Lyrics of the Hearthside AMS PRESS NEW YORK f/ix_-c~_X>- *- f Lyrics of the Hearthside By Paul Laurence Dunbar New York Dodd, Mead and Company 1899 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Dunbar, Paul Laurence, 1872-1906. Lyrics of the hearthside. I. Title. PS1556.L7 1972 811 . 4 70-164802 ISBN 0-404-00037-1 I Reprinted from the edition of 1899, New York First AMS edition published in 1972 Manufactured in the United States of America International Standard Book Number: 0-404-00037-1 AMS PRESS INC. NEW YORK, N.Y. 10003 TO ALICE I" r <>-? CONTENTS. PACK LOVE S APOTHEOSIS i THE PARADOX 3 OVER THE HILLS 5 WITH THE LARK . 6 IN SUMMER 8 THE MYSTIC SEA 10 A SAILOR S SONG n THE BOHEMIAN 13 ABSENCE 14 HER THOUGHT AND His 16 THE RIGHT TO DIE 17 BEHIND THE ARRAS 18 WHEN THE OLD MAN SMOKES 19 THE GARRET 22 To E. H. K 24 A BRIDAL MEASURE 25 VENGEANCE is SWEET 27 A HYMN 28 JUST WHISTLE A BIT 30 THE BARRIER 32 DREAMS 34 THE DREAMER 35 vii Contents. PACK WAITING 36 THE END OF THE CHAPTER 38 SYMPATHY 40 LOVE AND GRIEF 42 MORTALITY 43 LOVE 44 SHE GAVE ME A ROSE 45 DREAM SONG. 1 46 DREAM SONG. II 47 CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART 48 THE KING is DEAD 50 THEOLOGY 52 RESIGNATION 53 LOVE S HUMILITY 54 PRECEDENT 55 SHE TOLD HER BEADS 56 LITTLE LUCY LAN OMAN 57 THE GOURD 60 THE KNIGHT 63 THOU ART MY LUTE 64 THE PHANTOM Kiss 65 COMMUNION 67 MARE RUBRUM 70 IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN 71 THE CRISIS 72 THE CONQUERORS 74 ALEXANDER CRUMMELL DEAD 76 WHEN ALL is DONE 78 THE POET AND THE BABY 80 DISTINCTION 81 THE SUM 82 viii Contents. PAGE SONNET 83 ON THE SEA WALL 84 To A LADY PLAYING THE HARP 86 CONFESSIONAL 88 MISAPPREHENSION 90 PROMETHEUS 91 LOVE S PHASES 93 FOR THE MAN WHO FAILS 95 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 97 VAGRANTS 98 A WINTER S DAY 100 MY LITTLE MARCH GIRL 101 REMEMBERED 103 LOVE DESPOILED 105 THE LAPSE 106 THE WARRIOR S PRAYER 109 FAREWELL TO ARCADY in THE VOICE OF THE BANJO 113 THE STIRRUP CUP 116 A CHOICE 118 THEN AND Now 119 AT CHESHIRE CHEESE 121 MY CORN-COB PIPE 123 IN AUGUST 125 THE DISTURBER 127 EXPECTATION 130 LOVER S LANE 132 PROTEST 135 HYMN 137 LITTLE BROWN BABY 139 TIME TO TINKER ROUN ! 141 ix Contents. PAGE THE REAL QUESTION 143 JILTED 145 THE NEWS 147 CHRISMUS ON THE PLANTATION 149 ANGELINA 153 FOOLIN WID DE SEASONS 156 MY SORT o MAN 159 POSSUM 163 ON THE ROAD 165 A DEATH SONG 167 A BACK-LOG SONG 168 LULLABY 171 THE PHOTOGRAPH 173 JEALOUS 175 PARTED 177 TEMPTATION 179 POSSUM TROT . . , 182 DELY 187 BREAKING THE CHARM 190 HUNTING SONG 194 A LETTER 197 CHRISMUS is A-COMIN . . 201 A CABIN TALE 204 AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN TIME 210 WHISTLING SAM 213 How LUCY BACKSLID ..... 218 Lyrics of the Hearthside. LOVE S APOTHEOSIS. LOVE me. I care not what the circling years To me may do. If, but in spite of time and tears, You prove but true. Love me albeit grief shall dim mine eyes, And tears bedew, I shall not e en complain, for then my skies Shall still be blue. Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile, And leave me chill, Thy passion s warmth shall make for me, mean while, A sun-kissed hill. i Lyrics of the Hearthside. And when the days have lengthened into years, And I grow old, Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears, Grow thou not cold. Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill, I say not down ; That twain go up, of love, who Ve loved their MI,- To gain love s crown. Love me, and let my life take up thine own, As sun the dew. Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throne Awaits for you ! The Paradox. THE PARADOX. I AM the mother of sorrows, I am the ender of grief; I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf. I am thy priest and thy poet, I am thy serf and thy king ; I cure the tears of the heartsick, When I come near they shall sing. White are my hands as the snow-drop ; Swart are my fingers as clay ; Dark is my frown as the midnight, Fair is my brow as the day. Battle and war are my minions, Doing my will as divine ; I am the calmer of passions, Peace is a nursling of mine. 3 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Speak to me gently or curse me, Seek me or fly from my sight ; I am thy fool in the morning, Thou art my slave in the night. Down to the grave will I take thee, Out from the noise of the strife ; Then shalt thou see me and know me Death, then, no longer, but life. Then shalt thou sing at my coming, Kiss me with passionate breath, Clasp me and smile to have thought me Aught save the foeman of Death. Come to me, brother, when weary, Come when thy lonely heart swells ; I 11 guide thy footsteps and lead thee Down where the Dream Woman dwells. Over the Hills. OVER THE HILLS. OVER the hills and the valleys of dreaming Slowly I take my way. Life is the night with its dream-visions teeming, Death is the waking at day. Down thro the dales and the bowers of loving, Singing, I roam afar. Daytime or night-time, I constantly roving, Dearest one, thou art my star. Lyrics of the Hearthside. WITH THE LARK. NIGHT is for sorrow and dawn is for joy, Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy ; Darkness for sighing and daylight for song, Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong. All the night through, though I moan in the dark, I wake in the morning to sing with the lark. Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves, Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves. But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky, I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry; And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark, I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark. 6 With the Lark. On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be, Where the rain shall not grieve thro the leaves of the tree, There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known, For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own ; And though life has been hard and death s path way been dark, I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark. Lyrics of the Hearthside. IN SUMMER. OH, summer has clothed the earth In a cloak from the loom of the sun ! And a mantle, too, of the skies soft blue, And a belt where the rivers run. And now for the kiss of the wind, And the touch of the air s soft hands, With the rest from strife and the heat of life, With the freedom of lakes and lands. I envy the farmer s boy Who sings as he follows the plow ; While the shining green of the young blades lean To the breezes that cool his brow. He sings to the dewy morn, No thought of another s ear ; But the song he sings is a chant for kings And the whole wide world to hear. In Summer. He sings of the joys of life, Of the pleasures of work and rest, From an o erfull heart, without aim or art ; T is a song of the merriest. O ye who toil in the town, And ye who moil in the mart, Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong Shall renew your joy of heart. Oh, poor were the worth of the world If never a song were heard, If the sting of grief had no relief, And never a heart were stirred. So, long as the streams run down, And as long as the robins trill, Let us taunt old Care with a merry air, And sing in the face of ill. Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE MYSTIC SEA. THE smell of the sea in my nostrils, The sound of the sea in mine ears ; The touch of the spray on my burning face, Like the mist of reluctant tears. The blue of the sky above me, The green of the waves beneath ; The sun flashing down on a gray-white sail Like a scimitar from its sheath. And ever the breaking billows, And ever the rocks disdain ; And ever a thrill in mine inmost heart That my reason cannot explain. So I say to my heart, " Be silent, The mystery of time is here ; Death s way will be plain when we fathom the main, And the secret of life be clear." 10 A Sailor s Song. A SAILOR S SONG. OH for the breath of the briny deep, And the tug of a bellying sail, With the sea-gull s cry across the sky And a passing boatman s hail. For, be she fierce or be she gay, The sea is a famous friend alway. Ho ! for the plains where the dolphins play, And the bend of the mast and spars, And a fight at night with the wild sea-sprite When the foam has drowned the stars. And, pray, what joy can the landsman feel Like the rise and fall of a sliding keel ? Fair is the mead ; the lawn is fair And the birds sing sweet on the lea ; But the echo soft of a song aloft ii Lyrics of the Hearthside. Is the strain that pleases me ; And swish of rope and ring of chain Are music to men who sail the main. Then, if you love me, let me sail While a vessel dares the deep ; For the ship s my wife, and the breath of life Are the raging gales that sweep ; And when I m done with calm and blast, A slide o er the side, and rest at last. 12 The Bohemian. THE BOHEMIAN. BRING me the livery of no other man. I am my own to robe me at my pleasure. Accepted rules to me disclose no treasure : What is the chief who shall my garments plan ? No garb conventional but I 11 attack it. (Come, why not don my spangled jacket?) Lyrics of the Hearthside. ABSENCE. GOOD-NIGHT, my love, for I have dreamed of thee In waking dreams, until my soul is lost Is lost in passion s wide and shoreless sea, Where, like a ship, unruddered, it is tost Hither and thither at the wild waves will. There is no potent Master s voice to still This newer, more tempestuous Galilee ! The stormy petrels of my fancy fly In warning course across the darkening green, And, like a frightened bird, my heart doth cry And seek to find some rock of rest between The threatening sky and the relentless wave. It is not length of life that grief doth crave, But only calm and peace in which to die. 14 Absence. Here let me rest upon this single hope, For oh, my wings are weary of the wind, And with its stress no more may strive or cope. One cry has dulled mine ears, mine eyes are blind, - Would that o er all the intervening space, I might fly forth and see thee face to face. I fly ; I search, but, love, in gloom I grope. Fly home, far bird, unto thy waiting nest ; Spread thy strong wings above the wind-swept sea. Beat the grim breeze with thy unruffled breast Until thou sittest wing to wing with me. Then, let the past bring up its tales of wrong ; We shall chant low our sweet connubial song, Till storm and doubt and past no more shall be ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. HER THOUGHT AND HIS. gray of the sea, and the gray of the sky, JL A glimpse of the moon like a half- closed eye. The gleam on the waves and the light on the land, A thrill in my heart, and my sweetheart s hand. She turned from the sea with a woman s grace, And the light fell soft on her upturned face, And I thought of the flood-tide of infinite bliss That would flow to my heart from a single kiss. But my sweetheart was shy, so I dared not ask For the boon, so bravely I wore the mask. But into her face there came a flame : I wonder could she have been thinking the same? 16 The Right to Die. THE RIGHT TO DIE. I HAVE no fancy for that ancient cant That makes us masters of our destinies, And not our lives, to hold or give them up As will directs ; I cannot, will not think That men, the subtle worms, who plot and plan And scheme and calculate with such shrewd wit, Are such great blund ring fools as not to know When they have lived enough. Men court not death When there are sweets still left in life to taste. Nor will a brave man choose to live when he, Full deeply drunk of life, has reached the dregs, And knows that now but bitterness remains. He is the coward who, outfaced in this, Fears the false goblins of another life. I honor him who being much harassed Drinks of sweet courage until drunk of it, Then seizing Death, reluctant, by the hand, Leaps with him, fearless, to eternal peace ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. BEHIND THE ARRAS. AS in some dim baronial hall restrained, A prisoner sits, engirt by secret doors And waving tapestries that argue forth Strange passages into the outer air ; So in this dimmer room which we call life, Thus sits the soul and marks with eye intent That mystic curtain o er the portal death ; Still deeming that behind the arras lies The lambent way that leads to lasting light. Poor fooled and foolish soul ! Know now that death Is but a blind, false door that nowhere leads, And gives no hope of exit final, free. 18 When the Old Man Smokes. WHEN THE OLD MAN SMOKES. IN the forenoon s restful quiet, When the boys are off at school, When the window lights are shaded And the chimney-corner cool, Then the old man seeks his armchair, Lights his pipe and settles back ; Falls a-dreaming as he draws it Till the smoke-wreaths gather black. And the teardrops come a-trickling Down his cheeks, a silver flow Smoke or memories you wonder, But you never ask him, no ; For there s something almost sacred To the other family folks In those moods of silent dreaming When the old man smokes. Lyrics of the Hearthside. Ah, perhaps he sits there dreaming Of the love of other days And of how he used to lead her Through the merry dance s maze ; How he called her " little princess," And, to please her, used to twine Tender wreaths to crown her tresses, From the " matrimony vine." Then before his mental vision Comes, perhaps, a sadder day, When they left his little princess Sleeping with her fellow clay. How his young heart throbbed, and pained him ! Why, the memory of it chokes ! Is it of these things he s thinking When the old man smokes ? But some brighter thoughts possess him, For the tears are dried the while. And the old, worn face is wrinkled In a reminiscent smile, 20 When the Old Man Smokes. From the middle of the foreiiead To the feebly trembling lip, At some ancient prank remembered Or some long unheard-of quip. Then the lips relax their tension And the pipe begins to slide, Till in little clouds of ashes, It falls softly at his side ; And his head bends low and lower Till his chin lies on his breast, And he sits in peaceful slumber Like a little child at rest. Dear old man, there s something sad ning, In these dreamy moods of yours, Since the present proves so fleeting, All the past for you endures. Weeping at forgotten sorrows, Smiling at forgotten jokes ; Life epitomized in minutes, When the old man smokes. 21 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE GARRET. WITHIN a London garret high, Above the roofs and near the sky, My ill-rewarding pen I ply To win me bread. This little chamber, six by four, Is castle, study, den, and more, Altho no carpet decks the floor, Nor down, the bed. My room is rather bleak and bare ; I only have one broken chair, But then, there s plenty of fresh air, Some light, beside. What tho I cannot ask my friends To share with me my odds and ends, A liberty my aerie lends, To most denied. 