+ For the First-Born, Love, is dead.
+
+
+BEIN' BACK HOME
+
+ Home agin, an' home to stay--
+ Yes, it's nice to be away.
+ Plenty things to do an' see,
+ But the old place seems to me
+ Jest about the proper thing.
+ Mebbe 'ts 'cause the mem'ries cling
+ Closer 'round yore place o' birth
+ 'N ary other spot on earth.
+
+ W'y it's nice jest settin' here,
+ Lookin' out an' seein' clear,
+ 'Thout no smoke, ner dust, ner haze
+ In these sweet October days.
+ What's as good as that there lane,
+ Kind o' browned from last night's rain?
+ 'Pears like home has got the start
+ When the goal's a feller's heart.
+
+ What's as good as that there jay
+ Screechin' up'ards towards the gray
+ Skies? An' tell me, what's as fine
+ As that full-leafed pumpkin vine?
+ Tow'rin' buildin's--? yes, they're good;
+ But in sight o' field and wood,
+ Then a feller understan's
+ 'Bout the house not made with han's.
+
+ Let the others rant an' roam
+ When they git away from home;
+ Jest gi' me my old settee
+ An' my pipe beneath a tree;
+ Sight o' medders green an' still,
+ Now and then a gentle hill,
+ Apple orchards, full o' fruit,
+ Nigh a cider press to boot--
+
+ That's the thing jest done up brown;
+ D'want to be too nigh to town;
+ Want to have the smells an' sights,
+ An' the dreams o' long still nights,
+ With the friends you used to know
+ In the keerless long ago--
+ Same old cronies, same old folks,
+ Same old cider, same old jokes.
+
+ Say, it's nice a-gittin' back,
+ When yore pulse is growin' slack,
+ An' yore breath begins to wheeze
+ Like a fair-set valley breeze;
+ Kind o' nice to set aroun'
+ On the old familiar groun',
+ Knowin' that when Death does come,
+ That he'll find you right at home.
+
+
+THE OLD CABIN
+
+ In de dead of night I sometimes,
+ Git to t'inkin' of de pas'
+ An' de days w'en slavery helt me
+ In my mis'ry--ha'd an' fas'.
+ Dough de time was mighty tryin',
+ In dese houahs somehow hit seem
+ Dat a brightah light come slippin'
+ Thoo de kivahs of my dream.
+
+ An' my min' fu'gits de whuppins
+ Draps de feah o' block an' lash
+ An' flies straight to somep'n' joyful
+ In a secon's lightnin' flash.
+ Den hit seems I see a vision
+ Of a dearah long ago
+ Of de childern tumblin' roun' me
+ By my rough ol' cabin do'.
+
+ Talk about yo' go'geous mansions
+ An' yo' big house great an' gran',
+ Des bring up de fines' palace
+ Dat you know in all de lan'.
+ But dey's somep'n' dearah to me,
+ Somep'n' faihah to my eyes
+ In dat cabin, less you bring me
+ To yo' mansion in de skies.
+
+ I kin see de light a-shinin'
+ Thoo de chinks atween de logs,
+ I kin hyeah de way-off bayin'
+ Of my mastah's huntin' dogs,
+ An' de neighin' of de hosses
+ Stampin' on de ol' bahn flo',
+ But above dese soun's de laughin'
+ At my deah ol' cabin do'.
+
+ We would gethah daih at evenin',
+ All my frien's 'ud come erroun'
+ An' hit wan't no time, twell, bless you,
+ You could hyeah de banjo's soun'.
+ You could see de dahkies dancin'
+ Pigeon wing an' heel an' toe--
+ Joyous times I tell you people
+ Roun' dat same ol' cabin do'.
+
+ But at times my t'oughts gits saddah,
+ Ez I riccolec' de folks,
+ An' dey frolickin' an' talkin'
+ Wid dey laughin' an dey jokes.
+ An' hit hu'ts me w'en I membahs
+ Dat I'll nevah see no mo'
+ Dem ah faces gethered smilin'
+ Roun' dat po' ol' cabin do'.
+
+
+DESPAIR
+
+ Let me close the eyes of my soul
+ That I may not see
+ What stands between thee and me.
+
+ Let me shut the ears of my heart
+ That I may not hear
+ A voice that drowns yours, my dear.
+
+ Let me cut the cords of my life,
+ Of my desolate being,
+ Since cursed is my hearing and seeing.
+
+
+CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES
+
+ Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill,
+ O chone!
+ If I was her muther, I'd frown on sich foolin',
+ O chone!
+ I'm sure it's unmutherlike, darin' an' wrong
+ To let a gyrul hear tell the sass an' the song
+ Of every young felly that happens along,
+ O chone!
+
+ An' Murphy, the things that's be'n sed of his doin',
+ O chone!
+ 'Tis a cud that no dacent folks wants to be chewin',
+ O chone!
+ If he came to my door wid his cane on a twirl,
+ Fur to thry to make love to you, Biddy, my girl,
+ Ah, wouldn't I send him away wid a whirl,
+ O chone!
+
+ They say the gossoon is indecent and dirty,
+ O chone!
+ In spite of his dressin' so.
+ O chone!
+ Let him dress up ez foine ez a king or a queen,
+ Let him put on more wrinkles than ever was seen,
+ You'll be sure he's no match for my little colleen,
+ O chone!
+
+ Faith the two is comin' back an' their walk is all over,
+ O chone!
+ 'Twas a pretty short walk fur to take wid a lover,
+ O chone!
+ Why, I believe that Tim Murphy's a kumin' this way,
+ Ah, Biddy jest look at him steppin' so gay,
+ I'd niver belave what the gossipers say,
+ O chone!
+
+ He's turned in the gate an' he's coming a-caperin',
+ O chone!
+ Go, Biddy, go quick an' put on a clane apern,
+ O chone!
+ Be quick as ye kin fur he's right at the dure;
+ Come in, master Tim, fur ye're welcome I'm shure.
+ We were talkin' o' ye jest a minute before.
+ O chone!
+
+
+TILL THE WIND GETS RIGHT
+
+ Oh the breeze is blowin' balmy
+ An the sun is in a haze;
+ There's a cloud jest givin' coolness
+ To the laziest of days.
+ There are crowds upon the lakeside,
+ But the fish refuse to bite,
+ So I'll wait and go a-fishin'
+ When the wind gets right.
