Poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems

  • 451.  
    My lady love lives far away,
    And oh my heart is sad by day,And ah my tears fall fast by night,
  • 452.  
    Ah, love, my love is like a cry in the night,
    A long, loud cry to the empty sky,The cry of a man alone in the desert,
  • 453.  
    Oh, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal;
    Oh, my; oh, my.She's my lovely little sweetheart an' her name is Sal:
  • 454.  
    Ah, I have changed, I do not know
    Why lonely hours affect me so.In days of yore, this were not wont,
  • 455.  
    De win' is hollahin' “Daih you” to de shuttahs an' de fiah,
    De snow's a-sayin' “Got you” to de groun',Fu' de wintah weathah 's come widout a-askin' ouah desiah,
  • 456.  
    Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I ‘d write you long fo' dis,
    But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is.But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han'
  • 457.  
    The trees bend down along the stream,
    Where anchored swings my tiny boat.The day is one to drowse and dream
  • 458.  
    Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
    For oh, my steps are weak,And ever as I go,
  • 459.  
    Wen de snow 's a-fallin'
    An' de win' is col'.Mammy ‘mence a-callin',
  • 460.  
    I found you and I lost you,
    All on a gleaming day.The day was rilled with sunshine,
  • 461.  
    Swing yo' lady roun' an' roun',
    Do de bes' you know;Mek yo' bow an' p'omenade
  • 462.  
    Win' a-blowin' gentle so de san' lay low,
    San' a little heavy f'om de rain,All de pa'ms a-wavin' an' a-weavin' slow,
  • 463.  
    The air is dark, the sky is gray,
    The misty shadows come and go,And here within my dusky room
  • 464.  
    Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,
    Whah de branch ‘ll go a-singin' as it pass. An' w'en I 's a-layin' low,
  • 465.  
    On the wide veranda white,
    In the purple failing light,Sits the master while the sun is lowly burning;
  • 466.  
    Yes, my ha't 's ez ha'd ez stone-
    Go ‘way, Sam, an' lemme ‘lone.No; I ain't gwine change my min'-
  • 467.  
    Uncle John, he makes me tired;
    Thinks ‘at he's jest so all-firedSmart, ‘at he kin pick up, so,
  • 468.  
    De win' is blowin' wahmah,
    An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;Dey's a so't o' mist a-risin'
  • 469.  
    “Break me my bounds, and let me fly
    To regions vast of boundless sky;Nor I, like piteous Daphne, be
  • 470.  
    The Young Master Asks For A Story

  • 471.  
    Come, essay a sprightly measure,
    Tuned to some light song of pleasure. Maidens, let your brows be crowned
  • 472.  
    'Tis fine to play
    In the fragrant hay,And romp on the golden load;
  • 473.  
    Oh, I have n't got long to live, for we all
    Die soon, e'en those who live longest;And the poorest and weakest are taking their chance
  • 474.  
    Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' trouble
    In dis world to swaller down;An' ol' Sorrer 's purty lively
  • 475.  
    De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,
    An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;Dey has cut de bigges' hick'ry dat de mules kin tote away,
  • 476.  
    Dey is times in life when Nature
    Seems to slip a cog an' go,Jes' a-rattlin' down creation,
  • 477.  
    We wear the mask that grins and lies,
    It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,-This debt we pay to human guile;
  • 478.  
    There is a heaven, for ever, day by day,
    The upward longing of my soul doth tell me so.There is a hell, I ‘m quite as sure; for pray,
  • 479.  
    As a quiet little seedling
    Lay within its darksome bed,To itself it fell a-talking,
  • 480.  
    The lake's dark breast
    Is all unrest,It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
  • 481.  
    A song is but a little thing,
    And yet what joy it is to sing!In hours of toil it gives me zest,
  • 482.  
    I am the mother of sorrows,
    I am the ender of grief;I am the bud and the blossom,
  • 483.  
    W'en daih 's chillun in de house,
    Dey keep on a-gittin' tall;But de folks don' seem to see
  • 484.  
    There's a memory keeps a-runnin'
    Through my weary head to-night,An' I see a picture dancin'
  • 485.  
    I was not; now I am-a few days hence
    I shall not be; I fain would look beforeAnd after, but can neither do; some Power
  • 486.  
    When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes,
    And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surpriseAs you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while,
  • 487.  
    My cot was down by a cypress grove,
    And I sat by my window the whole night long,And heard well up from the deep dark wood
  • 488.  
    I ‘ve been list'nin' to them lawyers
    In the court house up the street,An' I ‘ve come to the conclusion
  • 489.  
    Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
    Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
  • 490.  
    He scribbles some in prose and verse,
    And now and then he prints it;He paints a little,-gathers some
  • 491.  
    This is the debt I pay
    Just for one riotous day,Years of regret and grief,
  • 492.  
    I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
  • 493.  
    The river sleeps beneath the sky,
    And clasps the shadows to its breast;The crescent moon shines dim on high;
  • 494.  
    The Oriole sings in the greening grove
    As if he were half-way waiting, The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
  • 495.  
    Wintah, summah, snow er shine,
    Hit's all de same to me,Ef only I kin call you mine,
  • 496.  
    My heart to thy heart,
    My hand to thine; My lip to thy lips,
  • 497.  
    Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
    Frost a-comin' in de night,Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
  • 498.  
    Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing;
    I look far out into the pregnant night,Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
  • 499.  
    “Thou art a fool,” said my head to my heart,
    “Indeed, the greatest of fools thou art, To be led astray by the trick of a tress,
  • 500.  
    I grew a rose within a garden fair,
    And, tending it with more than loving care,I thought how, with the glory of its bloom,
Total 522 poems written by Paul Laurence Dunbar

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