Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow

Front matter

Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow

Lyrics ofSunshine and Shadow

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

Contents

CONTENTS

A Boy's Summer Song

A BOY'S SUMMER SONG

'TIS fine to play In the fragrant hay, And romp on the golden load; To ride old Jack To the barn and back, Or tramp by a shady road. To pause and drink, At a mossy brink; Ah, that is the best of joy, And so I say On a summer's day, What's so fine as being a boy? Ha, Ha!

With line and hook By a babbling brook The fisherman's sport we ply; And list the song Of the feathered throng That flit in the branches nigh.

At last we strip For a quiet dip; Ah, that is the best of joy. For this I say On a summer's day, What's so fine as being a boy? Ha, Ha!

The Sand-Man

THE SAND-MAN

I KNOW a man With face of tan, But who is ever kind; Whom girls and boys Leave games and toys Each eventide to find.

When day grows dim, They watch for him, He comes to place his claim; He wears the crown Of Dreaming-town; The sand-man is his name.

When sparkling eyes Droop sleepywise And busy lips grow dumb; When little heads Nod toward the beds, We know the sand-man's come.

Johnny Speaks

JOHNNY SPEAKS

THE sand-man he's a jolly old fellow, His face is kind and his voice is mellow, But he makes your eyelids as heavy as lead, And then you got to go off to bed; I don't think I like the sand-man.

But I've been playing this livelong day; It does make a fellow so tired to play! Oh, my, I'm a-yawning right here before ma, I'm the sleepiest fellow that ever you saw, I think I do like the sand-man.

Winter Song

WINTER SONG

OH, who would be sad tho' the sky be a-graying, And meadow and woodlands are empty and bare; For softly and merrily now there come playing, The little white birds thro' the winter-kissed air.

The squirrel's enjoying the rest of the thrifty, He munches his store in the old hollow tree; Tho' cold is the blast and the snow-flakes are drifty He fears the white flock not a whit more than we.

Chorus:

Then heigho for the flying snow! Over the whitened roads we go, With pulses that tingle, And sleigh-bells a-jingle For winter's white birds here's a cheery heigho!

A Christmas Folksong

A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG

DE win' is blow' wahmah, An hit' blowin' f'om de bay; Dey's so't o' mist a-risin' All erlong de meddah way; Dey ain't a hint o' frostin' On de groun' ner in de sky, An' dey ain't no use in hopin' Dat de snow'll 'mence to fly. It's goin' to be a green Christman, An' sad de day fu' me. I wish dis was de las' one Dat evah I should see.

Dey's dancin' in de cabin, Dey's spahkin' by de tree; But dancin' times an' spahkin' Are all done pas' fur me. Dey's feastin' in de big house, Wid all de windahs wide— Is dat de way fu' people To meet de Christmas-tide? It's goin' to be a green Christmas, No mattah what you say. Dey's us dat will remembah An' grieve de comin' day.

Dey's des a bref o' dampness A-clingin' to my cheek; De aih's been dahk an' heavy An' threatenin' fu' a week, But not wid signs o' wintah, Dough wintah'd seem so deah— De wintah's out o' season, An' Christmas eve is heah. It's goin' to be a green Christmas, An' oh, how sad de day!

Go ax de hongry chu'chya'd, An' see what hit will say.

Dey's Allen on de hillside, An' Marfy in de plain; Fu' Christmas was like springtime, An' come wid sun an' rain. Dey's Ca'line, John, an' Susie, Wid only dis one lef': An' now de curse is comin' Wid murder in hits bref. It's goin' to be a green Christmas— Des hyeah my words an' see: Befo' de smmah beckons Dey's many'll weep wid me.

The Forest Greeting

THE FOREST GREETING

GOOD hunting!—aye, good hunting, Wherever the forests call; But ever a heart beats hot with fear, And what of the birds that fall?

Good hunting!—aye, good hunting, Wherever the north winds blow; But what of the stag that calls for his mate? And what of the wounded doe?

Good hunting!—aye, good hunting, And ah! we are bold and strong; But our triumph call through the forest hall Is a brother's funeral song.