+
+ Now my boat tugs at her anchor,
+ Eager now to kiss the spray,
+ While the little waves are callin'
+ Drowsy sailor come away,
+ There's a harbor for the happy,
+ And its sheen is just in sight,
+ But I won't set sail to get there,
+ Till the wind gets right.
+
+ That's my trouble, too, I reckon,
+ I've been waitin' all too long,
+ Tho' the days were always
+ Still the wind is always wrong.
+ An' when Gabriel blows his trumpet,
+ In the day o' in the night,
+ I will still be found waitin',
+ Till the wind gets right.
+
+
+A SUMMER NIGHT
+
+ Summah is de lovin' time--
+ Do' keer what you say.
+ Night is allus peart an' prime,
+ Bettah dan de day.
+ Do de day is sweet an' good,
+ Birds a-singin' fine,
+ Pines a-smellin' in de wood,--
+ But de night is mine.
+
+ Rivah whisperin' "howdy do,"
+ Ez it pass you by--
+ Moon a-lookin' down at you,
+ Winkin' on de sly.
+ Frogs a-croakin' f'om de pon',
+ Singin' bass dey fill,
+ An' you listen way beyon'
+ Ol' man whippo'will.
+
+ Hush up, honey, tek my han'
+ Mek yo' footsteps light;
+ Somep'n' kin' o' hol's de lan'
+ On a summah night.
+ Somep'n' dat you nevah sees
+ An' you nevah hyeahs,
+ But you feels it in de breeze,
+ Somep'n' nigh to teahs.
+
+ Somep'n' nigh to teahs? dat's so;
+ But hit's nigh to smiles.
+ An' you feels it ez you go
+ Down de shinin' miles.
+ Tek my han', my little dove;
+ Hush an' come erway--
+ Summah is de time fu' love,
+ Night-time beats de day!
+
+
+AT SUNSET TIME
+
+ Adown the west a golden glow
+ Sinks burning in the sea,
+ And all the dreams of long ago
+ Come flooding back to me.
+ The past has writ a story strange
+ Upon my aching heart,
+ But time has wrought a subtle change,
+ My wounds have ceased to smart.
+
+ No more the quick delight of youth,
+ No more the sudden pain,
+ I look no more for trust or truth
+ Where greed may compass gain.
+ What, was it I who bared my heart
+ Through unrelenting years,
+ And knew the sting of misery's dart,
+ The tang of sorrow's tears?
+
+ 'Tis better now, I do not weep,
+ I do not laugh nor care;
+ My soul and spirit half asleep
+ Drift aimless everywhere.
+ We float upon a sluggish stream,
+ We ride no rapids mad,
+ While life is all a tempered dream
+ And every joy half sad.
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+ Silence, and whirling worlds afar
+ Through all encircling skies.
+ What floods come o'er the spirit's bar,
+ What wondrous thoughts arise.
+
+ The earth, a mantle falls away,
+ And, winged, we leave the sod;
+ Where shines in its eternal sway
+ The majesty of God.
+
+
+AT LOAFING-HOLT
+
+ Since I left the city's heat
+ For this sylvan, cool retreat,
+ High upon the hill-side here
+ Where the air is clean and clear,
+ I have lost the urban ways.
+ Mine are calm and tranquil days,
+ Sloping lawns of green are mine,
+ Clustered treasures of the vine;
+ Long forgotten plants I know,
+ Where the best wild berries grow,
+ Where the greens and grasses sprout,
+ When the elders blossom out.
+ Now I am grown weather-wise
+ With the lore of winds and skies.
+ Mine the song whose soft refrain
+ Is the sigh of summer rain.
+ Seek you where the woods are cool,
+ Would you know the shady pool
+ Where, throughout the lazy day,
+ Speckled beauties drowse or play?
+ Would you find in rest or peace
+ Sorrow's permanent release?--
+ Leave the city, grim and gray,
+ Come with me, ah, come away.
+ Do you fear the winter chill,
+ Deeps of snow upon the hill?
+ 'Tis a mantle, kind and warm,
+ Shielding tender shoots from harm.
+ Do you dread the ice-clad streams,--
+ They are mirrors for your dreams.
+ Here's a rouse, when summer's past
+ To the raging winter's blast.
+ Let him roar and let him rout,
+ We are armored for the bout.
+ How the logs are glowing, see!
+ Who sings louder, they or he?
+ Could the city be more gay?
+ Burn your bridges! Come away!
+
+
+WHEN A FELLER'S ITCHIN' TO BE SPANKED
+
+ W'en us fellers stomp around, makin' lots o' noise,
+ Gramma says, "There's certain times come to little boys
+ W'en they need a shingle or the soft side of a plank;"
+ She says "we're a-itchin' for a right good spank."
+ An' she says, "Now thes you wait,
+ It's a-comin'--soon or late,
+ W'en a feller's itchin' fer a spank."
+
+ W'en a feller's out o' school, you know how he feels,
+ Gramma says we wriggle 'roun' like a lot o' eels.
+ W'y it's like a man that's thes home from out o' jail.
+ What's the use o' scoldin' if we pull Tray's tail?
+ Gramma says, tho', "Thes you wait,
+ It's a-comin'--soon or late,
+ You'se the boys that's itchin' to be spanked."
+
+ Cats is funny creatures an' I like to make 'em yowl,
+ Gramma alwus looks at me with a awful scowl
+ An' she says, "Young gentlemen, mamma should be thanked
+ Ef you'd get your knickerbockers right well spanked."
+ An' she says, "Now thes you wait,
+ It's a-comin'--soon or late,"
+ When a feller's itchin' to be spanked.
+
+ Ef you fin' the days is gettin' awful hot in school
+ An' you know a swimmin' place where it's nice and cool,
+ Er you know a cat-fish hole brimmin' full o' fish,
+ Whose a-goin' to set around school and wish?
+ 'Tain't no use to hide your bait,
+ It's a-comin,--soon or late,
+ Wen a feller's itchin' to be spanked.
+
+ Ol' folks know most ever'thing 'bout the world, I guess,
+ Gramma does, we wish she knowed thes a little less,
+ But I alwus kind o' think it 'ud be as well
+ Ef they wouldn't alwus have to up an' tell;
+ We kids wish 'at they'd thes wait,
+ It's a-comin'--soon or late,
+ Wen a feller's itchin' to be spanked.
