The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Paul Laurence Dunbar

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      THE POET AND HIS SONG

      A song is but a little thing,

      And yet what joy it is to sing!

      In hours of toil it gives me zest,

      And when at eve I long for rest;

      When cows come home along the bars,

      And in the fold I hear the bell,

      As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars,

      I sing my song, and all is well.

      There are no ears to hear my lays,

      No lips to lift a word of praise;

      But still, with faith unfaltering,

      I live and laugh and love and sing.

      What matters yon unheeding throng?

      They cannot feel my spirit’s spell,

      Since life is sweet and love is long,

      I sing my song, and all is well.

      My days are never days of ease;

      I till my ground and prune my trees.

      When ripened gold is all the plain,

      I put my sickle to the grain.

      I labor hard, and toil and sweat,

      While others dream within the dell;

      But even while my brow is wet,

      I sing my song, and all is well.

      Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot,

      My garden makes a desert spot;

      Sometimes a blight upon the tree

      Takes all my fruit away from me;

      And then with throes of bitter pain

      Rebellious passions rise and swell;

      But—life is more than fruit or grain,

      And so I sing, and all is well.