The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar - Paul Laurence Dunbar

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      Tho’ oft thro’ silence infinite I list,

      And strain my hearing to supernal sounds;

      Tho’ oft thro’ fateful darkness do I reach,

      And stretch my hand to find that other hand.

      I question of th’ eternal bending skies

      That seem to neighbor with the novice earth;

      But they roll on, and daily shut their eyes

      On me, as I one day shall do on them,

      And tell me not the secret that I ask.

      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.

      ‘Tis they whose backs have felt the rod,

      Whose feet have pressed the path unshod,

      May smile upon defeated care,

      Not they who soar.

      High up there are no thorns to prod,

      Nor boulders lurking ‘neath the clod

      To turn the keenness of the share,

      For flight is ever free and rare;

      But heroes they the soil who ‘ve trod,

      Not they who soar!

      WHITTIER

      Not o’er thy dust let there be spent

      The gush of maudlin sentiment;

      Such drift as that is not for thee,

      Whose life and deeds and songs agree,

      Sublime in their simplicity.

      Nor shall the sorrowing tear be shed.

      O singer sweet, thou art not dead!

      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;

      So shalt thou live for evermore—

      Though far thy form from mortal ken—

      Deep in the hearts and minds of men.

      TWO SONGS

      A bee that was searching for sweets one day

      Through the gate of a rose garden happened to stray.

      In the heart of a rose he hid away,

      And forgot in his bliss the light of day,

      As sipping his honey he buzzed in song;

      Though day was waning, he lingered long,

      For the rose was sweet, so sweet.

      A robin sits pluming his ruddy breast,

      And a madrigal sings to his love in her nest:

      “Oh, the skies they are blue, the fields are green,

      And the birds in your nest will soon be seen!”

      She hangs on his words with a thrill of love,

      And chirps to him as he sits above

      For the song is sweet, so sweet.

      A maiden was out on a summer’s day

      With the winds and the waves and the flowers at play;

      And she met with a youth of gentle air,

      With the light of the sunshine on his hair.

      Together they wandered the flowers among;

      They loved, and loving they lingered long,

      For to love is sweet, so sweet.

      –

      Bird of my lady’s bower,

      Sing her a song;

      Tell her that every hour,

      All the day long,

      Thoughts of her come to me,

      Filling my brain

      With the warm ecstasy

      Of love’s refrain.

      Little bird! happy bird!

      Being so near,

      Where e’en her slightest word

      Thou mayest hear,

      Seeing her glancing eyes,

      Sheen of her hair,

      Thou art in paradise,—

       Would I were there.

      I am so far away,

      Thou art so near;

      Plead with her, birdling gay,

      Plead with my dear.

      Rich be thy recompense,

      Fine be thy fee,

      If through thine eloquence

      She hearken me.

      A BANJO SONG

      Oh, dere ‘s lots o’ keer an’ trouble

      In dis world to swaller down;

      An’ ol’ Sorrer ‘s purty lively

      In her way o’ gittin’ roun’.

      Yet dere’s times when I furgit em,—

      Aches an’ pains an’ troubles all,—

      An’ it’s when I tek at ebenin’

      My ol’ banjo f’om de wall.

      ‘Bout de time dat night is fallin’

      An’ my daily wu’k is done,

      An’ above de shady hilltops

      I kin see de settin’ sun;

      When de quiet, restful shadders

      Is beginnin’ jes’ to fall,—

      Den I take de little banjo

      F’om its place upon de wall.

      Den my fam’ly gadders roun’ me

      In de fadin’ o’ de light,

      Ez I strike de strings to try ‘em

      Ef dey all is tuned er-right.

      An’ it seems we ‘re so nigh heaben

      We kin hyeah de angels sing

      When de music o’ dat banjo

      Sets my cabin all er-ring.

      An’ my wife an’ all de othahs,—

      Male an’ female, small an’ big,—

      Even up to gray-haired granny,

      Seem jes’ boun’ to do a jig;

      ‘Twell I change de style o’ music,

      Change de movement an’ de time,

      An’

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