Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 101.  
    We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs,
    In dis howlin' wildaness,Fu' to speak some words of comfo't
  • 102.  
    Ther' ain't no use in all this strife,
    An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life.I don't believe in goin' too fast
  • 103.  
    How sweet the music sounded
    That summer long ago,When you were by my side, love,
  • 104.  
    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,
  • 105.  
    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,
  • 106.  
    My muvver's ist the nicest one
    ‘At ever lived wiz folks;She lets you have ze mostes' fun,
  • 107.  
    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,
  • 108.  
    When first of wise old Johnson taught,
    My youthful mind its homage brought,And made the pond'rous crusty sage
  • 109.  
    Since I left the city's heat
    For this sylvan, cool retreat,High upon the hill-side here
  • 110.  
    Whut time ‘d dat clock strike?
    Nine? No-eight; I didn't think hit was so late.
  • 111.  
    Adown the west a golden glow
    Sinks burning in the sea,And all the dreams of long ago
  • 112.  
    I know my love is true,
    And oh the day is fair.The sky is clear and blue,
  • 113.  
    By Mystic's banks I held my dream.
    (I held my fishing rod as well,)The vision was of dace and bream,
  • 114.  
    As in some dim baronial hall restrained,
    A prisoner sits, engirt by secret doorsAnd waving tapestries that argue forth
  • 115.  
    Home agin, an' home to stay-
    Yes, it's nice to be away.Plenty things to do an' see,
  • 116.  
    I

  • 117.  
    “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.”
  • 118.  
    Standin' at de winder,
    Feelin' kind o' glum,Listenin' to de raindrops
  • 119.  
    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-
  • 120.  
    Caught Susanner whistlin'; well,
    It's most nigh too good to tell.'Twould ‘a' b'en too good to see
  • 121.  
    By rugged ways and thro' the night
    We struggle blindly toward the light;And groping, stumbling, ever pray
  • 122.  
    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,
  • 123.  
    The cloud looked in at the window,
    And said to the day, “Be dark!”And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,
  • 124.  
    Bones a-gittin' achy,
    Back a-feelin' col',Han's a-growin' shaky,
  • 125.  
    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,
  • 126.  
    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,
  • 127.  
    Ring out, ye bells!
    All Nature swellsWith gladness at the wondrous story,-
  • 128.  
    The snow lies deep upon the ground,
    And winter's brightness all aroundDecks bravely out the forest sere,
  • 129.  
    Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill,
    O chone!If I was her muther, I'd frown on sich foolin',
  • 130.  
    I

  • 131.  
    In the silence of my heart,
    I will spend an hour with thee,When my love shall rend apart
  • 132.  
    The sky of brightest gray seems dark
    To one whose sky was ever white.To one who never knew a spark,
  • 133.  
    Because I had loved so deeply,
    Because I had loved so long,God in His great compassion
  • 134.  
    Search thou my heart;
    If there be guile,It shall depart
  • 135.  
    “Good-bye,” I said to my conscience-
    “Good-bye for aye and aye,”And I put her hands off harshly,
  • 136.  
    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,
  • 137.  
    Villain shows his indiscretion,
    Villain's partner makes confession.Juvenile, with golden tresses,
  • 138.  
    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?
  • 139.  
    An angel, robed in spotless white,
    Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
  • 140.  
    The gray dawn on the mountain top
    Is slow to pass away.Still lays him by in sluggish dreams,
  • 141.  
    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,
  • 142.  
    De way t'ings come, hit seems to me,
    Is des' one monst'ous mystery;De way hit seem to strike a man,
  • 143.  
    I ‘ve been watchin' of 'em, parson,
    An' I ‘m sorry fur to say‘At my mind is not contented
  • 144.  
    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,
  • 145.  
    Storm and strife and stress,
    Lost in a wilderness,Groping to find a way,
  • 146.  
    Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'
    Sets yo' haid a reelin',Meks you ovah good and new,
  • 147.  
    Let me close the eyes of my soul
    That I may not seeWhat stands between thee and me.
  • 148.  
    My neighbor lives on the hill,
    And I in the valley dwell,My neighbor must look down on me,
  • 149.  
    I have seen full many a sight
    Born of day or drawn by night:Sunlight on a silver stream,
  • 150.  
    Tell your love where the roses blow,
    And the hearts of the lilies quiver,Not in the city's gleam and glow,
Total 513 poems written by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Poem of the day

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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