The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Paul Laurence Dunbar

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СКАЧАТЬ held her weal all other ends above.

      When Bondage held her bleeding in the dust,

      He raised her up and whispered, “Hope and Trust.”

      For her his voice, a fearless clarion, rung

      That broke in warning on the ears of men;

      For her the strong bow of his power he strung,

      And sent his arrows to the very den

      Where grim Oppression held his bloody place

      And gloated o’er the mis’ries of a race.

      And he was no soft-tongued apologist;

      He spoke straightforward, fearlessly uncowed;

      The sunlight of his truth dispelled the mist,

      And set in bold relief each dark hued cloud;

      To sin and crime he gave their proper hue,

      And hurled at evil what was evil’s due.

      Through good and ill report he cleaved his way.

      Right onward, with his face set toward the heights,

      Nor feared to face the foeman’s dread array,—

      -

      The lash of scorn, the sting of petty spites.

      He dared the lightning in the lightning’s track,

      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;

      ‘T was for his race, not for himself he spoke.

      He knew the import of his Master’s call,

      And felt himself too mighty to be small.

      No miser in the good he held was he,—

      His kindness followed his horizon’s rim.

      His heart, his talents, and his hands were free

      To all who truly needed aught of him.

      Where poverty and ignorance were rife,

      He gave his bounty as he gave his life.

      The place and cause that first aroused his might

      Still proved its power until his latest day.

      In Freedom’s lists and for the aid of Right

      Still in the foremost rank he waged the fray;

      Wrong lived; his occupation was not gone.

      He died in action with his armor on!

      We weep for him, but we have touched his hand,

      And felt the magic of his presence nigh,

      The current that he sent throughout the land,

      The kindling spirit of his battle-cry.

      O’er all that holds us we shall triumph yet,

      And place our banner where his hopes were set!

      Oh, Douglass, thou hast passed beyond the shore,

      But still thy voice is ringing o’er the gale!

      Thou ‘st taught thy race how high her hopes may soar,

      And bade her seek the heights, nor faint, nor fail.

      She will not fail, she heeds thy stirring cry,

      She knows thy guardian spirit will be nigh,

      And, rising from beneath the chast’ning rod,

      She stretches out her bleeding hands to God!

      LIFE

      A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,

      A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,

      A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,

      And never a laugh but the moans come double;

      And that is life!

      A crust and a corner that love makes precious,

      With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;

      And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,

      And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;

      And that is life!

      THE LESSON

      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

      A mocking-bird’s passionate song.

      And I thought of myself so sad and lone,

      And my life’s cold winter that knew no spring;

      Of my mind so weary and sick and wild,

      Of my heart too sad to sing.

      But e’en as I listened the mock-bird’s song,

      A thought stole into my saddened heart,

      And I said, “I can cheer some other soul

      By a carol’s simple art.”

      For oft from the darkness of hearts and lives

      Come songs that brim with joy and light,

      As out of the gloom of the cypress grove

      The mocking-bird sings at night.

      So I sang a lay for a brother’s ear

      In a strain to soothe his bleeding heart,

      And he smiled at the sound of my voice and lyre,

      Though mine was a feeble art.

      But at his smile I smiled in turn,

      And into my СКАЧАТЬ