Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 351.  
    See dis pictyah in my han'?
    Dat's my gal;Ain't she purty? goodness lan'!
  • 352.  
    There's a fabulous story
    Full of splendor and glory, That Arabian legends transcends;
  • 353.  
    Wintah time hit comin'
    Stealin' thoo de night;Wake up in the mo'nin'
  • 354.  
    He sang of life, serenely sweet,
    With, now and then, a deeper note. From some high peak, nigh yet remote,
  • 355.  
    How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,-
    How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,- When a-toddling on the floor
  • 356.  
    By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,
    I have sat with you time and again;And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,
  • 357.  
    Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch,
    Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
  • 358.  
    Folks is talkin' 'bout de money, 'bout de silvah an' de gold;
    All de time de season 's changin' an' de days is gittin' cold.An' dey 's wond'rin' 'bout de metals, whethah we'll have one er two.
  • 359.  
    I have no fancy for that ancient cant
    That makes us masters of our destinies,And not our lives, to hold or give them up
  • 360.  
    ‘T was three an' thirty year ago,
    When I was ruther young, you know,I had my last an' only fight
  • 361.  
    Along by the river of ruin
    They dally-the thoughtless ones,They dance and they dream
  • 362.  
    I know a man
    With face of tan,But who is ever kind;
  • 363.  
    What says the wind to the waving trees?
    What says the wave to the river?What means the sigh in the passing breeze?
  • 364.  
    My soul, lost in the music's mist,
    Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst.The cheerless streets grew summer meads,
  • 365.  
    A little bird, with plumage brown,
    Beside my window flutters down,A moment chirps its little strain,
  • 366.  
    I never shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,
    An' all us youngsters clambered in an' down the road went bobbin'To school where we was kep' at work in every kind o' weather,
  • 367.  
    Come, drink a stirrup cup with me,
    Before we close our rouse.You ‘re all aglow with wine, I know:
  • 368.  
    A little dreaming by the way,
    A little toiling day by day;A little pain, a little strife,
  • 369.  
    De night creep down erlong de lan',
    De shadders rise an' shake,De frog is sta'tin' up his ban',
  • 370.  
    Woman's sho' a cur'ous critter, an' dey ain't no doubtin' dat.
    She's a mess o' funny capahs f'om huh slippahs to huh hat.Ef you tries to un'erstan' huh, an' you fails, des' up an' say:
  • 371.  
    'Twas the apple that in Eden
    Caused our father's primal fall;And the Trojan War, remember-
  • 372.  
    A song for the unsung heroes who rose in the country's need,
    When the life of the land was threatened by the slaver's cruel greed,For the men who came from the cornfield, who came from the plough and
  • 373.  
    When to sweet music my lady is dancing
    My heart to mild frenzy her beauty inspires.Into my face are her brown eyes a-glancing,
  • 374.  
    Underneath the autumn sky,
    Haltingly, the lines go by.Ah, would steps were blithe and gay,
  • 375.  
    Little lady at de do',
    W'y you stan' dey knockin'?Nevah seen you ac' befo'
  • 376.  
    In a small and lonely cabin out of noisy traffic's way,
    Sat an old man, bent and feeble, dusk of face, and hair of gray,And beside him on the table, battered, old, and worn as he,
  • 377.  
    Long since, in sore distress, I heard one pray,
    “Lord, who prevailest with resistless might,Ever from war and strife keep me away,
  • 378.  
    I stood by the shore at the death of day,
    As the sun sank flaming red;And the face of the waters that spread away
  • 379.  
    A youth went faring up and down,
    Alack and well-a-day.He fared him to the market town,
  • 380.  
    Ah me, it is cold and chill
    And the fire sobs low in the grate,While the wind rides by on the hill,
  • 381.  
    THEN

  • 382.  
    Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,-
    My being is attuned to thee.Thou settest all my words a-wing,
  • 383.  
    Oh the breeze is blowin' balmy
    An the sun is in a haze;There's a cloud jest givin' coolness
  • 384.  
    Summah 's nice, wif sun a-shinin',
    Spring is good wif greens and grass,An' dey 's some t'ings nice 'bout wintah,
  • 385.  
    Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,
    Would I might study to be prince of bores,Right wisely would I rule that dull estate-
  • 386.  
    It is as if a silver chord
    Were suddenly grown mute,And life's song with its rhythm warred
  • 387.  
    Thy tones are silver melted into sound,
    And as I dreamI see no walls around,
  • 388.  
    Belated wanderer of the ways of spring,
    Lost in the chill of grim November rain,Would I could read the message that you bring
  • 389.  
    This is to-day, a golden summer's day
    And yet-and yet My vengeful soul will not forget
  • 390.  
    Step me now a bridal measure,
    Work give way to love and leisure,Hearts be free and hearts be gay-
  • 391.  
    To me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath
    From some far forest which I once have known, The perfume of this flower of verse is blown.
  • 392.  
    Your presence like a benison to me
    Wakes my sick soul to dreamful ecstasy,I fancy that some old Arabian night
  • 393.  
    What are the things that make life bright?
    A star gleam in the night.What hearts us for the coming fray?
  • 394.  
    Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,
    And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze,
  • 395.  
    (Lines on reading “Driftwood.”)

  • 396.  
    I 's feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night,
    An' my min 's done los' de minutes an' de miles,Wile it teks me back a-flyin' to de country of delight,
  • 397.  
    God has his plans, and what if we
    With our sight be too blind to seeTheir full fruition; cannot he,
  • 398.  
    Kiss me, Miami, thou most constant one!
    I love thee more for that thou changest not.When Winter comes with frigid blast,
  • 399.  
    Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,
    Who 's for the road?Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,
  • 400.  
    Heart of the Southland, heed me pleading now,
    Who bearest, unashamed, upon my browThe long kiss of the loving tropic sun,
Total 513 poems written by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Poem of the day

A March Day In London
 by Amy Levy

The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.

From end to end, with aimless feet,
...

Read complete poem

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