Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 301.  
    If 'twere fair to suppose
    That your heart were not taken,That the dew from the rose
  • 302.  
    I done got ‘uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;
    Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thing
  • 303.  
    I did not know that life could be so sweet,
    I did not know the hours could speed so fleet,Till I knew you, and life was sweet again.
  • 304.  
    The Midnight wooed the Morning-Star,
    And prayed her: “Love come nearer;Your swinging coldly there afar
  • 305.  
    Bring me the livery of no other man.
    I am my own to robe me at my pleasure. Accepted rules to me disclose no treasure:
  • 306.  
    W'en de evenin' shadders
    Come a-glidin' down,Fallin' black an' heavy
  • 307.  
    Duck come switchin' ‘cross de lot
    Hi, oh, Miss Lady!Hurry up an' hide de pot
  • 308.  
    Love used to carry a bow, you know,
    But now he carries a taper;It is either a length of wax aglow,
  • 309.  
    The change has come, and Helen sleeps-
    Not sleeps; but wakes to greater deeps Of wisdom, glory, truth, and light,
  • 310.  
    The wind told the little leaves to hurry,
    And chased them down the way,While the mother tree laughed loud in glee,
  • 311.  
    Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street,
    Don't you people stan' daih starin'; lif yo' feet! Ain't dey playin'? Hip, hooray!
  • 312.  
    If the muse were mine to tempt it
    And my feeble voice were strong,If my tongue were trained to measures,
  • 313.  
    Round the wide earth, from the red field your valour has won,
    Blown with the breath of the far-speaking gun, Goes the word.
  • 314.  
    When the corn 's all cut and the bright stalks shine
    Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,
  • 315.  
    A man of low degree was sore oppressed,
    Fate held him under iron-handed sway,And ever, those who saw him thus distressed
  • 316.  
    Heel and toe, heel and toe,
    That is the song we sing;Turn to your partner and curtsey low,
  • 317.  
    Cover him over with daisies white
    And eke with the poppies red,Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
  • 318.  
    Goo'-by, Jinks, I got to hump,
    Got to mek dis pony jump;See dat sun a-goin' down
  • 319.  
    Oh, de grubbin'-hoe 's a-rustin' in de co'nah,
    An' de plow 's a-tumblin' down in de fiel',While de whippo'will 's a-wailin' lak a mou'nah
  • 320.  
    These are the days of elfs and fays:
    Who says that with the dreams of myth,These imps and elves disport themselves?
  • 321.  
    Oh, what shall I do? I am wholly upset;
    I am sure I ‘ll be jailed for a lunatic yet.I ‘ll be out of a job-it's the thing to expect
  • 322.  
    Out of the sunshine and out of the heat,
    Out of the dust of the grimy street,A song fluttered down in the form of a dove,
  • 323.  
    Temples he built and palaces of air,
    And, with the artist's parent-pride aglow, His fancy saw his vague ideals grow
  • 324.  
    Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day;
    We even lay the book away;But oh, how sweet the moments sped
  • 325.  
    Oh, the little bird is rocking in the cradle of the wind,
    And it's bye, my little wee one, bye;The harvest all is gathered and the pippins all are binned;
  • 326.  
    The wind is out in its rage to-night,
    And your father is far at sea.The rime on the window is hard and white
  • 327.  
    Good hunting!-aye, good hunting,
    Wherever the forests call;But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
  • 328.  
    All hot and grimy from the road,
    Dust gray from arduous years,I sat me down and eased my load
  • 329.  
    Within a London garret high,
    Above the roofs and near the sky,My ill-rewarding pen I ply
  • 330.  
    In the heavy earth the miner
    Toiled and laboured day by day,Wrenching from the miser mountain
  • 331.  
    Aye, lay him in his grave, the old dead year!
    His life is lived-fulfilled his destiny.Have you for him no sad, regretful tear
  • 332.  
    Our good knight, Ted, girds his broadsword on
    (And he wields it well, I ween);He 's on his steed, and away has gone
  • 333.  
    This poem must be done to-day;
    Then, I ‘ll e'en to it.I must not dream my time away,-
  • 334.  
    Sweetest of the flowers a-blooming
    In the fragrant vernal daysIs the Lily of the Valley
  • 335.  
    Dinah stan' befo' de glass,
    Lookin' moughty neat,An' huh purty shadder sass
  • 336.  
    A lover whom duty called over the wave,
    With himself communed: “Will my love be true If left to herself? Had I better not sue
  • 337.  
    An old, worn harp that had been played
    Till all its strings were loose and frayed,Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
  • 338.  
    Oh, who is the Lord of the land of life,
    When hotly goes the fray?When, fierce we smile in the midst of strife
  • 339.  
    Though the winds be dank,
    And the sky be sober, And the grieving Day
  • 340.  
    Out in de night a sad bird moans,
    An', oh, but hit 's moughty lonely;Times I kin sing, but mos' I groans,
  • 341.  
    In this sombre garden close
    What has come and passed, who knows?What red passion, what white pain
  • 342.  
    Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother,
    Say a mass for my soul's repose, I need it,Lovingly lived we, the sons of one mother,
  • 343.  
    The smell of the sea in my nostrils,
    The sound of the sea in mine ears;The touch of the spray on my burning face,
  • 344.  
    Whut dat you whisperin' keepin' f'om me?
    Don't shut me out ‘cause I 's ol' an' can't see.Somep'n's gone wrong dat 's a-causin' you dread,-
  • 345.  
    You kin talk about yer anthems
    An' yer arias an' sich,An' yer modern choir-singin'
  • 346.  
    In de dead of night I sometimes,
    Git to t'inkin' of de pas'An' de days w'en slavery helt me
  • 347.  
    'Tis an old deserted homestead
    On the outskirts of the town,Where the roof is all moss-covered,
  • 348.  
    Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
    Was I dah? You bet! I nevah in my life see sich a sight;All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,
  • 349.  
    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,
  • 350.  
    One night in my room, still and beamless,
    With will and with thought in eclipse,I rested in sleep that was dreamless;
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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