+
+
+THE RIVER OF RUIN
+
+ Along by the river of ruin
+ They dally--the thoughtless ones,
+ They dance and they dream
+ By the side of the stream,
+ As long as the river runs.
+
+ It seems all so pleasant and cheery--
+ No thought of the morrow is theirs,
+ And their faces are bright
+ With the sun of delight,
+ And they dream of no night-brooding cares.
+
+ The women wear garlanded tresses,
+ The men have rings on their hands,
+ And they sing in their glee,
+ For they think they are free--
+ They that know not the treacherous sands.
+
+ Ah, but this be a venturesome journey,
+ Forever those sands are ashift,
+ And a step to one side
+ Means a grasp of the tide,
+ And the current is fearful and swift.
+
+ For once in the river of ruin,
+ What boots it, to do or to dare,
+ For down we must go
+ In the turbulent flow,
+ To the desolate sea of Despair.
+
+
+TO HER
+
+ Your presence like a benison to me
+ Wakes my sick soul to dreamful ecstasy,
+ I fancy that some old Arabian night
+ Saw you my houri and my heart's delight.
+
+ And wandering forth beneath the passionate moon,
+ Your love-strung zither and my soul in tune,
+ We knew the joy, the haunting of the pain
+ That like a flame thrills through me now again.
+
+ To-night we sit where sweet the spice winds blow,
+ A wind the northland lacks and ne'er shall know,
+ With clasped hands and spirits all aglow
+ As in Arabia in the long ago.
+
+
+A LOVE LETTER
+
+ Oh, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ She's my lovely little sweetheart an' her name is Sal:
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ She writes me dat she loves me an' she loves me true,
+ She wonders ef I'll tell huh dat I loves huh, too;
+ An' my heaht's so full o' music dat I do' know what to do;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+
+ I got a man to read it an' he read it fine;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ Dey ain' no use denying dat her love is mine;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ But hyeah's de t'ing dat's puttin' me in such a awful plight,
+ I t'ink of huh at mornin' an' I dream of huh at night;
+ But how's I gwine to cou't huh w'en I do' know how to write?
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+
+ My heaht is bubblin' ovah wid de t'ings I want to say;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ An' dey's lots of folks to copy what I tell 'em fu' de pay;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+ But dey's t'ings dat I's a-t'inkin' dat is only fu' huh ears,
+ An' I couldn't lu'n to write 'em ef I took a dozen years;
+ So to go down daih an' tell huh is de only way, it 'pears;
+ Oh, my; oh, my.
+
+
+AFTER MANY DAYS
+
+ I've always been a faithful man
+ An' tried to live for duty,
+ But the stringent mode of life
+ Has somewhat lost its beauty.
+
+ The story of the generous bread
+ He sent upon the waters,
+ Which after many days returns
+ To trusting sons and daughters,
+
+ Had oft impressed me, so I want
+ My soul influenced by it,
+ And bought a loaf of bread and sought
+ A stream where I could try it.
+
+ I cast my bread upon the waves
+ And fancied then to await it;
+ It had not floated far away
+ When a fish came up and ate it.
+
+ And if I want both fish and bread,
+ And surely both I'm wanting,
+ About the only way I see
+ Is for me to go fishing.
+
+
+LIZA MAY
+
+ Little brown face full of smiles,
+ And a baby's guileless wiles,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Eyes a-peeping thro' the fence
+ With an interest intense,
+ Liza May.
+
+ Ah, the gate is just ajar,
+ And the meadow is not far,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ And the road feels very sweet,
+ To your little toddling feet,
+ Liza May.
+
+ Ah, you roguish runaway,
+ What will toiling mother say,
+ Liza May, Liza May?
+
+ What care you who smile to greet
+ Everyone you chance to meet,
+ Liza May?
+
+ Soft the mill-race sings its song,
+ Just a little way along,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ But the song is full of guile,
+ Turn, ah turn, your steps the while,
+ Liza May.
+
+ You have caught the gleam and glow
+ Where the darkling waters flow,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Flash of ripple, bend of bough,
+ Where are all the angels now?
+ Liza May.
+
+ Now a mother's eyes intense
+ Gazing o'er a shabby fence,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Then a mother's anguished face
+ Peering all around the place,
+ Liza May.
+
+ Hear the agonizing call
+ For a mother's all in all,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Hear a mother's maddened prayer
+ To the calm unanswering air,
+ Liza May.
+
+ What's become of--Liza May?
+ What has darkened all the day?
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Ask the waters dark and fleet,
+ If they know the smiling, sweet
+ Liza May.
+
+ Call her, call her as you will,
+ On the meadow, on the hill,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ Through the brush or beaten track
+ Echo only gives you back,
+ Liza May.
+
+ Ah, but you were loving--sweet,
+ On your little toddling feet,
+ Liza May, Liza May.
+
+ But through all the coming years,
+ Must a mother breathe with tears,
+ Liza May.
+
+
+THE MASTERS
+
+ Oh, who is the Lord of the land of life,
+ When hotly goes the fray?
+ When, fierce we smile in the midst of strife
+ Then whom shall we obey?
+
+ Oh, Love is the Lord of the land of life
+ Who holds a monarch's sway;
+ He wends with wish of maid and wife,
+ And him you must obey.
+
+ Then who is the Lord of the land of life,
+ At setting of the sun?
+ Whose word shall sway when Peace is rife
+ And all the fray is done?
+
+ Then Death is the Lord of the land of life,
+ When your hot race is run.
+ Meet then his scythe and, pruning-knife
+ When the fray is lost or won.
+
+
+TROUBLE IN DE KITCHEN
+
+ Dey was oncet a awful quoil 'twixt de skillet an' de pot;
+ De pot was des a-bilin' an' de skillet sho' was hot.
+ Dey slurred each othah's colah an' dey called each othah names,
+ Wile de coal-oil can des gu-gled, po'in oil erpon de flames.
+
+ De pot, hit called de skillet des a flat, disfiggered t'ing,
+ An' de skillet 'plied dat all de pot could do was set an' sing,
+ An' he 'lowed dat dey was 'lusions dat he wouldn't stoop to mek
+ 'Case he reckernize his juty, an' he had too much at steak.
+
+ Well, at dis de pot biled ovah, case his tempah gittin' highah,
+ An' de skillet got to sputterin', den de fat was in de fiah.
+ Mistah flan lay daih smokin' an' a-t'inkin' to hisse'f,
+ Wile de peppah-box us nudgin' of de gingah on de she'f.