22 The Garret. The bore who falters at the stair No more shall be my curse and care, And duns shall fail to find my lair With beastly bills. When debts have grown and funds are short, I find it rather pleasant sport To live " above the common sort " With all their ills. I write my rhymes and sing away, And dawn may come or dusk or day : Tho fare be poor, my heart is gay, And full of glee. Though chimney-pots be all my views ; T is nearer for the winging Muse, So I am sure she 11 not refuse To visit me. Lyrics of the Hearthside. TO E. H. K. ON THE RECEIPT OF A FAMILIAR POEM. TO me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath From some far forest which I once have known, The perfume of this flower of verse is blown. Tho seemingly soul-blossoms faint to death, Naught that with joy she bears e er withereth. So, tho the pregnant years have come and flown, Lives come and gone and altered like mine own, This poem comes to me a shibboleth : Brings sound of past communings to my ear, Turns round the tide of time and bears me back Along an old and long untraversed way ; Makes me forget this is a later year, Makes me tread o er a reminiscent track, Half sad, half glad, to one forgotten day ! 24 A Bridal Measure. A BRIDAL MEASURE. COME, essay a sprightly measure, Tuned to some light song of pleasure. Maidens, let your brows be crowned As we foot this merry round. From the ground a voice is singing, From the sod a soul is springing. Who shall say t is but a clod Quick ning upward toward its God? Who shall say it ? Who may know it, That the clod is not a poet Waiting but a gleam to waken In a spirit music-shaken? Phyllis, Phyllis, why be waiting? In the woods the birds are mating. From the tree beside the wall, Hear the am rous robin call. 25 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Listen to yon thrush s trilling ; Phyllis, Phyllis, are you willing, When love speaks from cave and tree, Only we should silent be ? When the year, itself renewing, All the world with flowers is strewing, Then through Youth s Arcadian land, Love and song go hand in hand. Come, unfold your vocal treasure, Sing with me a nuptial measure, Let this springtime gambol be Bridal dance for you and me. 26 Vengeance is Sweet. VENGEANCE IS SWEET. W r HEN I was young I longed for Love, And held his glory far above All other earthly things. I cried : " Come, Love, dear Love, with me abide ; " And with my subtlest art 1 wooed, And eagerly the wight pursued. But Love was gay and Love was shy, He laughed at me and passed me by. Well, I grew old and I grew gray, When Wealth came wending down my way. I took his golden hand with glee, And comrades from that day were we. Then Love came back with doleful face, And prayed that I would give him place. But, though his eyes with tears were dim, I turned my back and laughed at him. 27 Lyrics of the Hearthside. A HYMN. AFTER READING " LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT." T E AD gently, Lord, and slow, JL/ For oh, my steps are weak, And ever as I go, Some soothing sentence speak ; That I may turn my face Through doubt s obscurity Toward thine abiding-place, E en tho I cannot see. For lo, the way is dark ; Through mist and cloud I grope, Save for that fitful spark, The little flame of hope. Lead gently, Lord, and slow, For fear that I may fall ; I know not where to go Unless I hear thy call. 28 A Hymn. My fainting soul doth yearn For thy green hills afar ; So let thy mercy burn My greater, guiding star ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. JUST WHISTLE A BIT. JUST whistle a bit, if the day be dark, And the sky be overcast : If mute be the voice of the piping lark, Why, pipe your own small blast. And it s wonderful how o er the gray sky-track The truant warbler comes stealing back. But why need he come ? for your soul s at rest, And the song in the heart, ah, that is best. Just whistle a bit, if the night be drear And the stars refuse to shine : And a gleam that mocks the starlight clear Within you glows benign. Till the dearth of light in the glooming skies Is lost to the sight of your soul-lit eyes. What matters the absence of moon or star? The light within is the best by far. Just Whistle a Bit. Just whistle a bit, if there s work to do, With the mind or in the soil. And your note will turn out a talisman true To exorcise grim Toil. It will lighten your burden and make you feel That there s nothing like work as a sauce for a meal. And with song in your heart and the meal in its place, There 11 be joy in your bosom and light in your face. Just whistle a bit, if your heart be sore ; T is a wonderful balm for pain. Just pipe some old melody o er and o er Till it soothes like summer rain. And perhaps twould be best in a later day, When Death comes stalking down the way, To knock at your bosom and see if you re fit, Then, as you wait calmly, just whistle a bit. Lyrics of the Hearthside. 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 ! " 32 The Barrier. He hurled his flaming lances far ; The twain stood unarTrighted And midnight and the Morning-Star Lay down in death united ! 33 Lyrics of the Hearthside. DREAMS. DREAM on, for dreams are sweet Do not awaken ! Dream on, and at thy feet Pomegranates shall be shaken. Who likeneth the youth Of life to morning ? T is like the night in truth, Rose-coloured dreams adorning. The wind is soft above, The shadows umber. (There is a dream called Love.) Take thou the fullest slumber ! In Lethe s soothing stream, Thy thirst thou slakest. Sleep, sleep ; t is sweet to dream. Oh, weep when thou awakest ! 34 The Dreamer. THE DREAMER. TEMPLES he built and palaces of air, And, with the artist s parent-pride aglow, His fancy saw his vague ideals grow Into creations marvellously fair ; He set his foot upon Fame s nether stair. But ah, his dream, it had entranced him so He could not move. He could no farther go ; But paused in joy that he was even there ! He did not wake until one day there gleamed Thro his dark consciousness a light that racked His being till he rose, alert to act. But lo ! what he had dreamed, the while he dreamed, Another, wedding action unto thought, Into the living, pulsing world had brought. 35 Lyrics of the Hearthside. WAITING. THE sun has slipped his tether And galloped down the west. (Oh, it s weary, weary waiting, love.) The little bird is sleeping In the softness of its nest. Night follows day, day follows dawn, And so the time has come and gone : And it s weary, weary waiting, love. The cruel wind is rising With a whistle and a wail. (And it s weary, weary waiting, love.) My eyes are seaward straining For the coming of a sail ; But void the sea, and void the beach Far and beyond where gaze can reach ! And it s weary, weary waiting, love. 36 Waiting. I heard the bell-buoy ringing How long ago it seems ! (Oh, it s weary, weary waiting, love.) And ever still, its knelling Crashes in upon my dreams. The banns were read, my frock was sewn ; Since then two seasons winds have blown And it s weary, weary waiting, love. The stretches of the ocean Are bare and bleak to-day. (Oh, it s weary, weary waiting, love.) My eyes are growing dimmer Is it tears, or age, or spray ? But I will stay till you come home. Strange ships come in across the foam ! But it s weary, weary waiting, love. 37 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE END OF THE CHAPTER. AH, yes, the chapter ends to-day ; We even lay the book away ; But oh, how sweet the moments sped Before the final page was read ! We tried to read between the lines The Author s deep-concealed designs ; But scant reward such search secures ; You saw my heart and I saw yours. The Master, He who penned the page And bade us read it, He is sage : And what he orders, you and I Can but obey, nor question why. We read together and forgot The world about us. Time was not. Unheeded and unfelt, it fled. We read and hardly knew we read. 38 The End of the Chapter. Until beneath a sadder sun, We came to know the book was done. Then, as our minds were but new lit, It dawned upon us what was writ ; And we were startled. In our eyes, Looked forth the light of great surprise. Then as a deep-toned tocsin tolls, A voice spoke forth : " Behold your souls ! " I do, I do. I cannot look Into your eyes : so close the book. But brought it grief or brought it bliss, No other page shall read like this ! 39 Lyrics of the Hearthside. SYMPATHY. 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, And the river flows like a stream of glass ; When the first bird sings and the first bud opes, And the faint perfume from its chalice steals I know what the caged bird feels ! I know why the caged bird beats his wing Till its blood is red on the cruel bars ; For he must fly back to his perch and cling When he fain would be on the bough a-swing ; And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars And they pulse again with a keener sting I know why he beats his wing ! 40 Sympathy. I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore, When he beats his bars and he would be free ; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart s deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings I know why the caged bird sings ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. LOVE AND GRIEF. OUT of my heart, one treach rous winter s day, I locked young Love and threw the key away. Grief, wandering widely, found the key, And hastened with it, straightway, back to me, With Love beside him. He unlocked the door And bad Love enter with him there and stay. And so the twain abide for evermore. LOVE S CHASTENING. Once Love grew bold and arrogant of air, Proud of the youth that made him fresh and fair; So unto Grief he spake, * What right hast thou To part or parcel of this heart? " Griefs brow Was darkened with the storm of inward strife ; Thrice smote he Love as only he might dare, And Love, pride purged, was chastened all his life. 42 Mortality. MORTALITY. ASHES to ashes, dust unto dust, What of his loving, what of his lust ? What of his passion, what of his pain ? What of his poverty, what of his pride ? Earth, the great mother, has called him again : Deeply he sleeps, the world s verdict defied. Shall he be tried again ? Shall he go free ? Who shall the court convene ? Where shall it be ? No answer on the land, none from the sea. Only we know that as he did, we must : You with your theories, you with your trust, Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust ! 43 Lyrics of the Hearthside. LOVE. A LIFE was mine full of the close concern Of many-voiced affairs. The world sped fast; Behind me, ever rolled a pregnant past. A present came equipped with lore to learn. Art, science, letters, in their turn, Each one allured me with its treasures vast ; And I staked all for wisdom, till at last Thou cam st and taught my soul anew to yearn. I had not dreamed that I could turn away From all that men with brush and pen had wrought ; But ever since that memorable day When to my heart the truth of love was brought, I have been wholly yielded to its sway, And had no room for any other thought. 44 She Gave Me a Rose. SHE GAVE ME A ROSE. SHE gave me a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. I love her, she knows, And my action confessed it. She gave me a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. Ah, how my heart glows, Could I ever have guessed it? It is fair to suppose That I might have repressed it : She gave me a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. Twas a rhyme in life s prose That uplifted and blest it. Man s nature, who knows Until love comes to test it? She gave me a rose, And I kissed it and pressed it. 45 Lyrics of the Hearthside. DREAM SONG. I. LONG years ago, within a distant clime, Ere Love had touched me with his wand sublime, I dreamed of one to make my life s calm May The panting passion of a summer s day. And ever since, in almost sad suspense, I have been waiting with a soul intense To greet and take unto myself the beams, Of her, my star, the lady of my dreams. O Love, still longed and looked for, come to me, Be thy far home by mountain, vale, or sea. My yearning heart may never find its rest Until thou liest rapt upon my breast. The wind may bring its perfume from the south, Is it so sweet as breath from my love s mouth? Oh, naught that surely is, and naught that seems May turn me from the lady of my dreams. 46 Dream Song. II. DREAM SONG. II. PRAY, what can dreams avail To make love or to mar? The child within the cradle rail Lies dreaming of the star. But is the star by this beguiled To leave its place and seek the child ? The poor plucked rose within its glass Still dreameth of the bee ; But, tho the lagging moments pass, Her Love she may not see. If dream of child and flower fail, Why should a maiden s dreams prevail ? 47 Lyrics of the Heart hside. CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART. THE snow lies deep upon the ground, And winter s brightness all around Decks bravely out the forest sere, With jewels of the brave old year. The coasting crowd upon the hill With some new spirit seems to thrill ; And all the temple bells achime Ring out the glee of Christmas time. In happy homes the brown oak-bough Vies with the red-gemmed holly now ; And here and there, like pearls, there show The berries of the mistletoe. A sprig upon the chandelier Says to the maidens, " Come not here ! " Even the pauper of the earth Some kindly gift has cheered to mirth ! 48 Christmas in the Heart. Within his chamber, dim and cold, There sits a grasping miser old. He has no thought save one of gain, To grind and gather and grasp and drain. A peal of bells, a merry shout Assail his ear : he gazes out Upon a world to him all gray, And snarls, " Why, this is Christmas Day ! " No, man of ice, for shame, for shame ! For " Christmas Day " is no mere name. No, not for you this ringing cheer, This festal season of the year. And not for you the chime of bells From holy temple rolls and swells. In day and deed he has no part Who holds not Christmas in his heart ! 49 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE KING IS DEAD. AYE, lay him in his grave, the old dead year! His life is lived fulfilled his destiny. Have you for him no sad, regretful tear To drop beside the cold, unfollowed bier? Can you not pay the tribute of a sigh ? Was he not kind to you, this dead old year? Did he not give enough of earthly store ? Enough of love, and laughter, and good cheer ? Have not the skies you scanned sometimes been clear ? How, then, of him who dies, could you ask more? It is not well to hate him for the pain He brought you, and the sorrows manifold. To pardon him these hurts still I am fain ; 5 The King is Dead. For in the panting period of his reign, He brought me new wounds, but he healed the old. One little sigh for thee, my poor, dead friend One little sigh while my companions sing. Thou art so soon forgotten in the end ; We cry e en as thy footsteps downward tend : " The king is dead ! long live the king ! " Lyrics of the Hearthside. THEOLOGY. is a heaven, for ever, day by day, JL The upward longing of my soul doth tell me so. There is a hell, I m quite as sure ; for pray, If there were not, where would my neigh bours go ? 