For we are brothers ever, Panther and bird and bear; Man and the weakest that fear his face, Born to the nest or lair.

Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us? Hunters and game are we; But who gave the right for me to smite? Who boasts when he smiteth me?

Good hunting!—aye, good hunting, And dim is the forest track; But the sportsman Death comes striding on: Brothers, the way is black.

The Lily of the Valley

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY

SWEETEST of the flowers a-blooming In the fragrant vernal days Is the Lily of the Valley With its soft, retiring ways.

Well, you chose this humble blossom As the nurse's emblem flower, Who grows more like her ideal Every day and every hour.

Like the Lily of the Valley In her honesty and worth, Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue In the quiet nooks of earth.

Tho' she stands erect in honor When the heart of mankind bleeds, Still she hides her own deserving In the beauty of her deeds.

In the silence of the darkness Where no eye may see and know, There her footsteps shod with mercy, And fleet kindness come and go.

Not amid the sounds of plaudits, Nor before the garish day, Does she shed her soul's sweet perfume, Does she take her gentle way.

But alike her ideal flower, With its honey-laden breath, Still her heart blooms forth its beauty In the valley shades of death.

Encouraged

ENCOURAGED

BECAUSE you love me I have much achieved, Had you despised me then I must have failed, But since I knew you trusted and believed, I could not disappoint you and so prevailed.

Diplomacy

DIPLOMACY

TELL your love where the roses blow, And the hearts of the lilies quiver, Not in the city's gleam and glow But down by a half-sunned river

Not in the crowded ball-room's glare, That would be fatal, Marie, Marie, How can she answer you then and there? So come then and stroll with me, my dear, Down where the birds call, Marie, Marie.

To J. Q.

To J. Q.

WHAT are the things that make life bright? A star gleam in the night. What hearts us for the coming fray? The dawn tints of the day. What helps to speed the weary mile? A brother's friendly smile. What turns o' gold the evening gray? A flower beside the way.

Scamp

SCAMP

AIN'T it nice to have a mammy W'en you kin' o' tiahed out Wid a-playin' in de meddah, An' a-runnin' roun' about Till hit's made you migthy hongry, An' yo' nose hit gits to know What de smell means dat's a-comin' F'om de open cabin do'? She wash yo' face, An' mek yo' place, You's hongry as a tramp; Den hit's eat you suppah right away, You sta'vin' little scamp.

W'en you's full o' braid an' bacon, An' dey ain't no mo' to eat, An' de lasses dat's a-stickin' On yo' face ta'se kin' o' sweet, Don' you t'ink hit's kin' o' pleasin' Fu' to have som'body neah Dat'll wipe yo' han's an' kiss you Fo' dey lif' you f'om yo cheah? To smile so sweet, An' wash yo' feet, An' leave 'em co'l an' damp; Den hit's come let me undress you, now You lazy little scamp.

Don' yo' eyes git awful heavy, An' yo' lip git awful slack, Ain't dey som'p'n' kin' o' weaknin' In de backbone of yo' back? Don' yo' knees feel kin' o' trimbly, An' yo' head go bobbin' roun', W'en you says yo' "Now I lay me," An' is sno'in' on de "down"?

She kiss yo' nose, She kiss yo' toes, An' den tu'n out de lamp, Den hit's creep into yo' trunnel baid, You sleepy little scamp.

Wadin' in de Crick

Wadin' in de Crick

DAYS git wa'm an' wa'mah, School gits mighty dull, Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs Mus' feel mussiful. Hookey's wrong, I know it Ain't no gent'man's trick; But de aih's a-callin', "Come on de crick."

Dah de watah's gu'glin' Ovah shiny stones, Des hit's ve'y singin' Seems to soothe yo' bones.

W'at's de use o' waitin', Go on good an' quick: Dain't no fun lak dis hyeah Wadin' ir de crick.

W'at dat jay-b'ud sayin'? Bettah shet yo' haid, Fus' t'ing dat you fin' out, You'll be layin' daid. Jay-bu'ds sich a tattlah, Des seem lak his trick Fu' to tell on folkses Wadin' in de crick.

