University of California Berkeley 
 
 BKliiam fifeiker RarJitoil 
 
 Nettr ^fork 
 
FIFTY YEARS &> OTHER POEMS 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES WELDON JOHNSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN EX-COLORED MAN," ETC. 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 BRANDER MATTHEWS 
 
 THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
 BOSTON 
 
Copyright, 1917 
 By THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
 
 All rights reservtd 
 
fo 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 I/OR permission to reprint certain poems in this 
 book thanks are due to the editors and proprie 
 tors of the Century Magazine, the Independent, 
 The Crisis, The New York Times, and the fol 
 lowing copyright holders, G. Ricordi and Com 
 pany, G. Schirmer and Company, and Joseph 
 W. Stern and Company. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Fifty Years 1 
 
 To America 5 
 
 O Black and Unknown Bards 6 
 
 Southland 8 
 
 To Horace Bumstead 10 
 
 The Color Sergeant 11 
 
 The Black Mammy 12 
 
 Father, Father Abraham 13 
 
 Brothers 14 
 
 Fragment . 17 
 
 The White Witch 19 
 
 Mother Night 22 
 
 The Young Warrior 23 
 
 The Glory of the Day Was in Her Face 24 
 
 From the Spanish of Placido 25 
 
 From the Spanish 25 
 
 From the German of Uhland 26 
 
 Before a Painting 27 
 
 1 Hear the Stars Still Singing 27 
 
 Girl of Fifteen 28 
 
 The Suicide 29 
 
 Down by the Carib Sea 30 
 
 I. Sunrise in the Tropics 30 
 
 II. Los Cigarillos 31 
 
 III. Teestay 32 
 
 IV. The Lottery Girl 33 
 
 V. The Dancing Girl 34 
 
 VI. Sunset in the Tropics 36 
 
 The Greatest of These Is War 37 
 
 A Mid-Day Dreamer 40 
 
 The Temptress 41 
 
 Ghosts of the Old Year 42 
 
 ix 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Ghost of Deacon Brown 43 
 
 Lazy 45 
 
 Omar 46 
 
 Deep in the Quiet Wood 47 
 
 Voluptas .47 
 
 The Word of an Engineer 48 
 
 Life 49 
 
 Sleep 50 
 
 Prayer at Sunrise 51 
 
 The Gift to Sing 52 
 
 Morning, Noon and Night 52 
 
 Her Eyes Twin Pools 53 
 
 The Awakening 54 
 
 Beauty That Is Never Old 55 
 
 Venus in a Garden 56 
 
 Vashti 57 
 
 The Reward 60 
 
 JINGLES fif CROONS 
 
 Sence You Went Away 63 
 
 Ma Lady's Lips Am Like de Honey 64 
 
 Tunk 66 
 
 Nobody's Lookin' but de Owl an' de Moon .... 69 
 
 You's Sweet to Yo' Mammy Jes de Same .... 70 
 
 A Plantation Bacchanal 71 
 
 July in Georgy 73 
 
 A Banjo Song 74 
 
 Answer to Prayer 75 
 
 Dat Gal o' Mine 77 
 
 The Seasons 78 
 
 'Possum Song 79 
 
 Brer Rabbit, You'se de Cutes' of 'Em All 81 
 
 An Explanation 82 
 
 De Little Pickaninny's Gone to Sleep 83 
 
 The Rivals 84 
 
 x 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 'F THE hundred millions who make up the 
 population of the United States ten millions 
 come from a stock ethnically alien to the other 
 ninety millions. They are not descended from 
 ancestors who came here voluntarily, in the 
 spirit of adventure to better themselves or in 
 the spirit of devotion to make sure of freedom 
 to worship God in their own way. They are 
 the grandchildren of men and women brought 
 here against their wills to serve as slaves. It 
 is only half-a-century since they received their 
 freedom and since they were at last permitted 
 to own themselves. They are now American 
 citizens, with the rights and the duties of other 
 American citizens; and they know no language, 
 no literature and no law other than those of 
 their fellow citizens of Anglo-Saxon ancestry. 
 
 When we take stock of ourselves these ten 
 millions cannot be left out of account. Yet they 
 are not as we are; they stand apart, more or 
 less; they have their own distinct characteris 
 tics. It behooves us to understand them as 
 best we can and to discover what manner of 
 people they are. And we are justified in in 
 quiring how far they have revealed themselves, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 their racial characteristics, their abiding traits, 
 their longing aspirations, how far have they 
 disclosed these in one or another of the several 
 arts. They have had their poets, their painters, 
 their composers, and yet most of these have 
 ignored their racial opportunity and have 
 worked in imitation and in emulation of their 
 white predecessors and contemporaries, con 
 tent to handle again the traditional themes. 
 The most important and the most significant 
 contributions they have made to art are in 
 music, first in the plaintive beauty of the 
 so-called " Negro spirituals " and, secondly, 
 in the syncopated melody of so-called " rag 
 time " which has now taken the whole world 
 captive. 
 