5 2 Resignation. RESIGNATION. LONG had I grieved at what I deemed abuse ; But now I am as grain within the mill. If so be thou must crush me for thy use, Grind on, O potent God, and do thy will ! 53 Lyrics of the Hearthside. LOVE S HUMILITY. AS some rapt gazer on the lowly earth, Looks up to radiant planets, ranging far, So I, whose soul doth know thy wondrous worth Look longing up to thee as to a star. 54 Precedent. PRECEDENT. "TVHE poor man went to the rich man s doors, JL "I come as Lazarus came," he said. The rich man turned with humble head, " I will send my dogs to lick your sores ! " 55 Lyrics of the Hearthside. SHE TOLD HER BEADS. SHE told her beads with downcast eyes, Within the ancient chapel dim ; And ever as her fingers slim Slipt o er th insensate ivories, My rapt soul followed, spaniel-wise. Ah, many were the beads she wore ; But as she told them o er and o er, They did not number all my sighs. My heart was filled with unvoiced cries And prayers and pleadings unexpressed ; But while I burned with Love s unrest, She told her beads with downcast eyes. Little Lucy Landman. LITTLE LUCY LANDMAN. OH, the day has set me dreaming In a strange, half solemn way Of the feelings I experienced On another long past day, Of the way my heart made music When the buds began to blow, And o little Lucy Landman Whom I loved long years ago. It s in spring, the poet tells us, That we turn to thoughts of love, And our hearts go out a-wooing With the lapwing and the dove. But whene er the soul goes seeking Its twin-soul, upon the wing, I ve a notion, backed by mem ry, That it s love that makes the spring. 57 Lyrics of the Hearthside. I have heard a robin singing When the boughs were brown and bare, And the chilling hand of winter Scattered jewels through the air. And in spite of dates and seasons, It was always spring, I know, When I loved Lucy Landman In the days of long ago. Ah, my little Lucy Landman, I remember you as well As if t were only yesterday I strove your thoughts to tell, - When I tilted back your bonnet, Looked into your eyes so true, Just to see if you were loving Me as I was loving you. Ah, my little Lucy Landman It is true it was denied You should see a fuller summer And an autumn by my side. 58 Little Lucy Landman. But the glance of love s sweet sunlight Which your eyes that morning gave Has kept spring within my bosom, Though you lie within the grave. 59 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE GOURD. IN the heavy earth the miner Toiled and laboured day by day, Wrenching from the miser mountain Brilliant treasure where it lay. And the artist worn and weary Wrought with labour manifold That the king might drink his nectar From a goblet made of gold. On the prince s groaning table Mid the silver gleaming bright Mirroring the happy faces Giving back the flaming light, Shine the cups of priceless crystal Chased with many a lovely line, Glowing now with warmer colour, Crimsoned by the ruby wine. 60 The Gourd. In a valley sweet with sunlight, Fertile with the dew and rain, Without miner s daily labour, Without artist s nightly pain, There there grows the cup I drink from, Summer s sweetness in it stored, And my lips pronounce a blessing As they touch an old brown gourd. Why, the miracle at Cana In the land of Galilee, Tho it puzzles all the scholars, Is no longer strange to me. For the poorest and the humblest Could a priceless wine afford, If they d only dip up water With a sunlight-seasoned gourd. So a health to my old comrade, And a song of praise to sing When he rests inviting kisses In his place beside the spring. 61 Lyrics of the Hearth-side. Give the king his golden goblets, Give the prince his crystal hoard ; But for me the sparkling water From a brown and brimming gourd ! 62 The Knight. THE KNIGHT. OUR good knight, Ted, girds his broad sword on (And he wields it well, I ween) ; He s on his steed, and away has gone To the fight for king and queen. What tho no edge the broadsword hath? What tho the blade be made of lath? T is a valiant hand Tliat wields the brand, So, foeman, clear the path ! He prances off at a goodly pace ; T is a noble steed he rides, That bears as well in the speedy race As he bears in battle-tides. What tho t is but a rocking-chair That prances with this stately air? T is a warrior bold The reins doth hold, Who bids all foes beware ! 63 Lyrics of the Hearth side. THOU ART MY LUTE. art my lute, by thee I sing, -L My being is attuned to thee. Thou settest all my words a- wing, And meltest me to melody. Thou art my life, by thee I live, From thee proceed the joys I know ; Sweetheart, thy hand has power to give The meed of love the cup of woe. Thou art my love, by thee I lead My soul the paths of light along, From vale to vale, from mead to mead, And home it in the hills of song. My song, my soul, my life, my all, Why need I pray or make my plea, Since my petition cannot fall ; For I m already one with thee 1 64 The Phantom Kiss. THE PHANTOM KISS. ONE night in my room, still and beamless, With will and with thought in eclipse, I rested in sleep that was dreamless ; When softly there fell on my lips A touch, as of lips that were pressing Mine own with the message of bliss A sudden, soft, fleeting caressing, A breath like a maiden s first kiss. I woke and the scoffer may doubt me I peered in surprise through the gloom ; But nothing and none were about me, And I was alone in my room. Perhaps t was the wind that caressed me And touched me with dew-laden breath ; Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed me The low-winging Angel of Death. 5 65 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Some sceptic may choose to disdain it, Or one feign to read it aright ; Or wisdom may seek to explain it This mystical kiss in the night. But rather let fancy thus clear it : That, thinking of me here alone, The miles were made naught, and, in spirit, Thy lips, love, were laid on mine own. 66 Communion. COMMUNION. IN the silence of my heart, I will spend an hour with thee, When my love shall rend apart All the veil of mystery : All that dim and misty veil That shut in between our souls When Death cried, " Ho, maiden, hail ! " And your barque sped on the shoals. On the shoals? Nay, wrongly said. On the breeze of Death that sweeps Far from life, thy soul has sped Out into unsounded deeps. I shall take an hour and come Sailing, darling, to thy side. Wind nor sea may keep me from Soft communings with my bride. 67 Lyrics of the Hearthside. I shall rest my head on thee As I did long days of yore, When a calm, untroubled sea Rocked thy vessel at the shore. I shall take thy hand in mine, And live o er the olden days When thy smile to me was wine, Golden wine thy word of praise, For the carols I had wrought In my soul s simplicity ; For the petty beads of thought Which thine eyes alone could see. Ah, those eyes, love-blind, but keen For my welfare and my weal ! Tho the grave-door shut between, Still their love-lights o er me steal. I can see thee thro 1 my tears, As thro rain we see the sun. What tho cold and cooling years Shall their bitter courses run, 68 Communion. I shall see thee still and be Thy true lover evermore, And thy face shall be to me Dear and helpful as before. Death may vaunt and Death may boast, But we laugh his pow r to scorn ; He is but a slave at most, Night that heralds coming morn. I shall spend an hour with thee Day by day, my little bride. True love laughs at mystery, Crying, " Doors of Death, fly wide." Lyrics of the Hearthside. MARE RUBRUM. IN Life s Red Sea with faith I plant my feet, And wait the sound of that sustaining word Which long ago the men of Israel heard, When Pharaoh s host behind them, fierce and fleet, Raged on, consuming with revengeful heat. Why are the barrier waters still unstirred ? That struggling faith may die of hope de ferred? Is God not sitting in His ancient seat ? The billows swirl above my trembling limbs, And almost chill my anxious heart to doubt And disbelief, long conquered and defied. But tho the music of my hopeful hymns Is drowned by curses of the raging rout, No voice yet bids th opposing waves divide ! 70 In An English Garden. IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN. IN this old garden, fair, I walk to-day Heart-charmed with all the beauty of the scene : The rich, luxuriant grasses cooling green, The wall s environ, ivy-decked and gray, The waving branches with the wind at play, The slight and tremulous blooms that show between, Sweet all : and yet my yearning heart doth lean Toward Love s Egyptian flesh-pots far away. Beside the wall, the slim Laburnum grows And flings its golden flow rs to every breeze. But e en among such soothing sights as these, I pant and nurse my soul-devouring woes. Of all the longings that our hearts wot of, There is no hunger like the want of love ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE CRISIS A MAN of low degree was sore oppressed, Fate held him under iron-handed sway, And ever, those who saw him thus distressed Would bid him bend his stubborn will and pray. But he, strong in himself and obdurate, Waged, prayerless, on his losing fight with Fate. Friends gave his proffered hand their coldest clasp, Or took it not at all ; and Poverty, That bruised his body with relentless grasp, Grinned, taunting, when he struggled to be free. But though with helpless hands he beat the air, His need extreme yet found no voice in prayer. 72 The Crisis. Then he prevailed ; and forthwith snobbish Fate, Like some whipped cur, came fawning at his feet; Those who had scorned forgave and called him great His friends found out that friendship still was sweet. But he, once obdurate, now bowed his head In prayer, and trembling with its import, said : " Mere human strength may stand ill-fortune s frown ; So I prevailed, for human strength was mine ; But from the killing pow r of great renown, Naught may protect me save a strength divine. Help me, O Lord, in this my trembling cause ; I scorn men s curses, but I dread applause ! " Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE CONQUERORS. THE BLACK TROOPS IN CUBA. ROUND the wide earth, from the red field your valour has won, Blown with the breath of the far-speaking gun, Goes the word. Bravely you spoke through the battle cloud heavy and dun. Tossed though the speech toward the mist- hidden sun, The world heard. Hell would have shrunk from you seeking it fresh from the fray, Grim with the dust of the battle, and gray From the fight. 74 The Conquerors. Heaven would have crowned you, with crowns not of gold but of bay, Owning you fit for the light of her day, Men of night. Far through the cycle of years and of lives that shall come, There shall speak voices long muffled and dumb, Out of fear. And through the noises of trade and the turbu lent hum, Truth shall rise over the militant drum, Loud and clear Then on the cheek of the honester nation that grows, All for their love of you, not for your woes, There shall lie Tears that shall be to your souls as the dew to the rose ; Afterward thanks, that the present yet knows Not to ply ! 75 Lyrics of the Hearthside. ALEXANDER CRUMMELL DEAD. BACK to the breast of thy mother, Child of the earth ! E en her caress can not smother What thou hast done. Follow the trail of the westering sun Over the earth. Thy light and his were as one Sun, in thy worth. Unto a nation whose sky was as night, Camest thou, holily, bearing thy light : And the dawn came, In it thy fame Flashed up in a flame. Back to the breast of thy mother To rest. Long hast thou striven ; 76 Alexander Crummell Dead. Dared where the hills by the lightning of heaven were riven ; Go now, pure shriven. Who shall come after thee, out of the clay Learned one and leader to show us the way? Who shall rise up when the world gives the test? Think thou no more of this Rest! 77 Lyrics of the Hearthside. WHEN ALL IS DONE WHEN all is done, and my last word is said, And ye who loved me murmur, " He is dead," Let no one weep, for fear that I should know, And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so. When all is done and in the oozing clay, Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away, Pray not for me, for, after long despair, The quiet of the grave will be a prayer. For I have suffered loss and grievous pain, The hurts of hatred and the world s disdain, And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and pure, Had not the pow r to ease them or to cure. 78 When All is Done. When all is done, say not my day is o er, And that thro night I seek a dimmer shore Say rather that my morn has just begun, I greet the dawn and not a setting sun, When all is done. 79 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE POET AND THE BABY. HO W S a man to write a sonnet, can you tell, How s he going to weave the dim, poetic spell, - When a- toddling on the floor Is the muse he must adore, And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well? Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows, One must always be as quiet as a mouse ; But to write one seems to me Quite superfluous to be, When you ve got a little sonnet in the house. Just a dainty little poem, true and fine, That is full of love and life in every line, Earnest, delicate, and sweet, Altogether so complete That I wonder what s the use of writing mine. 80 Distinction. DISTINCTION. ; T AM but clay," the sinner plead, JL Who fed each vain desire. Not only clay," another said, " But worse, for thou art mire." 81 Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE SUM. A LITTLE dreaming by the way, A little toiling day by day ; A little pain, a little strife, A little joy, and that is life. A little short-lived summer s morn, When joy seems all so newly born, When one day s sky is blue above, And one bird sings, and that is love. A little sickening of the years, The tribute of a few hot tears Two folded hands, the failing breath, And peace at last, and that is death. Just dreaming, loving, dying so, The actors in the drama go A flitting picture on a wall, Love, Death, the themes ; but is that all? 82 Sonnet. SONNET. ON AN OLD BOOK WITH UNCUT LEAVES. EMBLEM of blasted hope and lost desire, No finger ever traced thy yellow page Save Time s. Thou hast not wrought to noble rage The hearts thou wouldst have stirred. Not any fire Save sad flames set to light a funeral pyre Dost thou suggest. Nay. impotent in age, Unsought, thou holdst a corner of the stage And ceasest even dumbly to aspire. How different was the thought of him that writ. What promised he to love of ease and wealth, When men should read and kindle at his wit. But here decay eats up the book by stealth, While it, like some old maiden, solemnly, Hugs its incongruous virginity ! 