The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Paul Laurence Dunbar
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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