Paul Laurence Dunbar

The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar


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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

       Table of Contents

      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

      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,