Willer boughs a-bendin', Hidin' of de sky, Wavin' kin' o' frien'ly Ez de win' go by, Elum trees a-shinin', Dahk an' green an' thick, Seem to say, "I see yo' Wadin' in de crick,"

But de trees don' chattah, Dey des look an' sigh Lak hit's kin' o' peaceful Des a-bein' nigh, An' yo' t'ank yo' Mastah Dat dey trunks is thick W'en yo' mammy fin's you Wadin' in de crick.

Den yo' run behin' dem Lak yo' scaihed to def, Mammy come a-flyin', Mos' nigh out o' bref; But she set down gentle An' she drap huh stick,— An, fus' t'ing, dey's mammy Wadin' in de crick.

A Corn Song

A CORN SONG

ON the wide veranda white, In the purple failing light, Sits the master while the sun is lowly burning;

ppoem|start=follow|end=stanza|

And his dreamy thoughts are drowned

In the softly flowing sound

Of the corn-songs of the field hands slow returning.

{cblock} Oh, we hoe de co'n Since de ehly mo'n; Now de sinkin' sun Says de day is done.

O'er the fields with heavy tread,

Light of heart and high of head,

Though the halting steps be labored, slow, and weary;

Still the spirits brave and strong

Find a comforter in song,

And their corn-song rises ever loud and cheery.

{cblock} Oh, we hoe de co'n Since de ehly mo'n; Now de sinkin' sun Says de day is done.

ppoem|start=stanza|

To the master in his seat,

Comes the burden, full and sweet,

Of the mellow minor music growing clearer,

As the toilers raise the hymn,

Thro' the silence dusk and dim,

To the cabin's restful shelter drawing nearer.

{cblock} Oh, we hoe de co'n Since de ehly mo'n; Now de sinkin' sun Says de day is done.

And a tear is in the eye

Of the master sitting by,

As he listens to the echoes low-replying

To the music's fading calls

As it faints away and falls

Into silence, deep within the cabin dying.

{cblock} Oh, we hoe de co'n Since de ehly mo'n; Now de sinkin' sun Says de day is done.

The Plantation Child's Lullaby

THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY

WINTAH time hit comin' Stealin' thoo de night; Wake up in the mo'nin' Evah ting is white; Cabin lookin' lonesome Stannin' in de snow, Meks you kin' o' nervous, W'en de win' hit blow.

Trompin' back from feedin', Col' an' wet an' blue, Homespun jacket ragged, Win' a-blowin' thoo. Cabin lookin' cheerful, Unnerneaf de do', Yet you kin' o' keerful W'en de win' hit blow.

Hickory log a-blazin' Light a-lookin' red, Faith o' eyes o' peepin' R'om a trun'le bed, Little feet a-patterin' Cleak across de flo'; Bettah had be keerful W'en de win' hit blow.

Suppah done an' ovah, Evah t'ing is still; Listen to de snowman Slippin' down de hill. Ashes on de fiah, Keep it wa'm but low. What's de use o' keerin' Ef de win' do blow?

Smoke house full o' bacon, Brown an' sweet an' good; Taters in de cellah. 'Possum roam de wood;

Little baby snoozin' Des ez ef he know. What's de use o' keerin' Ef de win' do blow?

Curiosity

CURIOSITY

MAMMY'S in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet; All de pickaninnies climb an' tug an' sweat, Gittin' to de winder, stickin' dah lak flies, Evah one ermong us des all nose an' eyes.

"Whut's she cookin', Isaac?" "Whut's she cookin', Jake?" "Is it sweet pertaters? Is hit pie er cake?" But we couldn't mek out even whah we stood Whut was mammy cookin' dat could smell so good.

Mammy spread de winder, an' she frown an' frown. How de pickaninnies come a-tumblin ' down! Den she say: "Ef you-all keeps a-peepin' in, How I'se gwine to whup you, my! 't 'ill be a sin! Need n' come a-sniffin' an' a-nosin' hyeah, 'Ca'se I knows my business, nevah feah." Won't somebody tell us—how I wish dey would!— Whut is mammy cookin' dat it smells so good?