83 Lyrics of the Hearthside. ON THE SEA WALL. I SIT upon the old sea wall, And watch the shimmering sea, Where soft and white the moonbeams fall, Till, in a fantasy, Some pure white maiden s funeral pall The strange light seems to me. The waters break upon the shore And shiver at my feet, While I dream old dreams o er and o er, And dim old scenes repeat ; Tho all have dreamed the same before, They still seem new and sweet. The waves still sing the same old song That knew an elder time ; The breakers beat is not more strong, Their music more sublime ; And poets thro the ages long Have set these notes to rhyme. 84 On the Sea Wall. But this shall not deter my lyre, Nor check my simple strain ; If I have not the old-time fire, I know the ancient pain : The hurt of unfulfilled desire, The ember quenched by rain. I know the softly shining sea That rolls this gentle swell Has snarled and licked its tongues at me And bared its fangs as well ; That neath its smile so heavenly, There lurks the scowl of hell ! But what of that ? I strike my string (For songs in youth are sweet) ; I 11 wait and hear the waters bring Their loud resounding beat ; Then, in her own bold numbers sing The Ocean s dear deceit ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. TO A LADY PLAYING THE HARP. / T~^HY tones are silver melted into sound, A And as I dream I see no walls around, But seem to hear A gondolier Sing sweetly down some slow Venetian stream. Italian skies that I have never seen I see above. (Ah, play again, my queen ; Thy fingers white Fly swift and light And weave for me the golden mesh of love.) Oh, thou dusk sorceress of the dusky eyes And soft dark hair, T is thou that mak st my skies 86 To a Lady Playing the Harp. So swift to change To far and strange ; But far and strange, thou still dost make them fair. Now thou dost sing, and I am lost in thee As one who drowns In floods of melody. Still in thy art Give me this part, Till perfect love, the love of loving crowns. Lyrics of the Hearthside, CONFESSIONAL. SEARCH thou my heart ; If there be guile, It shall depart Before thy smile. Search thou my soul ; Be there deceit, T will vanish whole Before thee, sweet. Upon rny mind Turn thy pure lens ; Naught shalt thou find Thou canst not cleanse. 88 Confessional. If I should pray, I scarcely know In just what way My prayers would go. So strong in me I feel love s leaven, I d bow to thee As soon as Heaven ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. MISAPPREHENSION. OUT of my heart, one day, I wrote a song, With my heart s blood imbued, Instinct with passion, tremulously strong, With grief subdued ; Breathing a fortitude Pain-bought. And one who claimed much love for what I wrought, Read and considered it, And spoke : " Ay, brother, tis well writ, But where s the joke?" 90 Prometheus. PROMETHEUS. PROMETHEUS stole from Heaven the sacred fire And swept to earth with it o er land and sea. He lit the vestal flames of poesy, Content, for this, to brave celestial ire. Wroth were the gods, and with eternal hate Pursued the fearless one who ravished Heaven That earth might hold in fee the perfect leaven To lift men s souls above their low estate. But judge you now, when poets wield the pen, Think you not well the wrong has been re paired ? Twas all in vain that ill Prometheus fared : The fire has been returned to Heaven again ! 9 1 Lyrics of the Hearthside. We have no singers like the ones whose note Gave challenge to the noblest warbler s song. We have no voice so mellow, sweet, and strong As that which broke from Shelley s golden throat. The measure of our songs is our desires : We tinkle where old poets used to storm. We lack their substance tho we keep their form : We strum our banjo-strings and call them lyres. 92 Love s Phases. LOVE S PHASES. LOVE hath the wings of the butterfly, Oh, clasp him but gently, Pausing and dipping and fluttering by Inconsequently. Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh ; Love hath the wings of the butterfly. Love hath the wings of the eagle bold, Cling to him strongly What if the look of the world be cold, And life go wrongly? Rest on his pinions, for broad is their fold ; Love hath the wings of the eagle bold. Love hath the voice of the nightingale, Hearken his trilling List to his song when the moonlight is pale,- Passionate, thrilling. 93 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Cherish the lay, ere the lilt of it fail ; Love hath the voice of the nightingale. Love hath the voice of the storm at night, Wildly defiant. Hear him and yield up your soul to his might, Tenderly pliant. None shall regret him who heed him aright ; Love hath the voice of the storm at night. 94 For the Man who Fails. FOR THE MAN WHO FAILS. E world is a snob, and the man who wins JL Is the chap for its money s worth : And the lust for success causes half of the sins That are cursing this brave old earth. For it s fine to go up, and the world s applause Is sweet to the mortal ear ; But the man who fails in a noble cause Is a hero that s no less dear. T is true enough that the laurel crown Twines but for the victor s brow ; For many a hero has lain him down With naught but the cypress bough. There are gallant men in the losing fight, And as gallant deeds are done As ever graced the captured height Or the battle grandly won. 95 Lyrics of the Hearthside. We sit at life s board with our nerves highstrung, And we play for the stake of Fame, And our odes are sung and our banners hung For the man who wins the game. But I have a song of another kind Than breathes in these fame-wrought gales, An ode to the noble heart and mind Of the gallant man who fails ! The man who is strong to fight his fight, And whose will no front can daunt, If the truth be truth and the right be right, Is the man that the ages want. Tho* he fail and die in grim defeat, Yet he has not fled the strife, And the house of Earth will seem more sweet For the perfume of his life. 96 Harriet Beecher Stowe. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. SHE told the story, and the whole world wept At wrongs and cruelties it had not known But for this fearless woman s voice alone. She spoke to consciences that long had slept : Her message, Freedom s clear reveille, swept From heedless hovel to complacent throne. Command and prophecy were in the tone And from its sheath the sword of justice leapt. Around two peoples swelled a fiery wave, But both came forth transfigured from the flame. Blest be the hand that dared be strong to save, And blest be she who in our weakness came Prophet and priestess ! At one stroke she gave A race to freedom and herself to fame. 97 Lyrics of the Hearthside. VAGRANTS. LONG time ago, we two set out, My soul and I. I know not why, For all our way was dim with doubt. I know not where We two may fare : Though still with every changing weather, We wander, groping on together. We do not love, we are not friends, My soul and I. He lives a lie ; Untruth lines every way he wends. A scoffer he Who jeers at me : And so, my comrade and my brother, We wander on and hate each other. Vagrants. Ay, there be taverns and to spare, Beside the road ; But some strange goad Lets me not stop to taste their fare. Knew I the goal Toward which my soul And I made way, hope made life fragrant But no. We wander, aimless, vagrant ! 99 Lyrics of the Hearthside. A WINTER S DAY. ACROSS the hills and down the narrow ways, And up the valley where the free winds sweep, The earth is folded in an ermined sleep That mocks the melting mirth of myriad Mays. Departed her disheartening duns and grays, And all her crusty black is covered deep. Dark streams are locked in Winter s donjon- keep, And made to shine with keen, unwonted rays. O icy mantle, and deceitful snow ! What world-old liars in your hearts ye are ! Are there not still the darkened seam and scar Beneath the brightness that you fain would show ? Come from the cover with thy blot and blur, O reeking Earth, thou whited sepulchre ! 100 My Little March Girl. MY LITTLE MARCH GIRL. COME to the pane, draw the curtain apart, There she is passing, the girl of my heart ; See where she walks like a queen in the street, Weather-defying, calm, placid and sweet. Tripping along with impetuous grace, Joy of her life beaming out of her face, Tresses all truant-like, curl upon curl, Wind-blown and rosy, my little March girl. Hint of the violet s delicate bloom, Hint of the rose s pervading perfume ! How can the wind help from kissing her face, Wrapping her round in his stormy embrace? But still serenely she laughs at his rout, She is the victor who wins in the bout. So may life s passions about her soul swirl, Leaving it placid, my little March girl. 101 Lyrics of the Hearthside. What self-possession looks out of her eyes ! What are the wild winds, and what are the skies, Frowning and glooming when, brimming with life, Cometh the little maid ripe for the strife ? Ah ! Wind, and bah ! Wind, what might have you now? What can you do with that innocent brow? Blow, Wind, and grow, Wind, and eddy and swirl, But bring her to me, Wind, my little March girl. IO2 Remembered. REMEMBERED. SHE sang, and I listened the whole song thro . (It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.) The stars were out and the moon it grew From a wee soft glimmer way out in the blue To a bird thro the heavens winging. She sang, and the song trembled down to my breast, (It was sweet, so sweet the singing.) As a dove just out of its fledgling nest, And, putting its wings to the first sweet test, Flutters homeward so wearily winging. She sang and I said to my heart, " That song, That was sweet, so sweet i the singing, Shall live with us and inspire us long, And thou, my heart, shalt be brave and strong For the sake of those words a-winging. 103 Lyrics of the Hearthside. The woman died and the song was still. (It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.) But ever I hear the same low trill, Of the song that shakes my heart with a thrill, And goes forever winging. 104 Love Despoiled. LOVE DESPOILED. AS lone I sat one summer s day, With mien dejected, Love came by ; His face distraught, his locks astray, So slow his gait, so sad his eye, I hailed him with a pitying cry : " Pray, Love, what has disturbed thee so? " Said I, amazed. " Thou seem st bereft ; And see thy quiver hanging low, What, not a single arrow left? Pray, who is guilty of this theft? " Poor Love looked in my face and cried : " No thief were ever yet so bold To rob my quiver at my side. But Time, who rules, gave ear to Gold, And all my goodly shafts are sold." Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE LAPSE. THIS poem must be done to-day Then, I 11 e en to it. I must not dream my time away, I m sure to rue it. The day is rather bright, I know The Muse will pardon My half-defection, if I go Into the garden. It must be better working there, I m sure it s sweeter : And something in the balmy air May clear my metre. \Jn the Gar den. ~\ Ah this is noble, what a sky ! What breezes blowing ! The very clouds, I know not why, Call one to rowing. 106 The Lapse. The stream will be a paradise To-day, I 11 warrant. I know the tide that s on the rise Will seem a torrent ; I know just how the leafy boughs Are all a-quiver ; I know how many skiffs and scows Are on the river. I think I 11 just go out awhile Before I write it ; When Nature shows us such a smile, We should n t slight it. For Nature always makes desire By giving pleasure ; And so t will help me put more fire Into my measure. [ On the River. } The river s fine, I m glad I came, That poem s teasing ; But health is better far than fame, Though cheques are pleasing. 107 Lyrics of the Hearthside. I don t know what I did it for, This air s a poppy. I m sorry for my editor, He 11 get no copy ! 108 The Warrior s Prayer. THE WARRIOR S PRAYER. LONG since, in sore distress, I heard one pray, " Lord, who prevailest with resistless might, Ever from war and strife keep me away, My battles fight ! " I know not if I play the Pharisee, And if my brother after all be right ; But mine shall be the warrior s plea to thee Strength for the fight. I do not ask that thou shalt front the fray, And drive the warring foeman from my sight ; I only ask, O Lord, by night, by day, Strength for the fight ! When foes upon me press, let me not quail Nor think to turn me into coward flight. I only ask, to make mine arms prevail, Strength for the fight ! 109 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Still let mine eyes look ever on the foe, Still let mine armor case me strong and bright ; And grant me, as I deal each righteous blow, Strength for the fight ! And when, at eventide, the fray is done, My soul to Death s bedchamber do thou light, And give me, be the field or lost or won, Rest from the fight ! no Farewell to Arcady. FAREWELL TO ARCADY. WITH sombre mien, the Evening gray Comes nagging at the heels of Day, And driven faster and still faster Before the dusky- mantled Master, The light fades from her fearful eyes, She hastens, stumbles, falls, and dies. Beside me Amaryllis weeps ; The swelling tears obscure the deeps Of her dark eyes, as, mistily, The rushing rain conceals the sea. Here, lay my tuneless reed away, I have no heart to tempt a lay. I scent the perfume of the rose Which by my crystal fountain grows. In this sad time, are roses blowing? And thou, my fountain, art thou flowing, 1 1 1 Lyrics of the Hearthside. While I who watched thy waters spring Am all too sad to smile or sing ? Nay, give me back my pipe again, It yet shall breathe this single strain : Farewell to Arcady ! 