+
+ Den dey all des lef hit to 'im, 'bout de trouble an' de talk;
+ An' howevah he decided, w'y dey bofe 'u'd walk de chalk;
+ But de fiah uz so 'sgusted how dey quoil an' dey shout
+ Dat he cooled 'em off, I reckon, w'en he puffed an' des went out.
+
+
+CHRISTMAS
+
+ Step wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle,
+ Dis ain' no time fu' to pottah an' piddle:
+ Fu' Christmas is comin', it's right on de way,
+ An' dey's houahs to dance 'fo' de break o' de day.
+
+ What if de win' is taihin' an' whistlin'?
+ Look at dat' fiah how hit's spittin' an' bristlin'!
+ Heat in de ashes an' heat in de cindahs,
+ Ol' mistah Fros' kin des look thoo de windahs.
+
+ Heat up de toddy an' pas' de wa'm glasses,
+ Don' stop to shivah at blowin's an' blas'es,
+ Keep on de kittle an' keep it a-hummin',
+ Eat all an' drink all, dey's lots o' a-comin'.
+ Look hyeah, Maria, don't open dat oven,
+ Want all dese people a-pushin' an' shovin'?
+
+ Res' f'om de dance? Yes, you done cotch dat odah,
+ Mammy done cotch it, an' law! hit nigh flo'd huh;
+ 'Possum is monst'ous fu' mekin' folks fin' it!
+ Come, draw yo' cheers up, I's sho' I do' min' it.
+ Eat up dem critters, you men folks an' wimmens,
+ 'Possums ain' skace w'en dey's lots o' pu'simmons.
+
+
+ROSES AND PEARLS
+
+ Your spoken words are roses fine and sweet,
+ The songs you sing are perfect pearls of sound.
+ How lavish nature is about your feet,
+ To scatter flowers and jewels both around.
+
+ Blushing the stream of petal beauty flows,
+ Softly the white strings trickle down and shine.
+ Oh! speak to me, my love, I crave a rose.
+ Sing me a song, for I would pearls were mine.
+
+
+RAIN-SONGS
+
+ The rain streams down like harp-strings from the sky;
+ The wind, that world-old harpist sitteth by;
+ And ever as he sings his low refrain,
+ He plays upon the harp-strings of the rain.
+
+
+A LOST DREAM
+
+ Ah, I have changed, I do not know
+ Why lonely hours affect me so.
+ In days of yore, this were not wont,
+ No loneliness my soul could daunt.
+
+ For me too serious for my age,
+ The weighty tome of hoary sage,
+ Until with puzzled heart astir,
+ One God-giv'n night, I dreamed of her.
+
+ I loved no woman, hardly knew
+ More of the sex that strong men woo
+ Than cloistered monk within his cell;
+ But now the dream is lost, and hell
+
+ Holds me her captive tight and fast
+ Who prays and struggles for the past.
+ No living maid has charmed my eyes,
+ But now, my soul is wonder-wise.
+
+ For I have dreamed of her and seen
+ Her red-brown tresses' ruddy sheen,
+ Have known her sweetness, lip to lip,
+ The joy of her companionship.
+
+ When days were bleak and winds were rude,
+ She shared my smiling solitude,
+ And all the bare hills walked with me
+ To hearken winter's melody.
+
+ And when the spring came o'er the land
+ We fared together hand in hand
+ Beneath the linden's leafy screen
+ That waved above us faintly green.
+
+ In summer, by the river-side,
+ Our souls were kindred with the tide
+ That floated onward to the sea
+ As we swept toward Eternity.
+
+ The bird's call and the water's drone
+ Were all for us and us alone.
+ The water-fall that sang all night
+ Was her companion, my delight,
+
+ And e'en the squirrel, as he sped
+ Along the branches overhead,
+ Half kindly and half envious,
+ Would chatter at the joy of us.
+
+ 'Twas but a dream, her face, her hair,
+ The spring-time sweet, the winter bare,
+ The summer when the woods we ranged,--
+ 'Twas but a dream, but all is changed.
+
+ Yes, all is changed and all has fled,
+ The dream is broken, shattered, dead.
+ And yet, sometimes, I pray to know
+ How just a dream could hold me so.
+
+
+A SONG
+
+ Thou art the soul of a summer's day,
+ Thou art the breath of the rose.
+ But the summer is fled
+ And the rose is dead
+ Where are they gone, who knows, who knows?
+
+ Thou art the blood of my heart o' hearts,
+ Thou art my soul's repose,
+ But my heart grows numb
+ And my soul is dumb
+ Where art thou, love, who knows, who knows?
+
+ Thou art the hope of my after years--
+ Sun for my winter snows
+ But the years go by
+ 'Neath a clouded sky.
+ Where shall we meet, who knows, Who knows?
+
+
+
+
+MISCELLANEOUS
+
+
+THE CAPTURE
+
+ Duck come switchin' 'cross de lot
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ Hurry up an' hide de pot
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ Duck's a mighty 'spicious fowl,
+ Slick as snake an' wise as owl;
+ Hol' dat dog, don't let him yowl!
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+
+ Th'ow dat co'n out kind o' slow
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ Keep yo'se'f behin' de do'
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ Lots o' food'll kill his feah,
+ Co'n is cheap but fowls is deah--
+ "Come, good ducky, come on heah."
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+
+ Ain't he fat and ain't he fine,
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ Des can't wait to make him mine.
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+ See him waddle when he walk,
+ 'Sh! keep still and don't you talk!
+ Got you! Don't you daih to squawk!
+ Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
+
+
+WHEN WINTER DARKENING ALL AROUND
+
+ When winter covering all the ground
+ Hides every sign of Spring, sir.
+ However you may look around,
+ Pray what will then you sing, sir?
+
+ The Spring was here last year I know,
+ And many bards did flute, sir;
+ I shall not fear a little snow
+ Forbid me from my lute, sir.
+
+ If words grow dull and rhymes grow rare,
+ I'll sing of Spring's farewell, sir.
+ For every season steals an air,
+ Which has a Springtime smell, sir.
+
+ But if upon the other side,
+ With passionate longing burning,
+ Will seek the half unjeweled tide,
+ And sing of Spring's returning.