We know she means business, an' we dassent stay, Dough it's mighty tryin' fuh to go erway;

But we goes a-troopin' down de ol' wood-track Twell dat steamin' kitchen brings us stealin' back, Climbin' an' a-peepin' so's to see inside. Whut on earf kin mammy be so sha'p to hide? I'd des up an' tell folks w'en I knowed I could, Ef I was a-cookin' t'ings dat smelt so good.

Mammy in de oven, an' I see huh smile; Moufs mus' be a-wat'rin' roun' hyeah fuh a mile; Den we almos' hollah cz we hu'ies down, 'Ca'se hit's apple dumplin's, big an' fat an' brown! W'en de do' is opened, solemn lak an' slow, Wisht you see us settin' all dah in a row Innercent an' p'opah, des lak chillun should W'en dey mammy's cookin' t'ings dat smell so good.

Twilight

TWILIGHT

'TWIXT a smile and a tear, 'Twixt a song and a sigh, 'Twixt the day and the dark, When the night draweth nigh.

Ah, sunshine may fade From the heavens above, No twilight have we To the day of our love.

Opportunity

OPPORTUNITY

GRANNY'S gone a-visitin', Seen huh git huh shawl W'en I was a-hidin' down Hime de gyahden wall. Seen huh put her bonnet on, Seen huh tie de strings, An' I'se gone to dreamin' now 'Bout dem cakes an' t'ings.

On de she'f behime de do'— Mussy, what a feas'! Soon ez she gits out o' sight, I kin eat in peace. I bin watchin' fu' a week Des fu' dis hyeah chance. Mussy, w'en I gits in daih, I'll des sholy dance.

Lemon pie an' gingah-cake, Let me set an' t'ink— Vinegah an' sugah, too, Dat 'll mek a drink; Ef dey's one t'ing dat I loves Mos' pu'ticlahly, It is eatin' sweet t'ings an' A-drinkin' Sangaree.

Lawdy, won' po' granny raih W'en she see de she'f; W'en I t'ink erbout huh face, I's mos' 'shamed myse'f. Well, she gone, an' hyeah I is, Back behime de do'— Look hyeah! gran' 's done 'spected me, Dain't no sweets no mo'.

Evah sweet is hid erway. Job des done up brown; Pusson t'ink dat sometun t'ought Dey was t'eves erroun'; Dat des breaks my heart in two, Oh how bad I feel!

Des to t'ink my own gramma B'lieved dat I 'u'd steal!

Puttin' the Baby Away

PUTTIN' THE BABY AWAY

EIGHT of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet; My haht's a-achin' ha'd an' so', De way hit nevah ached befo'; My soul's a-pleadin', "Lawd give back Dis little lonesome baby black, Dis one, dis las' po' he'pless one Whose little race was too soon run."

Po' Little Jim, des fo' yeahs' ol' A-layin' down so still an' col'. Somehow hit don' seem ha'dly faih, To have my baby lyin' daih Wi'dout a smile upon his face, Wi'dout a look erbout de place; He ust to be so full o' fun Hit don' seem right dat all's done, done.

Des eight in all but I don' caih, Dey wa'nt a single one to spaih; De worl' was big, so was hy haht, An' dis hyeah baby owned hit's paht; De house was po', dey clothes was rough, But daih was meat an' meal enough; An' daih was room fu' little Jim; Oh! Lawd, what made you call fu' him?

It do seem monst'ous ha'd to-day, To lay dis baby boy away; I'd learned to love his teasin' smile, He mought o' des been lef' erwhile; You wouldn't t'ought wid all de folks, Dat's roun' hyeah mixin' teahs an' jokes, De Lawd u'd had de time to see Dis chile an' tek him 'way f'om me.

But let it go, I reckon Jim, 'll des go right straight up to Him Dat took him f'om his mammy's nest An' lef' dis achin' in my breas', An' lookin' in dat fathah's face An' 'memberin' dis lone sorrerin' place,

He'll say, "Good Lawd, you ought to had Do sumpin' fu' to comfo't dad!"

