Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 51.  
    'Tis fine to play
    In the fragrant hay,And romp on the golden load;
  • 52.  
    Come, essay a sprightly measure,
    Tuned to some light song of pleasure. Maidens, let your brows be crowned
  • 53.  
    The Young Master Asks For A Story

  • 54.  
    “Break me my bounds, and let me fly
    To regions vast of boundless sky;Nor I, like piteous Daphne, be
  • 55.  
    De win' is blowin' wahmah,
    An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;Dey's a so't o' mist a-risin'
  • 56.  
    Uncle John, he makes me tired;
    Thinks ‘at he's jest so all-firedSmart, ‘at he kin pick up, so,
  • 57.  
    Yes, my ha't 's ez ha'd ez stone-
    Go ‘way, Sam, an' lemme ‘lone.No; I ain't gwine change my min'-
  • 58.  
    On the wide veranda white,
    In the purple failing light,Sits the master while the sun is lowly burning;
  • 59.  
    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,
  • 60.  
    The air is dark, the sky is gray,
    The misty shadows come and go,And here within my dusky room
  • 61.  
    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,
  • 62.  
    Swing yo' lady roun' an' roun',
    Do de bes' you know;Mek yo' bow an' p'omenade
  • 63.  
    I found you and I lost you,
    All on a gleaming day.The day was rilled with sunshine,
  • 64.  
    Wen de snow 's a-fallin'
    An' de win' is col'.Mammy ‘mence a-callin',
  • 65.  
    Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
    For oh, my steps are weak,And ever as I go,
  • 66.  
    The trees bend down along the stream,
    Where anchored swings my tiny boat.The day is one to drowse and dream
  • 67.  
    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'
  • 68.  
    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,
  • 69.  
    Ah, I have changed, I do not know
    Why lonely hours affect me so.In days of yore, this were not wont,
  • 70.  
    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:
  • 71.  
    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,
  • 72.  
    My lady love lives far away,
    And oh my heart is sad by day,And ah my tears fall fast by night,
  • 73.  
    Dream days of fond delight and hours
    As rosy-hued as dawn, are mine. Love's drowsy wine,
  • 74.  
    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
  • 75.  
    Outside the rain upon the street,
    The sky all grim of hue,Inside, the music-painful sweet,
  • 76.  
    De trees is bendin' in de sto'm,
    De rain done hid de mountain's fo'm, I 's ‘lone an' in distress.
  • 77.  
    Hain't you see my Mandy Lou,
    Is it true?Whaih you been f'om day to day,
  • 78.  
    Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane,
    Treat me nice.Dough my love has tu'ned my brain,
  • 79.  
    Mastah drink his ol' Made'a,
    Missy drink huh sherry wine,Ovahseah lak his whiskey,
  • 80.  
    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,
  • 81.  
    Oh for the breath of the briny deep,
    And the tug of the bellying sail,With the sea-gull's cry across the sky
  • 82.  
    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,
  • 83.  
    Thou art the soul of a summer's day,
    Thou art the breath of the rose. But the summer is fled
  • 84.  
    De ‘cession's stahted on de gospel way,
    De Capting is a-drawin' nigh:Bettah stop a-foolin' an' a-try to pray;
  • 85.  
    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',
  • 86.  
    A cloud fell down from the heavens,
    And broke on the mountain's brow;It scattered the dusky fragments
  • 87.  
    Summah is de lovin' time-
    Do' keer what you say.Night is allus peart an' prime,
  • 88.  
    It's hot to-day. The bees is buzzin'
    Kinder don't-keer-like aroun'An' fur off the warm air dances
  • 89.  
    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
  • 90.  
    The sun hath shed its kindly light,
    Our harvesting is gladly o'erOur fields have felt no killing blight,
  • 91.  
    “Sunshine on de medders,
    Greenness on de way;Dat 's de blessed reason
  • 92.  
    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
  • 93.  
    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,
  • 94.  
    W'en you full o' worry
    'Bout yo' wo'k an' sich,W'en you kind o' bothered
  • 95.  
    I be'n down in ole Kentucky
    Fur a week er two, an' say,‘T wuz ez hard ez breakin' oxen
  • 96.  
    I've always been a faithful man
    An' tried to live for duty,But the stringent mode of life
  • 97.  
    So we, who ‘ve supped the self-same cup,
    To-night must lay our friendship by;Your wrath has burned your judgment up,
  • 98.  
    I think that though the clouds be dark,
    That though the waves dash o'er the bark,Yet after while the light will come,
  • 99.  
    Back to the breast of thy mother,
    Child of the earth!E'en her caress can not smother
  • 100.  
    Know you, winds that blow your course
    Down the verdant valleys,That somewhere you must, perforce,
Total 513 poems written by Paul Laurence Dunbar

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The Dome Of Sunday
 by Karl Shapiro

With focus sharp as Flemish-painted face
In film of varnish brightly fixed
And through a polished hand-lens deeply seen,
Sunday at noon through hyaline thin air
Sees down the street,
And in the camera of my eye depicts
Row-houses and row-lives:
Glass after glass, door after door the same,
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