+
+
+FROM THE PORCH AT RUNNYMEDE
+
+ I stand above the city's rush and din,
+ And gaze far down with calm and undimmed eyes,
+ To where the misty smoke wreath grey and dim
+ Above the myriad roofs and spires rise;
+
+ Still is my heart and vacant is my breath--
+ This lovely view is breath and life to me,
+ Why I could charm the icy soul of death
+ With such a sight as this I stand and see.
+
+ I hear no sound of labor's din or stir,
+ I feel no weight of worldly cares or fears,
+ Sweet song of birds, of wings the soothing whirr,
+ These sounds alone assail my listening ears.
+
+ Unwhipt of conscience here I stand alone,
+ The breezes humbly kiss my garment's hem;
+ I am a king--the whole world is my throne,
+ The blue grey sky my royal diadem.
+
+
+EQUIPMENT
+
+ With what thou gavest me, O Master,
+ I have wrought.
+ Such chances, such abilities,
+ To see the end was not for my poor eyes,
+ Thine was the impulse, thine the forming thought.
+
+ Ah, I have wrought,
+ And these sad hands have right to tell their story,
+ It was no hard up striving after glory,
+ Catching and losing, gaining and failing,
+ Raging me back at the world's raucous railing.
+ Simply and humbly from stone and from wood,
+ Wrought I the things that to thee might seem good.
+
+ If they are little, ah God! but the cost,
+ Who but thou knowest the all that is lost!
+ If they are few, is the workmanship true?
+ Try them and weigh me, whate'er be my due!
+
+
+EVENING
+
+ The moon begins her stately ride
+ Across the summer sky;
+ The happy wavelets lash the shore,--
+ The tide is rising high.
+
+ Beneath some friendly blade of grass
+ The lazy beetle cowers;
+ The coffers of the air are filled
+ With offerings from the flowers.
+
+ And slowly buzzing o'er my head
+ A swallow wings her flight;
+ I hear the weary plowman sing
+ As falls the restful night.
+
+
+TO PFRIMMER
+
+(Lines on reading "Driftwood.")
+
+ Driftwood gathered here and there
+ Along the beach of time;
+ Now and then a chip of truth
+ 'Mid boards and boughs of rhyme;
+ Driftwood gathered day by day,--
+ The cypress and the oak,--
+ Twigs that in some former time
+ From sturdy home trees broke.
+ Did this wood come floating thick
+ All along down "Injin Crik?"
+ Or did kind tides bring it thee
+ From the past's receding sea
+ Down the stream of memory?
+
+
+TO THE MIAMI
+
+ Kiss me, Miami, thou most constant one!
+ I love thee more for that thou changest not.
+ When Winter comes with frigid blast,
+ Or when the blithesome Spring is past
+ And Summer's here with sunshine hot,
+ Or in sere Autumn, thou has still the pow'r
+ To charm alike, whate'er the hour.
+
+ Kiss me, Miami, with thy dewy lips;
+ Throbs fast my heart e'en as thine own breast beats.
+ My soul doth rise as rise thy waves,
+ As each on each the dark shore laves
+ And breaks in ripples and retreats.
+ There is a poem in thine every phase;
+ Thou still has sung through all thy days.
+
+ Tell me, Miami, how it was with thee
+ When years ago Tecumseh in his prime
+ His birch boat o'er thy waters sent,
+ And pitched upon thy banks his tent.
+ In that long-gone, poetic time,
+ Did some bronze bard thy flowing stream sit by
+ And sing thy praises, e'en as I?
+
+ Did some bronze lover 'neath this dark old tree
+ Whisper of love unto his Indian maid?
+ And didst thou list his murmurs deep,
+ And in thy bosom safely keep
+ The many raging vows they said?
+ Or didst thou tell to fish and frog and bird
+ The raptured scenes that there occurred?
+
+ But, O dear stream, what volumes thou couldst tell
+ To all who know thy language as I do,
+ Of life and love and jealous hate!
+ But now to tattle were too late,--
+ Thou who hast ever been so true.
+ Tell not to every passing idler here
+ All those sweet tales that reached thine ear.
+
+ But, silent stream, speak out and tell me this:
+ I say that men and things are still the same;
+ Were men as bold to do and dare?
+ Were women then as true and fair?
+ Did poets seek celestial flame,
+ The hero die to gain a laureled brow,
+ And women suffer, then as now?
+
+
+CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+ Ring out, ye bells!
+ All Nature swells
+ With gladness at the wondrous story,--
+ The world was lorn,
+ But Christ is born
+ To change our sadness into glory.
+
+ Sing, earthlings, sing!
+ To-night a King
+ Hath come from heaven's high throne to bless us.
+ The outstretched hand
+ O'er all the land
+ Is raised in pity to caress us.
+
+ Come at his call;
+ Be joyful all;
+ Away with mourning and with sadness!
+ The heavenly choir
+ With holy fire
+ Their voices raise in songs of gladness.
+
+ The darkness breaks
+ And Dawn awakes,
+ Her cheeks suffused with youthful blushes.
+ The rocks and stones
+ In holy tones
+ Are singing sweeter than the thrushes.
+
+ Then why should we
+ In silence be,
+ When Nature lends her voice to praises;
+ When heaven and earth
+ Proclaim the truth
+ Of Him for whom that lone star blazes?
+
+ No, be not still,
+ But with a will
+ Strike all your harps and set them ringing;
+ On hill and heath
+ Let every breath
+ Throw all its power into singing!
+
+
+A SUMMER PASTORAL
+
+ It's hot to-day. The bees is buzzin'
+ Kinder don't-keer-like aroun'
+ An' fur off the warm air dances
+ O'er the parchin' roofs in town.
+ In the brook the cows is standin';
+ Childern hidin' in the hay;
+ Can't keep none of 'em a workin',
+ 'Cause it's hot to-day.
+
+ It's hot to-day. The sun is blazin'
+ Like a great big ball o' fire;
+ Seems as ef instead o' settin'
+ It keeps mountin' higher an' higher.
+ I'm as triflin' as the children,
+ Though I blame them lots an' scold;
+ I keep slippin' to the spring-house,
+ Where the milk is rich an' cold.
+
+ The very air within its shadder
+ Smells o' cool an' restful things,
+ An' a roguish little robin
+ Sits above the place an' sings.
+ I don't mean to be a shirkin',
+ But I linger by the way
+ Longer, mebbe, than is needful,
+ 'Cause it's hot to-day.