The Fisher Child's Lullaby

THE FISHER CHILD'S LULLABY

THE wind is out in its rage to-night, And your father is far at sea. The rime on the window is hard and white But dear, you are near to me. Heave ho, weave low, Waves of the briny deep; See the low and breathe low, But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.

The little boat rocks in the cove no more, But the flying sea-gulls wail; I peer through the darkness that wraps the shore, For sight of a home set sail. Heave ho, weave low,

Waves of the briny deep; Seethe low and breathe low, But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.

Ay, lad of mine, thy father may die In the gale that rides the sea, But we'll not believe it, not you and I, Who mind us of Galilee. Heave ho, weave low, Waves of the briny deep; Seethe low and breathe low, But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.

Faith

FAITH

I'S a-gittin' weary of de way dat people do, De folks dat's got dey 'ligion in dey fiah-place an' flue; Dey's allus somep'n comin' so de spit'll have to turn,

An' hit tain't no p'oposition fu' to mek de hickory bu'n. Ef de sweet pertater fails us an' de go'geous yallah yam, We kin tek a bit o' comfo't f'om ouah sto' o' summah jam. W'en de snow hit git to flyin', dat's de Mastah's own desiah, De Lawd'll run de wintah an' yo' mammy'll run de fiah.

I ain' skeered because de win' hit staht to raih and blow, I ain't bothahed w'en he come er rattlin' at de do', Let him taih hisse'f an' shout, let him blow an' bawl, Dat's de time de branches shek an' bresh-wood 'mence to fall. W'en de sto'm er railin' an' de shettahs blowin' 'bout, Dat de time de fiah-place crack hits welcome out.

Tain' my livin' business fu' to trouble ner enquiah, De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.

Ash-cake allus gits ez brown w'en February's hyeah Ez it does in bakin' any othah time o' yeah. De bacon smell ez callin'-like, de kittle rock an' sing, De same way in de wintah dat dey do it in de spring; Dey ain't no use in mopin' 'round an' lookin' mad an' glum Erbout de wintah season, fu' hit's des plumb boun' to come;

An' ef it comes to runnin' t'ings I's willin' to retiah, De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.

The Farm Child's Lullaby

THE FARM CHILD'S LULLABY

OH, the little bird is rocking in the cradle of the wind, And it's bye, my little wee one, bye; The harvest all is gathered and the pippins all are binned; Bye, my little wee one, bye; The little rabbit's hiding in the golden shock of corn, The thrifty squirrel's laughing bunny's idleness to scorn; You are smiling with the angels in your slumber, smile till morn: So it's bye, my little wee one, bye.

There'll be plenty in the cellar, there'll be plenty on the shelf; Bye, my little wee one, bye; There'll be goodly store of sweetings for a dainty little elf; Bye, my little wee one, bye.

The snow may be a-flying o'er the meadow and the hill, The ice has checked the chatter of the little laughing rill, But in your cosey cradle you are warm and happy still; So bye, my little wee one, bye.

Why, the Bob White thinks the snowflake is a brother to his song; Bye, my little wee one, bye; And the chimney sings the sweeter when the wind is blowing strong; Bye, my little wee one, bye; The granary's overflowing, full is cellar, crib, and bin, The wood has paid its tribute and the ax has ceased its din; The winter may not harm you when you're sheltered safe within; So bye, my little wee one, bye.

The Place Where the Rainbow Ends

THE PLACE WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS

THERE'S a fabulous story Full of splendor and glory, That Arabian legends transcends; Of the wealth without measure, The coffers of treasure, At the place where the rainbow ends.

Oh, many have sought it, And all would have bought it, With the blood we so recklessly spend; But none has uncovered, The gold, nor discovered The spot at the rainbow's end.

They have sought it in battle, And e'en where the rattle Of dice with man's blasphemy blends;

But howe'er persuasive, It still proves evasive, This place where the rainbow ends.