112 The Voice of the Banjo. THE VOICE OF THE BANJO. IN a small and lonely cabin out of noisy traffic s way, Sat an old man, bent and feeble, dusk of face, and hair of gray, And beside him on the table, battered, old, and worn as he, Lay a banjo, droning forth this reminiscent melody : " Night is closing in upon us, friend of mine, but don t be sad ; Let us think of all the pleasures and the joys that we have had. Let us keep a merry visage, and be happy till the last, Let the future still be sweetened with the honey of the past. 8 113 Lyrics of the Hearthside. " For I speak to you of summer nights upon the yellow sand, When the Southern moon was sailing high and silvering all the land ; And if love tales were not sacred, there s a tale that I could tell Of your many nightly wanderings with a dusk and lovely belle. " And I speak to you of care-free songs when labour s hour was o er, And a woman waiting for your step outside the cabin door, And of something roly-poly that you took upon your lap, While you listened for the stumbling, hesitating words, Pap, pap. " I could tell you of a possum hunt across the wooded grounds, I could call to mind the sweetness of the baying of the hounds, 114 The Voice of the Banjo. You could lift me up and smelling of the tim ber that s in me, Build again a whole green forest with the mem- ry of a tree. " So the future cannot hurt us while we keep the past in mind, What care I for trembling fingers, what care you that you are blind ? Time may leave us poor and stranded, circum stance may make us bend ; But they 11 only find us mellower, won t they, comrade ? in the end." Lyrics of the Hearthside. THE STIRRUP CUP. COME, drink a stirrup cup with me, Before we close our rouse. You re all aglow with wine, I know : The master of the house, Unmindful of our revelry, Has drowned the carking devil care, And slumbers in his chair. Come, drink a cup before we start ; We Ve far to ride to-night. And Death may take the race we make, And check our gallant flight : But even he must play his part, And tho the look he wears be grim, We 11 drink a toast to him ! For Death, a swift old chap is he, And swift the steed He rides. He needs no chart o er main or mart, 116 The Stirrup Cup. For no direction bides. So, come, a final cup with me, And let the soldiers chorus swell, To hell with care, to hell ! 117 Lyrics of the Hearthside. A CHOICE. / T" V HEY please me not these solemn songs JL That hint of sermons covered up. T is true the world should heed its wrongs, But in a poem let me sup, Not simples brewed to cure or ease Humanity s confessed disease, But the spirit-wine of a singing line, Or a dew-drop in a honey cup ! 118 HUMOUR AND DIALECT. THEN AND NOW. THEN. HE loved her, and through many years, Had paid his fair devoted court, Until she wearied, and with sneers Turned all his ardent love to sport. That night within his chamber lone, He long sat writing by his bed A note in which his heart made moan For love ; the morning found him dead. NOW. Like him, a man of later day Was jilted by the maid he sought, And from her presence turned away, Consumed by burning, bitter thought. 119 Lyrics of the Hearthside. He sought his room to write a curse Like him before and die, I ween. Ah no, he put his woes in verse, And sold them to a magazine. 120 At Cheshire Cheese. AT CHESHIRE CHEESE. WHEN first of wise old Johnson taught, My youthful mind its homage brought, And made the pond rous, crusty sage The object of a noble rage. Nor did I think (How dense we are !) That any day, however far, Would find me holding, unrepelled, The place that Doctor Johnson held ! But change has come and time has moved, And now, applauded, unreproved, I hold, with pardonable pride, The place that Johnson occupied. Conceit ! Presumption ! What is this? You surely read my words amiss ; Like Johnson I, a man of mind ! How could you ever be so blind ? 121 Lyrics of the Hearthside. No. At the ancient " Cheshire Cheese," Blown hither by some vagrant breeze, To dignify my shallow wit, In Doctor Johnson s seat I sit ! 122 My Corn-Cob Pipe. MY CORN-COB PIPE. MEN may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars The real or fancied virtues of their foreign-made cigars ; But I worship Nicotina at a different sort of shrine, And she sits enthroned in glory in this corn-cob pipe of mine. It s as fragrant as the meadows when the clover is in bloom ; It s as dainty as the essence of the daintiest perfume ; It s as sweet as are the orchards when the fruit is hanging ripe, With the sun s warm kiss upon them is this corn-cob pipe. 123 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Thro the smoke about it clinging, I delight its form to trace, Like an oriental beauty with a veil upon her face; And my room is dim with vapour as a church when censers sway, As I clasp it to my bosom in a figurative way. It consoles me in misfortune and it cheers me in distress, And it proves a warm partaker of my pleasures in success ; So I hail it as a symbol, friendship s true and worthy type, And I press my lips devoutly to my corn-cob pipe. 124 In August IN AUGUST. WHEN August days are hot an dry, When burning copper is the sky, I d rather fish than feast or fly In airy realms serene and high. I d take a suit not made for looks, Some easily digested books, Some flies, some lines, some bait, some hooks, Then would I seek the bays and brooks. I would eschew mine every task, In Nature s smiles my soul should bask, And I methinks no more could ask, Except perhaps one little flask. In case of accident, you know, Or should the wind come on to blow, Or I be chilled or capsized, so, A flask would be the only go. "5 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Then could I spend a happy time, A bit of sport, a bit of rhyme (A bit of lemon, or of lime, To make my bottle s contents prime). When August days are hot an dry, I won t sit by an sigh or die, I 11 get my bottle (on the sly) And go ahead, and fish, and lie ! 126 The Disturber. THE DISTURBER. OH, what shall I do ? I am wholly upset ; I am sure I 11 be jailed for a lunatic yet. I 11 be out of a job it s the thing to expect When I m letting my duty go by with neglect. You may judge the extent and degree of my plight When I m thinking all day and a-dreaming all night, And a-trying my hand at a rhyme on the sly, All on account of a sparkling eye. There are those who say men should be strong, well-a-day ! But what constitutes strength in a man? Who shall say? I am strong as the most when it comes to the arm. I have aye held my own on the playground or farm. 127 Lyrics of the Hearthside. And when I ve been tempted, I have n t been weak; But now why, I tremble to hear a maid speak. I used to be bold, but now I Ve grown shy, And all on account of a sparkling eye. There once was a time when my heart was devout, But now my religion is open to doubt. When parson is earnestly preaching of grace, My fancy is busy with drawing a face, Thro the back of a bonnet most piously plain ; I draw it, redraw it, and draw it again. While the songs and the sermon unheeded go by, All on account of a sparkling eye. Oh, dear little conjurer, give o er your wiles, It is easy for you, you re all blushes and smiles : But, love of my heart, I am sorely perplexed ; I am smiling one minute and sighing the next ; 128 The Disturber. And if it goes on, I 11 drop hackle and flail, And go to the parson and tell him my tale. I warrant he 11 find me a cure for the sigh That you re aye bringing forth with the glance of your eye. 129 Lyrics of the Hearthside. EXPECTATION. YOU LL be wonderin whut s de reason I J s a grinnin all de time, An I guess you t ink my sperits Mus be feelin mighty prime. Well, I fess up, I is tickled As a puppy at his paws. But you need n t think I s crazy, I ain laffin dout a cause. You s a wonderin too, I reckon, Why I does n t seem to eat, An I notice you a lookin Lak you felt completely beat When I fuse to tek de bacon, An don settle on de ham. Don you feel no feah erbout me, Jes keep eatin , an be ca m. Fu I s waitin an I s watchin* Bout a little t ing I see 130 Expectation. D othah night I s out a walkin An I passed a simmon tree. Now I s whettin up my hongry, An I s laffin fit to kill, Fu de fros done turned de simmons, An de possum s eat his fill. He done go ged hisse f owdacious, An he stayin by de tree ! Don you know, ol Mistah Possum Dat you gittin fat fu me? Tain t no use to try to spute it, Case I knows you s gittin sweet Wif dat simmon flavoh thoo you, So I s waitin fu yo meat. An some ebenin me an Towsah Gwine to come an mek a call, We jes drap in onexpected Fu to shek yo han , dat s all. Oh, I knows dat you 11 be tickled, Seems lak I kin see you smile, So pu haps I mought pu suade you Fu to visit us a while. Lyrics of the Hearthside. LOVER S LANE. QUMMAH night an sighin breeze, V_) Long de lovah s lane ; Frien ly, shadder-mekin trees, Long de lovah s lane. White folks wo k all done up gran Me an Mandy han -in-han Struttin lak we owned de Ian , Long de lovah s lane. Owl a-settin side de road, Long de lovah s lane, Lookin at us lak he knowed Dis uz lovah s lane. Go on, hoot yo mou nful tune, You ain* nevah loved in June, An come hidin* f om de moon Down in lovah s lane, 132 Lover s Lane. Bush it ben an nod an sway, Down in lovah s lane, Try n to hyeah me whut I say Long de lovah s lane. But I whispahs low lak dis, An my Mandy smile huh bliss Mistah Bush he shek his fis , Down in lovah s lane. Whut I keer ef day is long, Down in lovah s lane. I kin allus sing a song Long de lovah s lane. An de wo ds I hyeah an say Meks up fu de weary day Wen I s strollin by de way, Down in lovah s lane. An dis t ought will allus rise Down in lovah s lane : Wonclah whethah in de skies Dey s a lovah s lane. 133 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Ef dey ain t, I tell you true, Ligion do look mighty blue, Cause I do know whut I d do Dout a lovah s lane. 134 Protest. PROTEST. WHO say my hea t ain t true to you? Dey bettah heish dey mouf. I knows I loves you thoo an thoo In watah time er drouf. I wush dese people d stop dey talkin , Don t mean no mo dan chicken s squawkin I guess I knows which way I s walkin , I knows de norf f om souf. I does not love Elizy Brown, I guess I knows my min . You allus try to tek me down Wid evaht ing you fin . Ef dese hyeah folks will keep on fillin Yo haid wid nonsene, an you s willin I bet some day dey 11 be a killin Somewhaih along de line. 35 Lyrics of the Hearthside. O cose I buys de gal ice-cream, Whut else I gwine to do ? I knows jes how de t ing u d seem Ef I d be sho t wid you. On Sunday, you s at chu ch a-shoutin , Den all de week you go roun poutin - I s mighty tiahed o all dis doubtin , I tell you cause I s true. 136 Hymn HYMN. OLI L lamb out in de col , De Mastah call you to de foP, O li P lamb ! He hyeah you bleatin on de hill ; Come hyeah an keep yo* mou nin still, O li P lamb ! De Mastah sen de Shepud fo f ; He wandah souf, he wandah no f, O li P lamb ! He wandah eas , he wandah wes ; De win* a-wrenchin at his breas , O li P lamb ! Oh, tell de Shepud whaih you hide ; He want you walkin by his side, O li P lamb ! He know you weak, he know you so ; But come, don stay away no mo , O li P lamb ! 137 Lyrics of the Hearthside. An af ah while de lamb he hyeah De Shepud s voice a-callin cleah Sweet liT lamb ! He answah f om de brambles thick, " O Shepud, I s a-comin quick " O liT lamb ! 138 Little Brown Baby. LITTLE BROWN BABY. T ITTLE brown baby wif spa klin eyes, .L/ Come to yo pappy an set on his knee. What you been doin , suh makin san pies? Look at dat bib you s ez du ty ez me. Look at dat mouf dat s merlasses, I bet ; Come hyeah, Maria, an wipe off his han s. Bees gwine to ketch you an eat you up yit, Bein so sticky an sweet goodness lan s ! Little brown baby wif spa klin eyes, Who s pappy s darlin an who s pappy s chile? Who is it all de day nevah once tries Fu to be cross, er once loses dat smile ? Whah did you git dem teef? My, you s a scamp ! Whah did dat dimple come f om in yo chin ? Pappy do know yo I b lieves you s a tramp ; Mammy, dis hyeah s some ol straggler got in ! Lyrics of the Hearth side. Let s th ow him outen de do in de san , We do want stragglers a-layin roun hyeah ; Let s gin him way to de big buggah-man ; I know he s hidin erroun hyeah right neah. Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do , Hyeah s a bad boy you kin have fu to eat. Mammy an pappy do want him no mo , Swaller him down f om his haid to his feet ! Dah, now, I t ought dat you d hug me up close. Go back, ol buggah, you sha n t have dis boy. He ain t no tramp, ner no straggler, of co se ; He s pappy s pa dner an playmate an joy. Come to you pallet now go to yo res ; Wisht you could allus know ease an cleah skies ; Wisht you could stay jes a chile on my breas Little brown baby wif spa klin eyes ! 140 Time to Tinker Roun ! TIME TO TINKER ROUN ! SUMMAH S nice, wif sun a-shinin , Spring is good wif greens and grass, An dey s some t ings nice bout wintah, Dough hit brings de freezin bias ; But de time dat is de fines , Whethah fiel s is green er brown, Is w en de rain s a-po in An dey s time to tinker roun. Den you men s de mule s oF ha ness, An you men s de broken chair. Hummin all de time you s wo kin* Some ol* common kind o* air. Evah now an* then you looks out, Tryin mighty ha d to frown, But you cain t, you s glad hit s rainin , An dey s time to tinker roun . 141 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Oh, you ten s lak you so anxious Evah time it so t o stops. Wen hit goes on, den you reckon Dat de wet 11 he p de crops. But hit ain t de crops you s aftah ; You knows w en de rain comes down Dat s hit s too wet out fu wo kin , An dey s time to tinker roun . Oh, dey s fun inside de co n-crib, An dey s laffin at de ba n ; An dey s allus some one jokin , Er some one to tell a ya n. Dah s a quiet in yo cabin, Only fu de rain s sof soun ; So you s mighty blessed happy W en dey s time to tinker roun ! 142 The Real Question. THE REAL QUESTION. FOLKS is talkin bout de money, bout de silvah an de gold ; All de time de season s changin an de days is gittin cold. An dey s wond rin bout de metals, whethah we 11 have one er two. While de price o coal is risin an dey s two months rent dat s due. Some folks says dat gold s de only money dat is wuff de name, Den de othahs rise an tell em dat dey ought to be ashame, An dat silvah is de only thing to save us f om de powah Of de gold-bug ragin roun an seekin who he may devowah. Lyrics of the Hearthside. Well, you folks kin keep on shoutin wif yo gold er silvah cry, But I tell you people hams is sceerce an fowls is roostin high. An hit ain t de so t o money dat is pesterin my min , But de question I want answehed s how to get at any kin ! 144 Jilted. JILTED. LUCY done gone back on me, Dat s de way wif life. Evaht ing was movin free, T ought I had my wife. Den some dahky comes along, Sings my gal a little song, Since den, evaht ing s gone wrong, Evah day dey s strife. Did n t answeh me to-day, Wen I called huh name, Would you t ink she d ac dat way Wen I ain t to blame ? Dat s de way dese women do, Wen dey fin s a fellow true, Den dey buse him thoo an thoo ; Well, hit s all de same. 10 145 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Somep n s wrong erbout my lung, An I s glad hit s so. Doctah says at I 11 die young, Well, I wants to go ! Whut s de use o livin hyeah, Wen de gal you loves so deah, Goes back on you clean an cleah I sh d like to know? 146 The News. THE NEWS. WHUT dat you whisperin keepin fom me ? Don t shut me out cause I s oP an can t see. Somep n* s gone wrong dat s a-causin you dread, Don t be afeared to tell Whut ! mastah dead? Somebody brung de news early to-day, One of de sojers he led, do you say? Didn t he foller whah ol mastah led? How kin he live w en his leadah is dead? Let me lay down awhile, dah by his bed ; I wants to t ink, hit ain t cleah in my head : Killed while a-leadin his men into fight, Dat s whut you said, ain t it, did I hyeah right? Lyrics of the Hearthside. Mastah, my mastah, dead dah in de fiel ? Lif me up some, dah, jes so I kin kneel. I was too weak to go wid him, dey said, Well, now I 11 fin him so mastah is dead. Yes, suh, I s comin ez fas ez I kin, Twas kin o da k, but hit s lightah agin : P omised yo pappy I d allus tek keer Of you, yes, mastah, I s follerin , hyeah ! 