Paul Laurence Dunbar

“ THE CORN-STALK FIDDLE.
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,
⁠And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;
Then it 's heigho! fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,
For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle. ”

“ If a prophet is often without honor in his own country, it surely is nothing against him when he has it. In this case it deprived me of the glory of a discoverer; but that is sometimes a barren joy, and I am always willing to forego it.
What struck me in reading Mr. Dunbar's poetry was what had already struck his friends in Ohio and Indiana, in Kentucky and Illinois. They had felt, as I felt, that however gifted his race had proven itself in music, in oratory, in several of the other arts, here was the first instance of an American negro who had evinced innate distinction in literature. ”

“ For her o'er whom we spread the pall;
But faith, sweet faith, is over all.
The house is dust, the voice is dumb,
But through undying years to come,
The spark that glowed within her soul
Shall light our footsteps to the goal. ”

“ And clasps the shadows to its breast;
The crescent moon shines dim on high;
And in the lately radiant west
The gold is fading into gray.
Now stills the lark his festive lay,
And mourns with me the dying day. ”

“ Softly and sweetly the sky overarches,
⁠Sheltering a land where Rebellion is dumb.
Dark were the days of the country's derangement,
⁠Sad were the hours when the conflict was on,
But through the gloom of fraternal estrangement
⁠God sent his light, and we welcome the dawn. ”

“ NOT THEY WHO SOAR.
NOT they who soar, but they who plod
⁠Their rugged way, unhelped, to God
Are heroes; they who higher fare,
And, flying, fan the upper air,
Miss all the toil that hugs the sod. ”

“ In spite of time's malignant chill,
With living fire thy songs shall thrill,
And men shall say, "He liveth still!"
Great poets never die, for Earth
Doth count their lives of too great worth
To lose them from her treasured store ”

“ Nor chart nor steel to guide my steps aright.
Whene'er, o'ercoming fear, I dare to move,
I grope without direction and by chance.
Some feign to hear a voice and feel a hand
That draws them ever upward thro' the gloom. ”

“ I cannot undertake to prophesy concerning this; but if he should do nothing more than he has done, I should feel that he had made the strongest claim for the negro in English literature that the negro has yet made. He has at least produced something that, however we may critically disagree about it, we cannot well refuse to enjoy; in more than one piece he has produced a work of art. ”

“ And moans astir o'er field and dell,
⁠Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd,—
⁠I care not who first taught 'em;
There's nothing known to beast or bird
⁠To make a solemn autumn. ”

“ I think I should scarcely trouble the reader with a special appeal in behalf of this book, if it had not specially appealed to me for reasons apart from the author's race, origin, and condition. The world is too old now, and I find myself too much of its mood, to care for the work of a poet because he is black, because his father and mother were slaves, because he was, before and after he began to write poems, an elevator-boy. ”

“ IF you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er;
I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray,
And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore. ”

“ And answered thunder with his thunder back.
When men maligned him, and their torrent wrath
In furious imprecations o'er him broke,
He kept his counsel as he kept his path;
'Twas for his race, not for himself, he spoke. ”

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THE PATH.
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,
And press his own way forward in the fight. ”

“ Proud Ethiope's swarthy children stand
⁠Beside their fairer neighbor;
The forests flee before their stroke,
Their hammers ring, their forges smoke,—
⁠They stir in honest labour.
They tread the fields where honour calls ”

“ Then I own 'at I was puzzled
⁠How sich things could rightly be;
An' this aggervatin' question
⁠Seems to keep a-puzzlin' me.
So, will some one please inform me,
⁠An' this mystery unroll—
How an angel an' a devil
⁠Can persess the self-same soul? ”

“ He 's a fiddlah, now I tell you, an' he made dat fiddle ring,
'Twell de ol'est an' de lamest had to give deir feet a fling.
Jigs, cotillions, reels an' break-downs, cordrills an' a waltz er two;
Bless yo' soul, dat music winged 'em an' dem people lak to flew. ”

“ Oh, de music o' de banjo,
⁠Quick an' deb'lish, solemn, slow,
Is de greates' joy an' solace
⁠Dat a weary slave kin know!
So jes' let me hyeah it ringin',
⁠Dough de chune be po' an' rough,
It 's a pleasure; an' de pleasures
⁠O' dis life is few enough. ”

“ Den dey 's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you 's got to break de line;
Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';
Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,
Broke de line, an' lit head-fo'most in de fiahplace right plump;
Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I 'd bust,
Tried my best to keep fom laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!
Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime. ”

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WHEN DE CO'N PONE'S HOT.
DEY is times in life when Nature
⁠Seems to slip a cog an' go,
Jes' a-rattlin' down creation,
⁠Lak an ocean's overflow;
When de worl' jes' stahts a-spinnin'
⁠Lak a picaninny's top,
An' yo' cup o' joy is brimmin'
⁠'Twell it seems about to slop,
An' you feel jes' lak a racah,
⁠Dat is trainin' fu' to trot—
When yo' mammy says de blessin'
⁠An' de co'n pone 's hot.
When you set down at de table,
⁠Kin' o' weary lak an' sad,
An' you 'se jes' a little tiahed
⁠An' purhaps a little mad ”

“ But I 'll not forget our courtin'
'Neath the old apple-tree.
Life for us ain't all been summer,
But I guess we 've had our share
Of its flittin' joys an' pleasures,
An' a sprinklin' of its care.
Oft the skies have smiled upon us ”

“ An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
Tho' it ought n't to cause me no su'prise,
Fur there 's many a sun 'at you've seen rise
An' many a one you've seen go down
Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
An' storms an' snows have had their way—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray. ”

“ It is something that one feels in nearly all the dialect pieces; and I hope that in the present collection he has kept all of these in his earlier volume, and added others to them. But the contents of this book are wholly of his own choosing, and I do not know how much or little he may have preferred the poems in literary English. ”

“ 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,
Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum. ”

“ You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's
⁠Fu' to make it sweet an' light.
Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
⁠An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,
When hit comes to raal right singin',
⁠'T ain't no easy thing to do. ”

“ Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!
I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.
Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know? ”

“ Fu' I 'll empty down on Egypt
⁠All de vials of my powah."
Yes, he did—an' Pher'oh's ahmy
⁠Was n't wuth a ha'f a dime;
Fu' de Lawd will he'p his chillun,
⁠You kin trust him evah time.
An' yo' enemies may 'sail you
⁠In de back an' in de front ”