I own for my pleasure, I yearn not for treasure, Though gold has a power it lends; And I have a notion, To find without motion, The place where the rainbow ends.

The pot may hold pottage, The place be a cottage, That a humble contentment defends, Only joy fills its coffer, But spite of the scoffer, There's the place where the rainbow ends.

Where care shall be quiet, And love shall run riot, And I shall find wealth in my friends;

Then truce to the story, Of riches and glory; There's the place where the rainbow ends

Hope

HOPE

DE dog go howlin' 'long de road, De night come shiverin' down; My back is tiahed of its load, I cain't be fu' f'om town. No mattah ef de way is long, My haht is swellin' wid a song. No mattah 'bout de frownin' skies, I'll soon be home to see my Lize.

My shadder staggah on de way, It's monstous col' to-night; But I kin hyeah my honey say "W'y bless me if de sight

O' you ain't good fu' my so' eyes." (Dat talk's dis lak my lady Lize) I's so'y case de way was long But Lawd you bring me love an' song.

No mattah ef de way is long, An' ef I trimbles so' I knows de fiah's burnin' strong, Behime my Lizy's do'. An' daih my res' an' joy shell be, Whaih my of' wife's awaitin' me— Why what I keer fu' stingin' blas', I see huh windah light at las'.

Appreciation

APPRECIATION

MY muvver's ist the nicest one 'At ever lived wiz folks: She lets you have ze mostes' fun, An' laffs at all your jokes.

I got a ol' maid auntie, too, The worst you ever saw; Her eyes ist bore you through and through,— She ain't a bit like ma.

She's ist as slim as slim can be, An' when you want to slide Down on ze balusters, w'y she Says 'at she's harrified.

She ain't as nice as Uncle Ben, What says 'at little boys Won't never grow to be big men Unless they're fond of noise.

But muvver's nicer zan 'em all, She calls you, "precious lamb," An' let's you roll your ten-pin ball, An' spreads your bread wiz jam.

An' when you're bad, she ist looks sad, You fink she's goin' to cry; An' when she don't you're awful glad, An' den you're good, Oh, my!

At night, she takes ze softest hand, An' lays it on your head, An' says "Be off to Sleepy-Land By way o' trundle-bed."

So when you fink what muvver knows An' aunts an uncle tan't, It skeers a feller; ist suppose His muvver 'd been a aunt.

The Barrier

THE BARRIER

THE Midnight wooed the Morning Star, And prayed her: "Love come nearer; Your swinging coldly there afar To me but makes you dearer."

The Morning Star was pale with dole As said she, low replying: "Oh, lover mine, soul of my soul, For you I too am sighing."

"But One ordained when we were born, In spite of love's insistence, That night might only view the Morn Adoring at a distance."

But as she spoke, the jealous Sun Across the heavens panted; "Oh, whining fools," he cried, "have done, Your wishes shall be granted."

He hurled his flaming lances far; The twain stood unaffrighted, And Midnight and the Morning Star Lay down in death united.

Day

DAY

THE gray dawn on the mountain top Is slow to pass away. Still lays him by in sluggish dreams, The golden God of day.

And then a light along the hills, Your laughter silvery gay; The Sun God wakes, a bluebird trills, You come and it is day.

To Dan

TO DAN

STEP me now a bridal measure, Work give way to love and leisure, Hearts be free and hearts be gay— Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.

Diagnosis, cease your squalling— Check that scalpel's senseless bawling, Put that ugly knife away— Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.

'Tis no time for things unsightly, Life's the day and life goes lightly; Science lays aside her sway— Love rules Dr. Dan to-day.

Gather, gentlemen and ladies, For the nuptial feast now made is,

Swing your garlands, chant your lay For the pair who wed to-day.

Wish them happy days and many, Troubles few and griefs not any, Lift your brimming cups and say God bless them who wed to-day.

Then a cup to Cupid daring, Who for conquest ever faring, With his arrows dares assail E'en a doctor's coat of mail.

So with blithe and happy hymning And with harmless goblets brimming, Dance a step—musicians play— Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.

What's the Use

WHAT'S THE USE

WHAT'S the use o' folks a-frownin' When the way's a little rough?