+
+ It's hot to-day. The horses stumble
+ Half asleep across the fiel's;
+ An' a host o' teasin' fancies
+ O'er my burnin' senses steals,--
+ Dreams o' cool rooms, curtains lowered,
+ An' a sofy's temptin' look;
+ Patter o' composin' raindrops
+ Or the ripple of a brook.
+
+ I strike a stump! That wakes me sudden;
+ Dreams all vanish into air.
+ Lordy! how I chew my whiskers;
+ 'Twouldn't do fur me to swear.
+ But I have to be so keerful
+ 'Bout my thoughts an' what I say;
+ Somethin' might slip out unheeded,
+ 'Cause it's hot to-day.
+
+ Git up, there, Suke! you, Sal, git over!
+ Sakes alive! how I do sweat.
+ Every stitch that I've got on me,
+ Bet a cent, is wringin' wet.
+ If this keeps up, I'll lose my temper.
+ Gee there, Sal, you lazy brute!
+ Wonder who on airth this weather
+ Could 'a' be'n got up to suit?
+
+ You, Sam, go bring a tin o' water;
+ Dash it all, don't be so slow!
+ 'Pears as ef you tuk an hour
+ 'Tween each step to stop an' blow.
+ Think I want to stand a meltin'
+ Out here in this b'ilin' sun,
+ While you stop to think about it?
+ Lift them feet o' your'n an' run.
+
+ It ain't no use; I'm plumb fetaggled.
+ Come an' put this team away.
+ I won't plow another furrer;
+ It's too mortal hot to-day.
+ I ain't weak, nor I ain't lazy,
+ But I'll stand this half day's loss
+ 'Fore I let the devil make me
+ Lose my patience an' git cross.
+
+
+IN SUMMER TIME
+
+ When summer time has come, and all
+ The world is in the magic thrall
+ Of perfumed airs that lull each sense
+ To fits of drowsy indolence;
+ When skies are deepest blue above,
+ And flow'rs aflush,--then most I love
+ To start, while early dews are damp,
+ And wend my way in woodland tramp
+ Where forests rustle, tree on tree,
+ And sing their silent songs to me;
+ Where pathways meet and path ways part,--
+ To walk with Nature heart by heart,
+ Till wearied out at last I lie
+ Where some sweet stream steals singing by
+ A mossy bank; where violets vie
+ In color with the summer sky,--
+ Or take my rod and line and hook,
+ And wander to some darkling brook,
+ Where all day long the willows dream,
+ And idly droop to kiss the stream,
+ And there to loll from morn till night--
+ Unheeding nibble, run, or bite--
+ Just for the joy of being there
+ And drinking in the summer air,
+ The summer sounds, and summer sights,
+ That set a restless mind to rights
+ When grief and pain and raging doubt
+ Of men and creeds have worn it out;
+ The birds' song and the water's drone,
+ The humming bees' low monotone,
+ The murmur of the passing breeze,
+ And all the sounds akin to these,
+ That make a man in summer time
+ Feel only fit for rest and rhyme.
+ Joy springs all radiant in my breast;
+ Though pauper poor, than king more blest,
+ The tide beats in my soul so strong
+ That happiness breaks forth in song,
+ And rings aloud the welkin blue
+ With all the songs I ever knew.
+ O time of rapture! time of song!
+ How swiftly glide thy days along
+ Adown the current of the years,
+ Above the rocks of grief and tears!
+ 'Tis wealth enough of joy for me
+ In summer time to simply be.
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING POEM
+
+ The sun hath shed its kindly light,
+ Our harvesting is gladly o'er
+ Our fields have felt no killing blight,
+ Our bins are filled with goodly store.
+
+ From pestilence, fire, flood, and sword
+ We have been spared by thy decree,
+ And now with humble hearts, O Lord,
+ We come to pay our thanks to thee.
+
+ We feel that had our merits been
+ The measure of thy gifts to us,
+ We erring children, born of sin,
+ Might not now be rejoicing thus.
+
+ No deed of ours hath brought us grace;
+ When thou were nigh our sight was dull,
+ We hid in trembling from thy face,
+ But thou, O God, wert merciful.
+
+ Thy mighty hand o'er all the land
+ Hath still been open to bestow
+ Those blessings which our wants demand
+ From heaven, whence all blessings flow.
+
+ Thou hast, with ever watchful eye,
+ Looked down on us with holy care,
+ And from thy storehouse in the sky
+ Hast scattered plenty everywhere.
+
+ Then lift we up our songs of praise
+ To thee, O Father, good and kind;
+ To thee we consecrate our days;
+ Be thine the temple of each mind.
+
+ With incense sweet our thanks ascend;
+ Before thy works our powers pall;
+ Though we should strive years without end,
+ We could not thank thee for them all.
+
+
+NUTTING SONG
+
+ The November sun invites me,
+ And although the chill wind smites me,
+ I will wander to the woodland
+ Where the laden trees await;
+ And with loud and joyful singing
+ I will set the forest ringing,
+ As if I were king of Autumn,
+ And Dame Nature were my mate,--
+
+ While the squirrel in his gambols
+ Fearless round about me ambles,
+ As if he were bent on showing
+ In my kingdom he'd a share;
+ While my warm blood leaps and dashes,
+ And my eye with freedom flashes,
+ As my soul drinks deep and deeper
+ Of the magic in the air.
+
+ There's a pleasure found in nutting,
+ All life's cares and griefs outshutting,
+ That is fuller far and better
+ Than what prouder sports impart.
+ Who could help a carol trilling
+ As he sees the baskets filling?
+ Why, the flow of song keeps running
+ O'er the high walls of the heart.
+
+ So when I am home returning,
+ When the sun is lowly burning,
+ I will once more wake the echoes
+ With a happy song of praise,--
+ For the golden sunlight blessing,
+ And the breezes' soft caressing,
+ And the precious boon of living
+ In the sweet November days.
+
+
+LOVE'S PICTURES
+
+ Like the blush upon the rose
+ When the wooing south wind speaks,
+ Kissing soft its petals,
+ Are thy cheeks.
+
+ Tender, soft, beseeching, true,
+ Like the stars that deck the skies
+ Through the ether sparkling,
+ Are thine eyes.
+
+ Like the song of happy birds,
+ When the woods with spring rejoice,
+ In their blithe awak'ning,
+ Is thy voice.
