Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 251.  
    O Mother Race! to thee I bring
    This pledge of faith unwavering, This tribute to thy glory.
  • 252.  
    Like sea-washed sand upon the shore,
    So fine and clean the tale,So clear and bright I almost see,
  • 253.  
    Thou arrant robber, Death!
    Couldst thou not findSome lesser one than he
  • 254.  
    Not to the midnight of the gloomy past,
    Do we revert to-day; we look uponThe golden present and the future vast
  • 255.  
    The sun is low,
    The waters flow,My boat is dancing to and fro.
  • 256.  
    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-
  • 257.  
    I sit upon the old sea wall,
    And watch the shimmering sea,Where soft and white the moonbeams fall,
  • 258.  
    Oh, I am hurt to death, my Love;
    The shafts of Fate have pierced my striving heart,And I am sick and weary of
  • 259.  
    Granny's gone a-visitin',
    Seen huh git huh shawlW'en I was a-hidin' down
  • 260.  
    Over the hills and the valleys of dreaming
    Slowly I take my way.Life is the night with its dream-visions teeming,
  • 261.  
    De breeze is blowin' ‘cross de bay.
    My lady, my lady;De ship hit teks me far away,
  • 262.  
    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,
  • 263.  
    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,
  • 264.  
    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,
  • 265.  
    A Song

  • 266.  
    Whose little lady is you, chile,
    Whose little gal is you?What's de use o' kiver'n up yo' face?
  • 267.  
    Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me
    An' jes' gits me out o' hitch,Twell I want to tek my coat off,
  • 268.  
    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,
  • 269.  
    The poor man went to the rich man's doors,
    “I come as Lazarus came,” he said.The rich man turned with humble head,-
  • 270.  
    Dear heart, good-night!
    Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing When the world is all so bright,
  • 271.  
    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.
  • 272.  
    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,
  • 273.  
    Who say my hea't ain't true to you?
    Dey bettah heish dey mouf.I knows I loves you thoo an' thoo
  • 274.  
    Eight of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet
    Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet;My haht's a-achin' ha'd an' so',
  • 275.  
    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,
  • 276.  
    I am no priest of crooks nor creeds,
    For human wants and human needsAre more to me than prophets' deeds;
  • 277.  
    Will I have some mo' dat pie?
    No, ma'am, thank-ee, dat is-I- Bettah quit daihin' me.
  • 278.  
    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
  • 279.  
    When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes
    The light dies out; my soul repliesWith misery of deep-drawn breath,
  • 280.  
    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,
  • 281.  
    When you and I were young, the days
    Were filled with scent of pink and rose, And full of joy from dawn till close,
  • 282.  
    When labor is light and the morning is fair,
    I find it a pleasure beyond all compareTo hitch up my nag and go hurrying down
  • 283.  
    What if the wind do howl without,
    And turn the creaking weather-vane;What if the arrows of the rain
  • 284.  
    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,
  • 285.  
    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,
  • 286.  
    Your spoken words are roses fine and sweet,
    The songs you sing are perfect pearls of sound.How lavish nature is about your feet,
  • 287.  
    Ain't it nice to have a mammy
    W'en you kin' o' tiahed outWid a-playin' in de meddah,
  • 288.  
    She gave a rose,
    And I kissed it and pressed it.I love her, she knows,
  • 289.  
    She told her beads with down-cast eyes,
    Within the ancient chapel dim; And ever as her fingers slim
  • 290.  
    ‘T is better to sit here beside the sea,
    Here on the spray-kissed beach,In silence, that between such friends as we
  • 291.  
    Slow moves the pageant of a climbing race;
    Their footsteps drag far, far below the height, And, unprevailing by their utmost might,
  • 292.  
    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'.
  • 293.  
    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,
  • 294.  
    Wintah, summah, snow er shine,
    Hit's all de same to me,Ef only I kin call you mine,
  • 295.  
    Dis is gospel weathah sho'-
    Hills is sawt o' hazy.Meddahs level ez a flo'
  • 296.  
    Emblem of blasted hope and lost desire,
    No finger ever traced thy yellow page Save Time's. Thou hast not wrought to noble rage
  • 297.  
    Dey been speakin' at de cou't-house,
    An' laws-a-massy me,‘T was de beatness kin' o' doin's
  • 298.  
    Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk,
    Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,
  • 299.  
    Grass commence a-comin'
    Thoo de thawin' groun',Evah bird dat whistles
  • 300.  
    A blue-bell springs upon the ledge,
    A lark sits singing in the hedge;Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air,
Total 513 poems written by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Poem of the day

Blue And White
 by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

BLUE is Our Lady—s colour,
White is Our Lord—s.
To-morrow I will wear a knot
Of blue and white cords,
That you may see it, where you ride
Among the flashing swords.

O banner, white and sunny blue,
...

Read complete poem

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