148 Chrismus on the Plantation. CHRISMUS ON THE PLANTATION. i T was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu a mighty gloomy day Bofe de weathah an de people not a one of us was gay ; Cose you 11 t ink dat s mighty funny twell I try to mek hit cleah, Fu a da ky s allus happy when de holidays is neah. But we was n t, fu dat mo nin Mastah *d tol us we mus go, He d been payin us sence freedom, but he could n t pay no mo ; He wa n t nevah used to plannin fo he got so po an ol , So he gwine to give up tryin , an de homestead mus be sol . 149 Lyrics of the Hearthside. I kin see him stan in now erpon de step ez cleah ez day, Wid de win a -kind o fondlin thoo his haih all thin an gray ; An I membah how he trimbled when he said, " It s ha d fu me, Not to mek yo Chrismus brightah, but I low it wa n t to be." All de women was a-cryin , an de men, too, on de sly, An I noticed somep n shinin even in oF Mas- tah s eye. But we all stood still to listen ez oF Ben come f om de crowd An spoke up, a-try n to steady down his voice and mek it loud : " Look hyeah, Mastah, I s been servin you fu lo ! dese many yeahs, An now, sence we s got freedom an you s kind o po , hit pears Chrismus on the Plantation. Dat you want us all to leave you cause you don t t ink you can pay. Ef my merabry has n t fooled me, seem dat whut I hyead you say. " Er in othah wo ds, you wants us to fu git dat you s been kin , An ez soon ez you is he pless, we s to leave you hyeah behin . Well, ef dat s de way dis freedom ac s on peo ple, white er black, You kin jes tell Mistah Lincum fu to tek his freedom back. " We gwine wo k dis ol f plantation fu whatevah we kin git, Fu I know hit did suppo t us, an de place kin do it yit. Now de land is yo s, de hands is ouahs, an I reckon we 11 -be brave, An we 11 bah ez much ez you do w en we has to scrape an ^ave." Lyrics of the Hearthside. OP Mastah stood dah trimblin , but a-smilin thoo his teahs, An den hit seemed jes nachul-like, de place fah rung wid cheahs, An soon ez dey was quiet, some one sta ted sof an low : " Praise God," an den we all jined in, " from whom all blessin s flow! " Well, dey was n t no use tryin , ouah min s was sot to stay, An po ol* Mastah could n t plead ner baig, ner drive us way, An all at once, hit seemed to us, de day was bright agin, So evahone was gay dat night, an watched de Chrismus in. Angelina. ANGELINA. WHEN de fiddle gits to singin out a ol Vahginny reel, An you mence to feel a ticklin in yo toe an in yo heel ; Ef you t ink you got uligion an you wants to keep it, too, You jes bettah tek a hint an git yo self clean out o view. Case de time is mighty temptin when de chune is in de swing, Fu a darky, saint or sinner man, to cut de pigeon-wing. An you could n t he p fom dancin ef yo feet was boun wif twine, When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin down de line. Don t you know Miss Angelina? She s de da lin of de place. VV y, dey ain t no high-toned lady wif sich man- nahs an sich grace. 153 Lyrics of the Hearthside. She kin move across de cabin, wif its planks all rough an wo* ; Jes de same s ef she was dancin on ol mistus ball-room flo . Fact is, you do see no cabin evaht ing you see look grand, An dat one ol squeaky fiddle soun to you jes lak a ban ; Cotton britches look lak broadclof an a linsey dress look fine, When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin down de line. Some folks say dat dancin s sinful, an de blessed Lawd, dey say, Gwine to purnish us fu steppin w en we hyeah de music play. But I tell you I don b lieve it, fu de Lawd is wise and good, An he made de banjo s metal an he made de riddle s wood, An he made de music in dem, so I don quite t ink he 11 keer 154 Angelina. Ef our feet keeps time a little to de melodies we hyeah. W y, dey s somep n downright holy in de way our faces shine, When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin down de line. Angelina steps so gentle, Angelina bows so low, An she lif huh sku t so dainty dat huh shoetop skacely show : An dem teef o huh n a-shinin , ez she tek you by de han Go way, people, d ain t anothah sich a lady in de Ian ! When she s movin thoo de figgers er a-dancin by huhse f, Folks jes stan stock-still a-sta in , an dey mos nigh hoi s dey bref ; An de young mens, dey s a-sayin , " I s gwine mek dat damsel mine," When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin down de line. 155 Lyrics of the Hearthside. FOOLIN WID DE SEASONS. SEEMS lak folks is mighty curus In de way dey t inks an ac s. Dey jes spen s dey days a-mixin Up de t ings in almanacs. Now, I min my nex do neighbour, He s a mighty likely man, But he nevah t inks o nuffin Ceptin jes to plot an plan. All de wintah he was plannin How he d gethah sassafras Jes ez soon ez evah Springtime Put some greenness in de grass. An he lowed a little soonah He could stan a coolah breeze So s to mek a little money F om de sugah-watah trees. 156 Foolin wid de Seasons. In de summah, he d be waihin Out de linin of his soul, Try n to ca ci late an fashion How he d git his wintah coal : An I b lieve he got his jedgement Jes so tuckahed out an thinned Dat he t ought a robin s whistle Was de whistle of de wind. Why won t folks gin up dey plannin , An jes be content to know Dat dey s gittin all dat s fu dem In de days dat come an go? Why won t folks quit movin forrard ? Ain t hit bettah jes to stan An be satisfied wid livin In de season dat s at han ? Hit s enough fu me to listen Wen de birds is singin roun , Dout a-guessin whut 11 happen W en de snow is on de groun . 157 Lyrics of the Hearthside. In de Springtime an de summah, I lays sorrer on de she f ; An I knows ol Mistah Wintah Gvvine to hustle fu hisse f. We been put hyeah fu a pu pose, But de questun dat has riz An made lots o people diffah Is jes whut dat pu pose is. Now, accordin to my reas nin , Hyeah s de p int whaih I s arriv, Sence de Lawd put life into us, We was put hyeah fu to live ! 158 My Sort o Man. MY SORT O MAN. I DON T believe in ristercrats An never did, you see ; The plain oP homelike sorter folks Is good enough fur me. O course, I don t desire a man To be too tarnal rough, But then, I think all folks should know When they air nice enough. Now there is folks in this here world, From peasant up to king, Who want to be so awful nice They overdo the thing. That s jest the thing that makes me sick, An quicker n a wink I set it down that them same folks Ain t half so good s you think. 159 Lyrics of the Hearthside. I like to see a man dress nice, In clothes becomin too ; I like to see a woman fix As women orter to do ; An* boys an gals I like to see Look fresh an young an spry, We all must have our vanity An pride before we die. But I jedge no man by his clothes, Nor gentleman nor tramp ; The man that wears the finest suit May be the biggest scamp, An he whose limbs air clad in rags That make a mournful sight, In life s great battle may have proved A hero in the fight. I don t believe in ristercrats ; I like the honest tan That lies upon the heathful cheek An speaks the honest man ; 160 My Sort o Man. I like to grasp the brawny hand That labor s lips have kissed, For he who has not labored here Life s greatest pride has missed : The pride to feel that yore own strength Has cleaved fur you the way To heights to which you were not born, But struggled day by day. What though the thousands sneer an scoff, An scorn yore humble birth? Kings are but puppets ; you are king By right o royal worth. The man who simply sits an waits Fur good to come along, Ain t worth the breath that one would take To tell him he is wrong. Fur good ain t flowin round this world Fur every fool to sup ; You ve got to put yore see-ers on, An go an hunt it up. ii 161 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Good goes with honesty, I say, To honour an to bless ; To rich an poor alike it brings A wealth o happiness. The ristercrats ain t got it all, Fur much to their su prise, That s one of earth s most blessed things They can t monopolize. 162 Possum. POSSUM. EF dey s anyt ing dat riles me An jes gits me out o hitch, Twell I want to tek my coat off, So s to r ar an far an pitch, Hit s to see some ign ant white man Mittin dat owdacious sin Wen he want to cook a possum Tekin off de possum s skin. W y, dey ain t no use in talkin , Hit jes hu ts me to de hea t Fu to see dem foolish people Th owin way de fines pa t. W y, dat skin is jes ez tendah An ez juicy ez kin be ; I knows all erbout de critter Hide an haih don t talk to me ! 163 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin ; Jes you swinge an scrope it down, Tek a good sha p knife an sco it, Den you bake it good an brown. Huh-uh ! honey, you s so happy Dat yo thoughts is mos a sin When you s settin dah a-chawin On dat possum s cracklin skin. White folks t ink dey know bout eatin , An I reckon dat dey do Sometimes git a little idee Of a middlin dish er two ; But dey ain t a t ing dey knows of Dat I reckon cain t be beat Wen we set down at de table To a unskun possum s meat ! 164 On the Road. ON THE ROAD. T S boun to see my gal to-night * Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! De moon ain t out, de stars ain t bright Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! Dis hoss o mine is pow ful slow, But when I does git to yo do Yo kiss 11 pay me back, an mo , Dough lone de way, my dearie. De night is skeery-lak an still Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! Cept fu dat mou nful whippo will Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! De way so long wif dis slow pace, T u d seem to me lak savin grace Ef you was on a nearer place, Fu lone de way, my dearie. 165 Lyrics of the H earths! de. I hyeah de hootin of de owl Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! I wish dat watch-dog wouldn t howl- Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! An evaht ing, bofe right an lef , Seem p int ly lak hit put itse f In shape to skeer me half to def Oh, lone de way, my dearie ! I whistles so s I won t be feared Oh lone de way, my dearie ! But anyhow I s kin o skeered, Fu lone de way, my dearie. De sky been lookin mighty glum, But you kin mek hit lighten some, Ef you 11 jes say you s glad I come, Dough lone de way, my dearie. 166 A Death Song. A DEATH SONG. LAY me down beneaf de willers in de grass, Whah de branch 11 go a-singin as it pass. An w en I s a-layin low, I kin hyeah it as it go Singin , " Sleep, my honey, tek yo res at las ." Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool, An de watah Stan s so quiet lak an cool, Whah de little birds in spring, Ust to come an drink an sing, An de chillen waded on dey way to school. Let me settle w en my shouldahs draps dey load Nigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road ; Fu I t ink de las long res Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes Ef I s layin mong de t ings I s allus knowed. 167 Lyrics of the Hearthside. A BACK-LOG SONG. 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, An dey s laid hit down and soaked it in de crik. Den dey tuk hit to de big house an dey piled de wood erroun In de nah-place f om ash-flo to de flue, While ol Ezry sta ts de hymn dat evah yeah has got to soun When de back-log fus commence a-bu nin thoo. Ol Mastah is a-smilin on de da kies f om de hall, Ol Mistus is a-stannin in de do , 168 A Back-Log Song. An de young folks, males an misses, is a-tryin , one an all, Fu to mek us feel hit s Chrismus time fu sho . An ouah hea ts are full of pleasure, fu we know de time is ouahs Fu to dance er do jes whut we wants to do. An dey ain t no ovahseer an no othah kind o powahs Dat kin stop us while dat log is bu nin thoo. Dey s a-wokin in de qua tahs a-preparin fu de feas , So de little pigs is feelin kind o shy. De chickens ain t so trus ful ez dey was, to say de leas , An de wise ol hens is roostin mighty high. You could n t git a gobblah fu to look you in de face- I ain t sayin whut de tu ky spects is true ; But hit s mighty dange ous trav lin fu de critters on de place F om de time dat log commence a bu nin thoo. 169 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Some one s tunin up his fiddle dah, I hyeah a banjo s ring, An , bless me, dat s de tootin of a ho n ! Now dey 11 evah one be runnin dat has got a foot to fling, An dey 11 dance an frolic on Pom now twell mo n. Plunk de banjo, scrap de fiddle, blow dat ho- n yo level bes , Keep yo min erpon de chune an step it true. Oh, dey ain t no time fu stoppin an dey ain t no time fu res , Fu hit s Chrismus an de back- log s bu nhY thoo ! 170 Lullaby. LULLABY. T) E DTI ME S come fu little boys. Jj Po little lamb. Too tiahed out to make a noise, Po little lamb. You gwine t have to-morrer sho ? Yes, you tole me dat befo , Don t you fool me, chile, no mo , Po little lamb. You been bad de livelong day, Po little lamb. Th owin stones an runnin way, Po little lamb. My, but you s a-runnin wil 1 , Look jes lak some po folks chile ; Mam gwine whup you alter while, Po little lamb. Come hyeah ! you mos tiahed to def, Po little lamb. 171 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Played yo se f clean out o bref, Po little lamb. See dem ban s now sich a sight ! Would you evah b lieve dey s white? Stan still twell I wash em right, Po little lamb. Jes cain t hoi yo haid up straight, Po little lamb. Had n t oughter played so late, Po little lamb. Mammy do know whut she d do, Ef de chillun s all lak you ; You s a caution now fu true, Po little lamb. Lay yo haid down in my lap, Po little lamb. Y ought to have a right good slap, Po little lamb. You been runnin roun a heap. Shet dem eyes an don t you peep, Dah now, dah now, go to sleep, Po little lamb. 172 The Photograph. THE PHOTOGRAPH. SEE dis pictyah in my ban ? Dat s my gal ; Ain t she purty? goodness Ian ! Huh name Sal. Dat s de very way she be Kin o tickles me to see Huh a-smilin back at me. She sont me dis photygraph Jes las week; An aldough hit made me laugh My black cheek Felt somethin a-runnin queer; Bless yo soul, it was a tear Jes f om wishin she was here. Often when I s all alone Layin here, I git t inkin bout my own Sallie dear ; T 73 Lyrics of the Hearthside. How she say dat I s huh beau, An hit tickles me to know Dat de gal do love me so. Some bright day I s goin back, Fo de la ! An ez sho s my face is black, Ax huh pa Fu de blessed little miss Who s a-smilin out o dis Pictyah, lak she wan ed a kiss ! 