+
+ Like soft threads of clustered silk
+ O'er thy face so pure and fair,
+ Sweet in its profusion,
+ Is thy hair.
+
+ Like a fair but fragile vase,
+ Triumph of the carver's art,
+ Graceful formed and slender,--
+ Thus thou art.
+
+ Ah, thy cheek, thine eyes, thy voice,
+ And thy hair's delightful wave
+ Make me, I'll confess it,
+ Thy poor slave!
+
+
+THE OLD HOMESTEAD
+
+ 'Tis an old deserted homestead
+ On the outskirts of the town,
+ Where the roof is all moss-covered,
+ And the walls are tumbling down;
+ But around that little cottage
+ Do my brightest mem'ries cling,
+ For 'twas there I spent the moments
+ Of my youth,--life's happy spring.
+
+ I remember how I used to
+ Swing upon the old front gate,
+ While the robin in the tree tops
+ Sung a night song to his mate;
+ And how later in the evening,
+ As the beaux were wont to do,
+ Mr. Perkins, in the parlor,
+ Sat and sparked my sister Sue.
+
+ There my mother--heaven bless her!--
+ Kissed or spanked as was our need,
+ And by smile or stroke implanted
+ In our hearts fair virtue's seed;
+ While my father, man of wisdom,
+ Lawyer keen, and farmer stout,
+ Argued long with neighbor Dobbins
+ How the corn crops would turn out.
+
+ Then the quiltings and the dances--
+ How my feet were wont to fly,
+ While the moon peeped through the barn chinks
+ From her stately place on high.
+ Oh, those days, so sweet, so happy,
+ Ever backward o'er me roll;
+ Still the music of that farm life
+ Rings an echo in my soul.
+
+ Now the old place is deserted,
+ And the walls are falling down;
+ All who made the home life cheerful,
+ Now have died or moved to town.
+ But about that dear old cottage
+ Shall my mem'ries ever cling,
+ For 'twas there I spent the moments
+ Of my, youth,--life's happy spring.
+
+
+ON THE DEATH OF W. C.
+
+ Thou arrant robber, Death!
+ Couldst thou not find
+ Some lesser one than he
+ To rob of breath,--
+ Some poorer mind
+ Thy prey to be?
+
+ His mind was like the sky,--
+ As pure and free;
+ His heart was broad and open
+ As the sea.
+ His soul shone purely through his face,
+ And Love made him her dwelling place.
+
+ Not less the scholar than the friend,
+ Not less a friend than man;
+ The manly life did shorter end
+ Because so broad it ran.
+
+ Weep not for him, unhappy Muse!
+ His merits found a grander use
+ Some other-where. God wisely sees
+ The place that needs his qualities.
+ Weep not for him, for when Death lowers
+ O'er youth's ambrosia-scented bowers
+ He only plucks the choicest flowers.
+
+
+AN OLD MEMORY
+
+ How sweet the music sounded
+ That summer long ago,
+ When you were by my side, love,
+ To list its gentle flow.
+
+ I saw your eyes a-shining,
+ I felt your rippling hair,
+ I kissed your pearly cheek, love,
+ And had no thought of care.
+
+ And gay or sad the music,
+ With subtle charm replete;
+ I found in after years, love
+ 'Twas you that made it sweet.
+
+ For standing where we heard it,
+ I hear again the strain;
+ It wakes my heart, but thrills it
+ With sad, mysterious pain.
+
+ It pulses not so joyous
+ As when you stood with me,
+ And hand in hand we listened
+ To that low melody.
+
+ Oh, could the years turn back, love!
+ Oh, could events be changed
+ To what they were that time, love,
+ Before we were estranged;
+
+ Wert thou once more a maiden
+ Whose smile was gold to me;
+ Were I once more the lover
+ Whose word was life to thee,--
+
+ O God! could all be altered,
+ The pain, the grief, the strife,
+ And wert thou--as thou shouldst be--
+ My true and loyal wife!
+
+ But all my tears are idle,
+ And all my wishes vain.
+ What once you were to me, love,
+ You may not be again.
+
+ For I, alas! like others,
+ Have missed my dearest aim.
+ I asked for love. Oh, mockery!
+ Fate comes to me with fame!
+
+
+A CAREER
+
+ "Break me my bounds, and let me fly
+ To regions vast of boundless sky;
+ Nor I, like piteous Daphne, be
+ Root-bound. Ah, no! I would be free
+ As yon same bird that in its flight
+ Outstrips the range of mortal sight;
+ Free as the mountain streams that gush
+ From bubbling springs, and downward rush
+ Across the serrate mountain's side,--
+ The rocks o'erwhelmed, their banks defied,--
+ And like the passions in the soul,
+ Swell into torrents as they roll.
+ Oh, circumscribe me not by rules
+ That serve to lead the minds of fools!
+ But give me pow'r to work my will,
+ And at my deeds the world shall thrill.
+ My words shall rouse the slumb'ring zest
+ That hardly stirs in manhood's breast;
+ And as the sun feeds lesser lights,
+ As planets have their satellites,
+ So round about me will I bind
+ The men who prize a master mind!"
+
+ He lived a silent life alone,
+ And laid him down when it was done;
+ And at his head was placed a stone
+ On which was carved a name unknown!
+
+
+ON THE RIVER
+
+ The sun is low,
+ The waters flow,
+ My boat is dancing to and fro.
+ The eve is still,
+ Yet from the hill
+ The killdeer echoes loud and shrill.
+
+ The paddles plash,
+ The wavelets dash,
+ We see the summer lightning flash;
+ While now and then,
+ In marsh and fen
+ Too muddy for the feet of men,
+
+ Where neither bird
+ Nor beast has stirred,
+ The spotted bullfrog's croak is heard.
+ The wind is high,
+ The grasses sigh,
+ The sluggish stream goes sobbing by.
+
+ And far away
+ The dying day
+ Has cast its last effulgent ray;
+ While on the land
+ The shadows stand
+ Proclaiming that the eve's at hand.
+
+
+POOR WITHERED ROSE
+
+ _A Song_
+
+ Poor withered rose, she gave it me,
+ Half in revenge and half in glee;
+ Its petals not so pink by half
+ As are her lips when curled to laugh,
+ As are her cheeks when dimples gay
+ In merry mischief o'er them play.
+
+ _Chorus_
+
+ Forgive, forgive, it seems unkind
+ To cast thy petals to the wind;
+ But it is right, and lest I err
+ So scatter I all thought of her.