 In poetry, especially in the lyric, wherein 
 the soul is free to find full expression for its 
 innermost emotions, their attempts have been, 
 for the most part, divisible into two classes. 
 In the first of these may be grouped the verses 
 in which the lyrist put forth sentiments com 
 mon to all mankind and in no wise specifically 
 those of his own race; and from the days of 
 Phyllis Wheatley to the present the most of 
 the poems written by men who were not wholly 
 white are indistinguishable from the poems 
 written by men who were wholly white. What 
 ever their merits might be, these verses cast 
 xii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 little or no light upon the deeper racial senti 
 ments of the people to whom the poets them 
 selves belonged. But in the lyrics to be grouped 
 in the second of these classes there was a racial 
 quality. This contained the dialect verses in 
 which there was an avowed purpose of recaptur 
 ing the color, the flavor, the movement of life 
 in " the quarters," in the cotton field and in the 
 canebrake. Even in this effort, white authors 
 had led the way; Irvin Russell and Joel Chand 
 ler Harris had made the path straight for Paul 
 Laurence Dunbar, with his lilting lyrics, often 
 infused with the pathos of a down-trodden folk. 
 In the following pages Mr. James Weldon 
 Johnson conforms to both of these traditions. 
 He gathers together a group of lyrics, delicate 
 in workmanship, fragrant with sentiment, and 
 phrased in pure and unexceptionable English. 
 Then he has another group of dialect verses, 
 racy of the soil, pungent in flavor, swinging in 
 rhythm and adroit in rhyme. But where he 
 shows himself a pioneer is the half-dozen larger 
 and bolder poems, of a loftier strain, in which 
 he has been nobly successful in expressing 
 the higher aspirations of his own people. It 
 is in uttering this cry for recognition, for sym 
 pathy, for understanding, and above all, for 
 justice, that Mr. Johnson is most original and 
 most powerful. In the superb and soaring 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 stanzas of " Fifty Years " (published exactly 
 half-a-century after the signing of the Emanci 
 pation Proclamation) he has given us one of 
 the noblest commemorative poems yet written 
 by any American, a poem sonorous in its 
 diction, vigorous in its workmanship, elevated 
 in its imagination and sincere in its emotion. 
 In it speaks the voice of his race; and the race 
 is fortunate in its spokesman. In it a fine theme 
 has been finely treated. In it we are made to 
 see something of the soul of the people who are 
 our fellow citizens now and forever, even if 
 we do not always so regard them. In it we 
 are glad to acclaim a poem which any living 
 poet might be proud to call his own. 
 
 BRANDER MATTHEWS. 
 
 Columbia University 
 in the City of New York. 
 
 xiv 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
FIFTY YEARS 6f OTHER POEMS 
 
 FIFTY YEARS 
 1863-1913 
 
 O brothers mine, to-day we stand 
 Where half a century sweeps our ken, 
 
 Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand, 
 Struck off our bonds and made us men. 
 
 Just fifty years a winter's day 
 
 As runs the history of a race ; 
 Yet, as we look back o'er the way, 
 
 How distant seems our starting place ! 
 
 Look farther back ! Three centuries ! 
 
 To where a naked, shivering score, 
 Snatched from their haunts across the seas, 
 
 Stood, wild-eyed, on Virginia's shore. 
 
 Far, far the way that we have trod, 
 From heathen kraals and jungle dens, 
 
 To freedmen, freemen, sons of God, 
 Americans and Citizens. 
 
 A part of His unknown design, 
 We've lived within a mighty age ; 
 
 And we have helped to write a line 
 On history's most wondrous page. 
 
 [l] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 A few black bondmen strewn along 
 The borders of our eastern coast, 
 
 Now grown a race, ten million strong, 
 An upward, onward marching host. 
 
 Then let us here erect a stone, 
 
 To mark the place, to mark the time; 
 
 A witness to God's mercies shown, 
 A pledge to hold this day sublime. 
 
 And let that stone an altar be, 
 
 Whereon thanksgivings we may lay, 
 
 Where we, in deep humility, 
 
 For faith and strength renewed may pray. 
 
 With open hearts ask from above 
 
 New zeal, new courage and new pow'rs, 
 
 That we may grow more worthy of 
 This country and this land of ours. 
 
 For never let the thought arise 
 
 That we are here on sufferance bare ; 
 
 Outcasts, asylumed 'neath these skies, 
 And aliens without part or share. 
 
 This land is ours by right of birth, 
 This land is ours by right of toil ; 
 
 We helped to turn its virgin earth, 
 Our sweat is in its fruitful soil. 
 [2] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 Where once the tangled forest stood, 
 
 Where flourished once rank weed and thorn, 
 
 Behold the path-traced, peaceful wood, 
 The cotton white, the yellow corn. 
 