174 Jealous. JEALOUS. HYEAH come Caesar Higgins, Don t he think he s fine? Look at dem new riggin s Ain t he tryin to shine? Got a standin collar An a stove-pipe hat, I 11 jes bet a dollar Some one gin him dat. Don t one o you mention, Nothin bout his does, Don t pay no attention, Er let on you knows Dat he s got em on him, Why, t 11 mek him sick, Jes go on an sco n him, My, ain t dis a trick ! Lyrics of the Hearthside. Look hyeah, whut s he doin Lookin t othah way? Dat ere move s a new one, Some one call him, " Say ! " Can t you see no pusson Puttin on you airs, Sakes alive, you s wuss n Dese hyeah millionaires. Need n t git so flighty, Case you got dat suit. Dem does ain t so mighty, Second hand to boot, I s a-tryin to spite you ! Full of jealousy ! Look hyeah, man, I 11 fight you, Don t you fool wid me ! 176 Parted. PARTED. DE breeze is blowin Across de bay. My lady, my lady ; De ship hit teks me far away, My lady, my lady. Ole Mas done sol me down de stream ; Dey tell me t ain t so bad s hit seem, My lady, my lady. O co se I knows dat you 11 be true, My lady, my lady ; But den I do know whut to do, My lady, my lady. I knowed some day we d have to pa t, But den hit put nigh breaks my hea t, My lady, my lady. 177 Lyrics of the Hearthside. De day is long, de night is black, My lady, my lady ; I know you 11 wait twell I come back, My lady, my lady. I 11 stan de ship, I 11 stan de chain, But I 11 come back, my darlin Jane, My lady, my lady. Jes wait, jes b lieve in whut I say, My lady, my lady ; D ain t nothin dat kin keep me way, My lady, my lady. A man s a man, an love is love ; God knows ouah hea ts, my little dove ; He 11 he p us fom his th one above, My lady, my lady. 178 Temptation. I TEMPTATION. DONE got uligion, honey, an I s happy ez a king; Evahthing I see erbout me s jes lak sunshine in de spring ; An it seems lak I do want to do anothah blessid thing But jes run an tell de neighbours, an to shout an pray an sing. I done shuk my fis at Satan, an I s gin de worl my back ; I do want no hendrin causes now a-both rin in my track ; Fu I s on my way to glory, an I feels too sho to miss. V/ y, dey ain t no use in sinnin when uligion s sweet ez dis. 179 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Talk erbout a man backslidin w en he s on de gospel way ; No, suh, I done beat de debbil, an Temptation s los de day. Gwine to keep my eyes right straight up, gwine to shet my eahs, an see Whut ole projick Mistah Satan s gwine to try to wuk on me. Listen, whut dat soun I hyeah dah? tain t no one commence to sing ; It s a fiddle ; git erway dah ! don you hyeah dat blessid thing? W y, dat s sweet ez drippin honey, cause, you knows, I draws de bow, An when music s sho nough music, I s de one dat s sho to know. W y, I s done de double shuffle, twell a body could n t res , Jes a-hyeahin Sam de fiddlah play dat chune his level bes ; 180 Temptation. I could cut a mighty caper, I could gin a mighty fling Jes right now, I s mo dan suttain I could cut de pigeon wing. Look hyeah, whut s dis I s been sayin ? whut on urf s tuk holt o me? Dat ole music come nigh runnin my uligion up a tree ! Cleah out wif dat dah ole fiddle, don you try dat trick agin ; Did n t think I could be tempted, but you lak to made me sin ! 181 Lyrics of the Hearthside. POSSUM TROT. I VE journeyed roun consid able, a-seein men an things, An I ve learned a little of the sense that meetin people brings ; But in spite of all my travelling an of all I think I know, I ve got one notion in my head, that I can t git to go; An it is that the folks I meet in any other spot Ain t half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot. I know you Ve never heerd the name, it ain t a famous place, An I reckon ef you d search the map you could n t find a trace Of any sich locality as this I Ve named to you ; But never mind, I know the place, an I love it dearly too. 182 Possum Trot. It don t make no pretensions to bein great or fine, The circuses don t come that way, they ain t no railroad line. It ain t no great big city, where the schemers plan an plot, But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot. But don t you think the folks that lived in that outlandish place Were ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace. Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin earth An never find a sweeter girl, er one o greater worth ; An Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin on his staff, It seems like I kin hear him talk, an hear his hearty laugh. His heart was big an cheery as a sunny acre lot, Why, that s the kind o folks we had down there at Possum Trot. 183 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Good times ? Well, now, to suit my taste, an I m some hard to suit, There ain t been no sich pleasure sence, an* won t be none to boot, With buskin bees in Harvest time, an dances later on, An singin school, an taffy pulls, an fun from night till dawn. Revivals come in winter time, baptizin s in the spring, You d ought to seen those people shout, an heerd em pray an sing; You d ought to Ve heard ole Parson Brown a- thro win gospel shot Among the saints an sinners in the days of Possum Trot. We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come ; I hear aroun me day by day the endless stir an hum. I reckon that it done me good, an yet it done me harm, . 184 Possum Trot. That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm. We ve got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too, An I ve come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew. But often when I m settin there, it s foolish, like as not, To think of them oP benches in the church at Possum Trot. I know that I m ungrateful, an sich thoughts must be a sin, But I find myself a wishin that the times was back agin. With the huskin s an the frolics, an the joys I used to know, When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago. I don t feel this way often, I m scarcely ever glum, For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come. 185 Lyrics of the Hearthside. But now an then my mind goes back to that oP buryin plot, That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot. 186 Dely. DELY. JES lak toddy wahms you thoo Sets yo haid a reelin , Meks you ovah good and new, Dat s de way I s feelin . Seems to me hit s summah time, Dough hit s wintah reely, I s a feelin jes dat prime An* huh name is Dely. Dis hyeah love s a cu rus thing, Changes roun de season, Meks you sad or meks you sing, Dout no urfly reason. Sometimes I go mopin roun , Den agin I s leapin ; Sperits allus up an down Even when I s sleepin*. 187 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Fu de dreams comes to me den, An dey keeps me pitchin , Lak de apple dumplin s w en Bilin in de kitchen. Some one sot to do me hahm, Tryin to ovahcome me, Ketchin Dely by de ahm So s to tek huh f om me. Mon, you bettah b lieve I fights (Dough hit s on y seemin ) ; I s a hittin fu my rights Even w en I s dreamin . But I d let you have em all, Give em to you freely, Good an bad ones, great an small, So s you leave me Dely. Dely got dem meltin eyes, Big an black an tendah. Dely jes a lady-size, Delikit an slendah. 1 88 Dely. Dely brown ez brown kin be An huh haih is curly ; Oh, she look so sweet to me, Bless de precious girlie ! Dely brown ez brown kin be, She am no mullatter ; She pure cullud, don you see Dat s jes whut s de mattah? Dat s de why I love huh so, D* ain t no mix about huh, Soon s you see huh face you know D ain t no chanst to doubt huh. Folks dey go to chu ch an pray So s to git a blessin . Oomph, dey bettah come my way, Dey could lu n a lesson. Sabbaf day I don go fu , Jes to see my pigeon ; I jes sets an looks at huh, Dat s enuff uligion. 189 Lyrics of the Hearthside. BREAKING THE CHARM. CAUGHT Susanner whistlin ; well, It s most nigh too good to tell. Twould a b en too good to see Ef it had n t b en fur me, Comin up so soft an sly That she didn hear me nigh. I was pokin* round that day, An ez I come down the way, First her whistle strikes my ears, Then her gingham dress appears ; So with soft step up I slips. Oh, them dewy, rosy lips ! Ripe ez cherries, red an round, Puckered up to make the sound. She was lookin in the spring, Whistlin to beat anything, " Kitty Dale " er " In the Sweet." I was jest so mortal beat IQO Breaking the Charm. That I can t quite ricoleck What the toon was, but I speck T was some hymn er other, fur Hymny things is jest like her. Well she went on fur awhile With her face all in a smile, An I never moved, but stood Stiller n a piepe o wood Would n t wink ner would n t stir, But a-gazin right at her, Tell she turns an sees me my ! Thought at first she d try to fly. But she blushed an stood her ground. Then, a-slyly lookin round, She says : " Did you hear me, Ben? " " Whistlin woman, crowin hen," Says I, lookin awful stern. Then the red commenced to burn In them cheeks o hern. Why, la ! Reddest red you ever saw Pineys wa n t a circumstance. You d a noticed in a glance She was pow rful shamed an skeart ; 191 Lyrics of the Hearthside. But she looked so sweet an peart, That a idee struck my head ; So I up an slowly said : " Woman whistlin brings shore harm, Jest one thing 11 break the charm." " And what s that? " " Oh my ! " says I, " I don t like to tell you." " Why? " Says Susanner. " Well, you see It would kinder fall on me." Course I knowed that she d insist, So I says : " You must be kissed By the man that heard you whistle ; Everybody says that this 11 Break the charm and set you free From the threat nin penalty." She was blushin fit to kill, But she answered, kinder still : " I don t want to have no harm, Please come, Ben, an break the charm." Did I break that charm ? oh, well, There s some things I must n t tell. I remember, afterwhile, Her a-sayin with a smile : 192 Breaking the Charm. " Oh, you quit, you sassy dunce, You jest caught me whistlin once" Ev ry sence that when I hear Some one whistlin kinder clear, I most break my neck to see Ef it s Susy ; but, dear me, I jest find I ve b en to chase Some blamed boy about the place. Dad s b en noticin my way, An last night I heerd him say : " We must send fur Dr. Glenn, Mother ; somethin s wrong with Ben ! " 3 193 Lyrics of the Hearthside. HUNTING SONG. TEK a cool night, good an cleah, Skiff o snow upon de groun ; Jes bout fall-time o de yeah Wen de leaves is dry an brown ; Tek a dog an tek a axe, Tek a lantu n in yo han , Step light whah de switches cracks, Fu dey s huntin in de Ian . Down thoo de valleys an ovah de hills, Into de woods whah de simmon-tree grows, Wakin an skeerin de po whippo wills, Huntin fu coon an fu possum we goes. Blow dat ho n dah loud an strong, Call de dogs an da kies neah ; Mek its music cleah an long, So de folks at home kin hyeah. 194 Hunting Song. Blow it twell de hills an trees Sen s de echoes tumblin back ; Blow it twell de back ard breeze Tells de folks we s on de track. Coons is a-ramblin an possums is out ; Look at dat dog ; you could set on his tail ! Watch him now steady, min what you s about, Bless me, dat animal s got on de trail ! Listen to him ba kin now ! Dat means bus ness, sho s you bo n ; Ef he s struck de scent I low Dat ere possum s sholy gone. Knowed dat dog fu fo teen yeahs, An I nevah seed him fail Wen he sot dem flappin eahs An went off upon a trail. Run, Mistah Possum, an run, Mistah Coon, No place is safe fu yo ramblin to-night ; Mas gin de lantu n an God gin de moon, An a long hunt gins a good appetite. 195 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change? Dat ba k is sha per dan de res . Dat ere soun ain t nothin strange, Dat dog s talked his level bes . Somep n s treed, I know de soun . Dah now, wha d I tell you ? see ! Dat ere dog done run him down ; Come hyeah, he p cut down dis tree. Ah, Mistah Possum, we got you at las Need n t play daid, laying dah on de groun ; Fros an de simmons has made you grow fas , Won t he be fine when he s roasted up brown ! 196 A Letter. A LETTER. 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 Fu to let you know my feelin s since I retched dis furrin Ian . I s right well, I s glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain t to blame), An I hopes w en dese lines reach you, dat dey 11 fin yo se f de same. Cose I se feelin kin o homesick dat s ez nachul ez kin be, W en a feller s mo n th ee thousand miles across dat awful sea. (Don t you let nobidy fool you bout de ocean bein gran ; 197 Lyrics of the Hearthside. If you want to see de billers, you jes view dem f om de Ian .) Bout de people? We been t inkin dat all white folks was alak ; But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an dey s curus fu a fac . Fust, dey s heavier an redder in dey make-up an dey looks, An dey don t put salt nor pepper in a blessed t ing dey cooks ! Wen dey gin you good ol tu nips, ca ots, pa s- nips, beets, an sich, Ef dey ain t some one to tell you, you cain t stinguish which is which. Wen I t ought I se eatin chicken you may b lieve dis hyeah s a lie But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin rabbit pie. An dey d t ink dat you was crazy jes a reg - lar ravin loon, Ef you d speak erbout a possum or a piece o good ol coon. O, hit s mighty nice, dis trav lin , an I s kin o glad I come. 198 A Letter. But, I reckon, now I s willin fu to tek my way back home. I done see de Crystal Palace, an I s hyeahd dey string-band play, But I has n t seen no banjos layin nowhahs roun dis way. Jes gin ol 1 Jim Bowles a banjo, an he d not go very fu , Fo he d outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir. Evahbiddy dat I s met wif has been monst ous kin an good ; But I t ink I d lak it better to be down in Jones s wood, Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an me an Nelse, Dough my appetite ud call me, ef dey was n t nuffin else. I d jes lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin ; I s a-longin fu my chittlin s an my mustard greens ergin ; I s a-wishin fu some buttermilk, an co n braid, good an brown, 199 Lyrics of the Hearthside. An a drap o good oP bourbon fu to wash my feelin s down ! An I s comin back to see you jes as ehly as I kin, So you better not go spa kin wif dat wuffless scoun el Quin ! Well, I reckon, I mus close now ; write ez soon s dis reaches you ; Gi my love to Sister Mandy an to Uncle Isham, too. Tell de folks I sen em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an mam ; Closin I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo Own True-Lovin SAM. P. S. Ef you cain t mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she f, An when I git home, I 11 read, it, darlin , to you my own se f. 200 Chrismus is A-comin . CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN 1 BONES a-gittin achy, Back a-feelin col , Han s a-gro\vin shaky, Jes lak I was ol . Fros erpon de meddah Lookin mighty white ; Snowdraps lak a feddah Slippin down at night. Jes keep t ings a-hummin Spite o fros an showahs, Chrismus is a-comin An all de week is ouahs. Little mas a-axin , " Who is Santy Glaus?" Meks it kin o taxin Not to brek de laws. Chillun s pow ful tryin* 201 Lyrics of the Hearthside. To a pusson s grace Wen dey go a pryin Right on th oo you face Down erraong yo feelin s ; Jes pears lak dat you Got to change you dealin s So s to tell em true. An my pickaninny Dreamin in his sleep ! Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny, Come an tek a peep. Ol Mas Bob an Missis In dey house up daih Got no chile lak dis is, D ain t none anywhaih. Sleep, my little lammy, Sleep, you little limb, He do know whut mammy Done saved up fu him. Dey 11 be banjo picking Dancin all night thoo. 202 Chrismus is A-comin . Dey 11 be lots o chicken, Plenty tukky, too. Drams to wet yo whistles So s to drive out chills. Whut I keer fu drizzles Fallin on de hills? Jes keep t ings a-hummin Spite o col an showahs, Chrismus day s a-comin , An all de week is ouahs. 203 Lyrics of the Hearthside. A CABIN TALE. THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORY. WHUT you say, dah? huh, uh ! chile, You s enough to dribe me wile. Want a sto y ; jes hyeah dat ! Whah 11 I git a sto y at? Di n I tell you th ee las night? Go way, honey, you ain t right I got somep n else to do, Cides jes tellin tales to you. Tell you jes one ? Lem me see Whut dat one s a-gwine to be. When you s ole, yo membry fails ; Seems lak I do know no tales. Well, set down dah in dat cheer, Keep still ef you wants to hyeah. Tek dat chin up off yo han s, Set up nice now. Goodness lan s ! 204 A Cabin Tale. Hoi yo se f up lak yo pa. Bet nobidy evah saw Him scrunched down lak you was den High-tone boys meks high-tone men. Once dey was a ole black bah, Used to live roun hyeah somewhah In a cave. He was so big He could ca y off a pig Lak you picks a chicken up, Er yo leetles bit o pup. An he had two gread big eyes, Jes erbout a saucer s size. Why, dey looked lak balls o fiah Jumpin roun erpon a wiah Wen dat bah was mad ; an laws ! But you ought to seen his paws ! Did I see em? How you spec I s a-gwine to ricollec Dis hyeah ya n I s try n to spin Ef you keeps on puttin in? You keep still an don t you cheep Less I 11 sen you off to sleep. 205 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Dis hyeah bah d go trompin roun Eatin evahthing he foun ; No one could n t have a fa m But dat bah Vd do em ha m ; And dey could n t ketch de scamp. Anywhah he wan ed to tramp, Dah de scoun el *d mek his track, Do his du t an come on back. He was sich a sly ole limb, Traps was jes lak fun to him. Now, down neah whah Mistah Bah Lived, dey was a weasel dah ; But dey was n t fren s a-tall Case de weasel was so small. An de bah u d, jes. fu sass, Tu n his nose up w en he d pass. Weasels s small o cose, but my ! Dem air animiles is sly. So dis hyeah one says, says he, " I 11 jes fix dat bah, you see." So he fixes up his plan An hunts up de fa merman. 206 A Cabin Tale. When de fa mer see him come, He mence lookin mighty glum, An he ketches up a stick ; But de weasel speak up quick : " Hoi on, Mistah Fa mer man, I wan splain a little plan. Ef you waits, I 11 tell you whah An jes how to ketch ol Bah. But I tell yow now you mus Gin me one fat chicken fus ." Den de man he scratch his haid, Las he say, " I 11 mek de trade." So de weasel et his hen, Smacked his mouf and says, " Well, den, Set yo trap an bait ternight, An I 11 ketch de bah all right." Den he ups an goes to see Mistah Bah, an says, says he : " Well, fren Bah, we ain t been fren s, But ternight ha d feelin en s. Ef you ain t too proud to steal, We kin git a splendid meal. Cose I would n t come to you, 207 Lyrics of the Hearthside. But it mus be done by two ; Hit s a trap, but we kin beat All dey tricks an git de meat." " Cose I s wif you," says de bah, " Come on, weasel, show me whah." Well, dey trots erlong ontwell Dat air meat beginned to smell In de trap. Den weasel say : " Now you put yo paw dis way While I hoi de spring back so, Den you grab de meat an go." Well, de bah he had to grin Ez he put his big paw in, Den he juked up, but kerbing ! Weasel done let go de spring. " Dan now," says de weasel, " dah, I done cotched you, Mistah Bah ! n O, dat bah did sno t and spout, Try n his bestes to git out, But de weasel say, " Goo -bye ! Weasel small, but weasel sly." Den he tu ned his back an run Tol de fa mer whut he done. 208 A Cabin Tale. So de fa mer come down dah, Wif a axe and killed de bah. Dah now, ain t dat sto y fine ? Run erlong now, nevah rain*. Want some mo , you rascal, you ? No, suh ! no, suh ! dat 11 do. 209 Lyrics of the Hearthside. AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN TIME. WHEN I come in f om de co n-fiel aftah wo kin ha d all day, It s amazin nice to fin my suppah all erpon de way; An it s nice to smell de coffee bubblin ovah in de pot, An it s fine to see de meat a-sizzlin teasin - lak an hot. But when suppah-time is ovah, an de t ings is cleahed away , Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes of de day. When my co ncob pipe is sta ted, an de smoke is drawin prime, My ole ooman says, " I reckon, Ike, it s can- dle-lightin time." 2IO At Candle-Lightin Time. Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an all com mence to call, " Oh, say, daddy, now it s time to mek de shadders on de wall." So I puts my ban s togethah evah daddy knows de way, An 1 de chillun snuggle closer roun ez I begin to say : " Fus thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit ; don you see him wo k his eahs? Huh, uh ! dis mus be a donkey, look, how innercent he pears ! Dah s de ole black swan a-swimmin ain t she got a awful neck? Who s dis feller dat s a-comin ? Why, dat s ole dog Tray, I spec ! " Dat s de way I run on, tryin fu to please em all I can ; Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful dis hyeah las s de buga-man ! " 21 I Lyrics of the Hearthside. An dey runs an hides dey faces; dey ain t skeered dey s lettin on : But de play ain t raaly ovah twell dat buga- man is gone. So I jes teks up my banjo, an I plays a little chune, An you see dem haids come peepin out to listen mighty soon. Den my wife says, " Sich a pappy m to give you sich a fright ! Jes you go to baid, an leave him : say yo prayers an say good-night." 212 Whistling Sam. WHISTLING SAM. I HAS hyeahd o people dancin an I s hyeahd o people singin . An I s been roun lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin ; But of all de whistlin da kies dat have lived an died since Ham, De whistlin est I evah seed was ol Ike Bates s Sam. In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel er mowin hay, You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin pu ty nigh a mile erway, Puck rin up his ugly features twell you couldn t see his eyes, Den you d hyeah a soun lak dis un f om dat awful puckah rise : 213 Lyrics of the H earths! de. + JP Jb ? ff\ f <! * Hi k I s Llg When dey had revival meetin an de Lawd s good grace was flowin On de groun dat needed wat rin whaih de seeds of good was growin , While de othahs was a-singin an a-shoutin right an lef , You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin kin* o sof beneaf his bref : 3= -*-=- I 214 Whistling Sam. At de call fu colo ed soldiers, Sam enlisted mong de res Wid de blue o Gawd s great ahmy wropped about his swellin breas , An he laffed an whistled loudah in his youfful joy an glee Dat de govament would let him he p to mek his people free. Daih was lots o ties to bin him, pappy, mammy, an his Dinah, Dinah, min you, was his sweethea t, an dey wasn t nary fin ah ; But he lef em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma ched away, Try n his level bes to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay : 6: 0- A- H \ t- / f u 2I 5 Lyrics of the Hearthside. To de front he went an bravely fought de foe an kep his sperrit, An his comerds said his whistle made em strong when dey could hyeah it. When a saber er a bullet cut some frien o his n down, An de time u d come to trench him an de boys u d gethah roun , An dey couldn t sta t a hymn-tune, mebbe none o dem u d keer, Sam u d whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an he knowed de Mastah d hyeah. In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea ts of all, When above de soun of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call : * E3 11 216 Whistling Sam. When de cruel wah was ovah an de boys come ma chin back, Dey was shouts an cries an blessin s all erlong dey happy track, An de da kies all was happy ; souls an bodies bofe was freed. Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus a been on earf indeed. Dey was gethahed all one evenin jes befo de cabin do , When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin kin o sof an sweet an low. Dey could n t see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca m, An dey all stood daih a-listenin ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam !" An* dey seed a little da ky way off yandah thoo de trees Wid his face all in a puckah mekin jes sich soun s ez dese : 217 Lyrics of the Hearthside. HOW LUCY BACKSLID. DE times is mighty stirrin mong de people up ouah way, Dey sputin an dey argyin an fussin night an day; An all dis monst ous trouble dat hit meks me tiahed to tell Is bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was sich a mighty belle. She was de preachah s favoured, an he toP de chu ch one night Dat she travelled thoo de cloud o sin a-bearin of a light ; But, now, I low he t inkin dat she mus a los huh lamp, Case Lucy done backslided an dey trouble in de camp. 218 How Lucy Backslid. Huh daddy wants to beat huh. but huh mammy daihs him to, Fu she lookin at de question f om a ooman s pint o view; An she say dat now she would n t have it dif- fent ef she could ; Dat huh darter only acted jes lak any othah would. Cose you know w en women argy, dey is mighty easy led By dey hea ts an don t go foolin bout de reasons of de haid. So huh mammy laid de law down (she ain reckernizin wrong), But you got to mek erlowance fu de cause dat go along. Now de cause dat made Miss Lucy fu to th ow huh grace away I s afeard won t baih no spection w en hit come to jedgement day ; 219 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Do* de same t ing been a-wo kin evah sence de worl began, De ooman disobeyin fu to tice along a man. Ef you tended de revivals which we held de wintah pas , You kin rickolec dat convuts was a-comin thick an fas ; But dey ain t no use in talkin , dey was all lef in de lu ch Wen oP Mis Jackson s dartah foun huh peace an tuk de chu ch. W y, she shouted ovah evah inch of Ebenezah s flo j Up into de preachah s pulpit an f om dah down to de do ; Den she hugged an squeezed huh mammy, an she hugged an kissed huh dad, An she struck out at huh sistah, people said, lak she was mad. 220 How Lucy Backslid. I has tended some revivals dat was lively in my day, An I s seed folks git uligion in mos evah kin o way; But I tell you, an you b lieve me dat I s speak- in true indeed, Dat gal tuk huh ligion ha dah dan de ha dest yit I s seed. Well, f om dat, t was " Sistah Jackson, won t you please do dis er dat ? " She mus allus sta t de singin* w en dey d pass erroun de hat, An hit seemed dey was n t nuffin in dat chu ch dat could go by Dout sistah Lucy Jackson had a finger in de pie. But de sayin mighty trufeful dat hit easiah to sail W en de sea is ca m an gentle dan to weathah out a gale. 221 Lyrics of the Hearthside. Dat s whut made dis ooman s trouble; ef de sto m had kep away, She d a had enough uligion fu to lasted out huh day. Lucy went wid Lishy Davis, but w en she jined chu ch, you know Dah was lots o little places dat, of cose, she could n t go ; An she had to gin up dancin an huh singin an huh play. Now hit s nachul dat sich goin s-on u d drive a man away. So, w en Lucy got so solemn, Ike he sta ted fu to go Wid a gal who was a sinnah an could mek a bettah show. Lucy jes went on to meetin lak she did n t keer a rap, But my sperunce kep me t inkin* dah was somep n gwine to drap. 222 How Lucy Backslid. Fu a gal won t let uligion er no othah so t o t ing Stop huh w en she teks a notion dat she wants a weddin ring. You kin p omise huh de blessin s of a happy aftah life (An hit s nice to be a angel), but she d ravah be a wife. So w en Chrismus come an mastah gin a frolic on de lawn, Didn t sprise me not de littlest seem Lucy lookin on. An I seed a wa nin lightnin go a-flashin fom huh eye Jest ez Lishy an* his new gal went a-gallivantin* by. An dat Tildy, umph ! she giggled, an she gin huh dress a flirt Lak de people she was passin was ez common ez de dirt ; 223 Lyrics of the Hearthside. An de minit she was dancin , w y dat gal put on mo aihs Dan a cat a-tekin kittens up a paih o windin staihs. She could fo d to show huh sma tness, fu* she could n t he p but know Dat wid jes de present dancahs she was ownah of de flo ; But I t ink she d kin o cooled down ef she happened on de sly Fu to noticed dat ere lightnin dat I seed in Lucy s eye. An she would n t been so stonished w en de people gin a shout, An Lucy th owed huh mantle back an come a-glidin out. Some ahms was dah to tek huh an she fluttahed down de flo Lak a feddah f om a bedtick w en de win com mence to blow. 224 How Lucy Backslid. Soon ez Tildy see de trouble, she jes tu n an toss huh haid, But seem lak she los huh sperrit, all huh darin - ness was daid. Did n t cut anothah capah nary time de blessid night ; But de othah one, hit looked lak could n t git enough delight. Wen you keeps a colt a-stan nin in de stable all along, Wen he do git out hit s nachul he 11 be pullin mighty strong. Ef you will tie up yo feelin s, hyeah s de bes advice to tek, Look out fu an awful loosin w en de string dat hoi s em brek. Lucy s mammy groaned to see huh, an huh pappy sto med an to , But she kep right on a-hol in to de centah of de flo . J 5 225 Lyrics of the Hearthside. So dey went an ast de pastoh ef he couldn t mek huh quit, But de tellin of de sto y th owed de preachah in a fit. Tildy Taylor chewed huh hank cher twell she d chewed it in a hole, All de sinnahs was rejoicin cause a lamb had lef de fol f , An de las I seed o Lucy, she an Lish was side an side : I don t blame de gal fu dancin , an I could n t ef I tried. Fu de men dat wants to ma y ain t a-growin roun on trees, An de gal dat wants to git one sholy has to try to please. Hit s a ha d t ing fu a ooman fu to pray an jes set down, An to sacafice a husban so s to try to gain a crown. 226 How Lucy Backslid. Now, I don say she was justified in follerin huh plan; But aldough she los huh ligion, yit she sholy got de man. Latah on, w en she is suttain dat de preachah s made em fas She kin jes go back to chu ch an ax fu giveness fu de pas ! 227