+
+ Poor withered rose, so like my heart,
+ That wilts at sorrow's cruel dart.
+ Who hath not felt the winter's blight
+ When every hope seemed warm and bright?
+ Who doth not know love unreturned,
+ E'en when the heart most wildly burned?
+
+ Poor withered rose, thou liest dead;
+ Too soon thy beauty's bloom hath fled.
+ 'Tis not without a tearful ruth
+ I watch decay thy blushing youth;
+ And though thy life goes out in dole,
+ Thy perfume lingers in my soul.
+
+
+WORN OUT
+
+ You bid me hold my peace
+ And dry my fruitless tears,
+ Forgetting that I bear
+ A pain beyond my years.
+
+ You say that I should smile
+ And drive the gloom away;
+ I would, but sun and smiles
+ Have left my life's dark day.
+
+ All time seems cold and void,
+ And naught but tears remain;
+ Life's music beats for me
+ A melancholy strain.
+
+ I used at first to hope,
+ But hope is past and, gone;
+ And now without a ray
+ My cheerless life drags on.
+
+ Like to an ash-stained hearth
+ When all its fires are spent;
+ Like to an autumn wood
+ By storm winds rudely shent,--
+
+ So sadly goes my heart,
+ Unclothed of hope and peace;
+ It asks not joy again,
+ But only seeks release.
+
+
+JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
+
+(From a Westerner's Point of View.)
+
+ No matter what you call it,
+ Whether genius, or art,
+ He sings the simple songs that come
+ The closest to your heart.
+ Fur trim an' skillful phrases,
+ I do not keer a jot;
+ 'Tain't the words alone, but feelin's,
+ That tech the tender spot.
+ An' that's jest why I love him,--
+ Why, he's got sech human feelin',
+ An' in ev'ry song he gives us,
+ You kin see it creepin', stealin',
+ Through the core the tears go tricklin',
+ But the edge is bright an' smiley;
+ I never saw a poet
+ Like that poet Whitcomb Riley.
+
+ His heart keeps beatin' time with our'n
+ In measures fast or slow;
+ He tells us jest the same ol' things
+ Our souls have learned to know.
+ He paints our joys an' sorrers
+ In a way so stric'ly true,
+ That a body can't help knowin'
+ That he has felt them too.
+ If there's a lesson to be taught,
+ He never fears to teach it,
+ An' he puts the food so good an' low
+ That the humblest one kin reach it.
+ Now in our time, when poets rhyme
+ For money, fun, or fashion,
+ 'Tis good to hear one voice so clear
+ That thrills with honest passion.
+ So let the others build their songs,
+ An' strive to polish highly,--
+ There's none of them kin tech the heart
+ Like our own Whitcomb Riley.
+
+
+A MADRIGAL
+
+ Dream days of fond delight and hours
+ As rosy-hued as dawn, are mine.
+ Love's drowsy wine,
+ Brewed from the heart of Passion flowers,
+ Flows softly o'er my lips
+ And save thee, all the world is in eclipse.
+
+ There were no light if thou wert not;
+ The sun would be too sad to shine,
+ And all the line
+ Of hours from dawn would be a blot;
+ And Night would haunt the skies,
+ An unlaid ghost with staring dark-ringed eyes.
+
+ Oh, love, if thou wert not my love,
+ And I perchance not thine--what then?
+ Could gift of men
+ Or favor of the God above,
+ Plant aught in this bare heart
+ Or teach this tongue the singer's soulful art?
+
+ Ah, no! 'Tis love, and love alone
+ That spurs my soul so surely on;
+ Turns night to dawn,
+ And thorns to roses fairest blown;
+ And winter drear to spring--
+ Oh, were it not for love I could not sing!
+
+
+A STARRY NIGHT
+
+ A cloud fell down from the heavens,
+ And broke on the mountain's brow;
+ It scattered the dusky fragments
+ All over the vale below.
+
+ The moon and the stars were anxious
+ To know what its fate might be;
+ So they rushed to the azure op'ning,
+ And all peered down to see.
+
+
+A LYRIC
+
+ My lady love lives far away,
+ And oh my heart is sad by day,
+ And ah my tears fall fast by night,
+ What may I do in such a plight.
+
+ Why, miles grow few when love is fleet,
+ And love, you know, hath flying feet;
+ Break off thy sighs and witness this,
+ How poor a thing mere distance is.
+
+ My love knows not I love her so,
+ And would she scorn me, did she know?
+ How may the tale I would impart
+ Attract her ear and storm her heart?
+
+ Calm thou the tempest in my breast,
+ Who loves in silence loves the best,
+ But bide thy time, she will awake,
+ No night so dark but morn will break.
+
+ But though my heart so strongly yearn,
+ My lady loves me not in turn,
+ How may I win the blest reply
+ That my void heart shall satisfy.
+
+ Love breedeth love, be thou but true,
+ And soon thy love shall love thee, too;
+ If Fate hath meant you heart for heart,
+ There's naught may keep you twain apart.
+
+
+HOW SHALL I WOO THEE
+
+ How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own?
+ Say in what tongue shall I tell of my love.
+ I who was fearless so timid have grown,
+ All that was eagle has turned into dove.
+ The path from the meadow that leads to the bars
+ Is more to me now than the path of the stars.
+
+ How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own,
+ Thou who art fair and as far as the moon?
+ Had I the strength of the torrent's wild tone,
+ Had I the sweetness of warblers in June;
+ The strength and the sweetness might charm and persuade,
+ But neither have I my petition to aid.
+
+ How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own?
+ How shall I traverse the distance between
+ My humble cot and your glorious throne?
+ How shall a clown gain the ear of a queen?
+ Oh teach me the tongue that shall please thee the best,
+ For till I have won thee my heart may not rest.
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Many contractions which would normally be printed together in their
+shortened form are left spaced, as printed. Sometimes this is done
+due to the meter of the poem. Other times it is just the older way that
+printers handled these words. The original was not always consistent
+about how these were handled, and may have been contracted to save
+space.
+
+2. Since this book has a significant amount of dialect, no attempt was
+made to change any odd spellings. Some of these words are not easy to
+_translate_, but usually the context will be sufficient. For instance,
+the word _stuhs_ means stirs, as, 'dat melody stuhs me up'.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence
+Dunbar, by Paul Laurence Dunbar
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF DUNBAR ***
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