Frowns lay out the road fur smilin' You'll be wrinkled soon enough. What's the use?

What's the use o' folks a-sighin'? It's an awful waste o' breath, An' a body can't stand wastin' What he needs so bad in death, What's the use?

What's the use o' even weepin'? Might as well go long an' smile. Life, our longest, strongest arrow, Only lasts a little while. What's the use?

A Lazy Day

A LAZY DAY

THE trees bend down along the stream, Where anchored swings my tiny boat. The day is one to drowse and dream And list the thrush's throttling note. When music from his bosom bleeds Among the river's rustling reeds.

No ripple stirs the placid pool, When my adventurous line is cast, A truce to sport, while clear and cool, The mirrored clouds slide softly past. The sky gives back a blue divine, And all the world's wide wealth is mine.

A pickerel leaps, a bow of light, The minnows shine from side to side. The first faint breeze comes up the tide— I pause with half uplifted oar, While night drifts down to claim the shore.

Advice

ADVICE

W'EN you full o' worry 'Bout yo' wo'k an' sich, W'en you kind o' bothered Case you can't get rich, An' yo' neighboh p'ospah Past his jest desu'ts, An' de sneer of comerds Stuhes yo' heaht an' hu'ts,

Des don' pet yo' worries, Lay 'em on de she'f, Tek a little trouble Brothah, wid yo'se'f.

Ef a frien' comes mou'nin' 'Bout his awful case, You know you don' grieve him Wid a gloomy face, But you wrassle wid him, Try to tek him in; Dough hit cracks yo' features, Law, you smile lak sin, Ain't you good ez he is? Don' you pine to def; Tek a little trouble Brothah, wid yo'se'f.

Ef de chillun pestahs, An' de baby's bad, Ef yo' wife gits narvous, An' you're gettin' mad,

Des you grab yo' boot-strops, Hol' yo' body down, Stop a-tinkin' cuss-w'rds, Chase away de frown, Knock de haid o' worry, Twell dey ain' none lef'; Tek a little trouble, Brothah, wid yo'se'f.

Limitations

LIMITATIONS

EF you's only got de powah fe' to blow a little whistle, Keep ermong de people wid de whistles. Ef you don't, you'll fin' out sho'tly dat you's th'owed yo' fines' feelin' In a place dat's all a bed o' thistles. 'Tain't no use a-goin' now, ez sho's you bo'n, A-squeakin' of yo' whistle 'g'inst a gread big ho'n.

Ef you ain't got but a teenchy bit o' victuals on de table, Whuť de use a-claimin' hit's a feas'?

Fe' de folks is mighty 'spicious, an' dey's ap' to come a-peerin', Lookin' fe' de scraps you lef at leas'. W'en de meal's a-hidin' f'om de meal-bin's top, You needn't talk to hide it; ef you sta'ts, des stop.

Ef yo' min' kin only carry half a pint o' common idees, Don' go roun' a-sayin' hit's a bar'l; 'Ca'se de people gwine to test you, an' dey'll fin' out you's a-lyin', Den dey'll twis' yo' sayin's in a snarl. Wuss t'ing in de country dat I evah hyahed— A crow dot sat a-squawkin', "I's a mockin'-bird."

A Golden Day

A GOLDEN DAY

I FOUND you and I lost you, All on a gleaming day. The day was filled with sunshine, And the land was full of May.

A golden bird was singing Its melody divine, I found you and I loved you, And all the world was mine.

I found you and I lost you, All on a golden day, But when I dream of you, dear, It is always brimming May.

The Unlucky Apple

THE UNLUCKY APPLE

'TWAS the apple that in Eden Caused our father's primal fall; And the Trojan War, remember— 'Twas an apple caused it all. So for weeks I've hesitated, You can guess the reason why, For I want to tell my darling She's the apple of my eye.

The Discovery

THE DISCOVERY

THESE are the days of elfs and fays: Who says that with the dreams of myth, These imps and elves disport themselves? Ah no, along the paths of song Do all the tiny folk belong.