The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Paul Laurence Dunbar

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СКАЧАТЬ 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’ de ringin’ little banjo

      Plays an ol’ hea’t-feelin’ hime.

      An’ somehow my th’oat gits choky,

      An’ a lump keeps tryin’ to rise

      Lak it wan’ed to ketch de water

      Dat was flowin’ to my eyes;

      An’ I feel dat I could sorter

      Knock de socks clean off o’ sin

      Ez I hyeah my po’ ol’ granny

      Wif huh tremblin’ voice jine in.

      Den we all th’ow in our voices

      Fu’ to he’p de chune out too,

      Lak a big camp-meetin’ choiry

      Tryin’ to sing a mou’nah th’oo.

      An’ our th’oahts let out de music,

      Sweet an’ solemn, loud an’ free,

      ‘Twell de raftahs o’ my cabin

      Echo wif de melody.

      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.

      Now, de blessed little angels

      Up in heaben, we are told,

      Don’t do nothin’ all dere lifetime

      ‘Ceptin’ play on ha’ps o’ gold.

      Now I think heaben ‘d be mo’ homelike

      Ef we ‘d hyeah some music fall

      F’om a real ol’-fashioned banjo,

      Like dat one upon de wall.

      LONGING

      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.

      If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day,

      And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old,

      I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray,

      Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.

      If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day,

      And tell me that my longing love had won your own,

      I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away,

      And I could give back laughter for the Ocean’s moan!

      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.

      Smooth is the way to ease and calm delight,

      And soft the road Sloth chooseth for her own;

      But he who craves the flower of life full-blown,

      Must struggle up in all his armor dight!

      What though the burden bear him sorely down

      And crush to dust the mountain of his pride,

      Oh, then, with strong heart let him still abide;

      For rugged is the roadway to renown,

      Nor may he hope to gain the envied crown,

      Till he hath thrust the looming rocks aside.

      THE LAWYERS’ WAYS

      I ‘ve been list’nin’ to them lawyers

      In the court house up the street,

      An’ I ‘ve come to the conclusion

      That I’m most completely beat.

      Fust one feller riz to argy,

      An’ he boldly waded in

      As he dressed the tremblin’ pris’ner

      In a coat o’ deep-dyed sin.

      Why, he painted him all over

      In a hue o’ blackest crime,

      An’ he smeared his reputation

      With the thickest kind o’ grime,

      Tell I found myself a-wond’rin’,

      In a misty way and dim,

      How the Lord had come to fashion

      Sich an awful man as him.

      Then the other lawyer started,

      An’ with brimmin’, tearful eyes,

      Said his client was a martyr

      That was brought to sacrifice.

      An’ he give to that same pris’ner

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