 To gain these fruits that have been earned, 
 To hold these fields that have been won, 
 
 Our arms have strained, our backs have burned, 
 Bent bare beneath a ruthless sun. 
 
 That Banner which is now the type 
 
 Of victory on field and flood 
 Remember, its first crimson stripe 
 
 Was dyed by Attucks' willing blood. 
 
 And never yet has come the cry 
 
 When that fair flag has been assailed 
 
 For men to do, for men to die, 
 
 That have we faltered or have failed. 
 
 We've helped to bear it, rent and torn, 
 
 Through many a hot-breath 'd battle breeze; 
 
 Held in our hands, it has been borne 
 And planted far across the seas. 
 
 And never yet O haughty Land, 
 Let us, at least, for this be praised 
 
 Has one black, treason-guided hand 
 Ever against that flag been raised. 
 [3] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 Then should we speak but servile words, 
 Or shall we hang our heads in shame? 
 
 Stand back of new-come foreign hordes, 
 And fear our heritage to claim? 
 
 No! stand erect and without fear, 
 
 And for our foes let this suffice 
 We've bought a rightful sonship here, 
 
 And we have more than paid the price. 
 
 And yet, my brothers, well I know 
 The tethered feet, the pinioned wings, 
 
 The spirit bowed beneath the blow, 
 
 The heart grown faint from wounds and stings; 
 
 The staggering force of brutish might, 
 
 That strikes and leaves us stunned and daezd ; 
 
 The long, vain waiting through the night 
 To hear some voice for justice raised. 
 
 Full well I know the hour when hope 
 Sinks dead, and 'round us everywhere 
 
 Hangs stifling darkness, and we grope 
 With hands uplifted in despair. 
 
 Courage! Look out, beyond, and see 
 The far horizon's beckoning span! 
 
 Faith in your God-known destiny ! 
 We are a part of some great plan. 
 [4] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 Because the tongues of Garrison 
 And Phillips now are cold in death, 
 
 Think you their work can be undone? 
 Or quenched the fires lit by their breath? 
 
 Think you that John Brown's spirit stops? 
 
 That Lovejoy was but idly slain? 
 Or do you think those precious drops 
 
 From Lincoln's heart were shed in vain? 
 
 That for which millions prayed and sighed, 
 That for which tens of thousands fought, 
 
 For which so many freely died, 
 God cannot let it come to naught. 
 
 TO AMERICA 
 
 How would you have us, as we are? 
 Or sinking 'neath the load we bear? 
 Our eyes fixed forward on a star? 
 Or gazing empty at despair? 
 
 Rising or falling? Men or things? 
 With dragging pace or footsteps fleet? 
 Strong, willing sinews in your wings? 
 Or tightening chains about your feet? 
 
 [5] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 O BLACK AND UNKNOWN BARDS 
 
 O black and unknown bards of long ago, 
 How came your lips to touch the sacred fire? 
 How, in your darkness, did you come to know 
 The power and beauty of the minstrel's lyre? 
 Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes? 
 Who first from out the still watch, lone and long, 
 Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise 
 Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song? 
 
 Heart of what slave poured out such melody 
 As " Steal away to Jesus " ? On its strains 
 His spirit must have nightly floated free, 
 Though still about his hands he felt his chains. 
 Who heard great "Jordan roll"? Whose star- 
 ward eye 
 
 Saw chariot ' ' swing low ' ' ? And who was he 
 That breathed that comforting, melodic sigh, 
 11 Nobody knows de trouble I see " ? 
 
 What merely living clod, what captive thing, 
 Could up toward God through all its darkness 
 
 grope, 
 
 And find within its deadened heart to sing 
 These songs of sorrow, love, and faith, and hope? 
 How did it catch that subtle undertone, 
 That note in music heard not with the ears? 
 [6] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 How sound the elusive reed so seldom blown, 
 Which stirs the soul or melts the heart to tears. 
 
 Not that great German master in his dream 
 Of harmonies that thundered amongst the stars 
 At the creation, ever heard a theme 
 Nobler than " Go down, Moses." Mark its 
 
 bars, 
 
 How like a mighty trumpet-call they stir 
 The blood. Such are the notes that men have 
 
 sung 
 
 Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were 
 That helped make history when Time was 
 
 young. 
 
 There is a wide, wide wonder in it all, 
 That from degraded rest and servile toil 
 The fiery spirit of the seer should call 
 These simple children of the sun and soil. 
 O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed, 
 You you alone, of all the long, long line 
 Of those who've sung untaught, unknown, un 
 named, 
 Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine. 
 
 You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings ; 
 No chant of bloody war, no exulting pean 
 Of arms-won triumphs ; but your humble strings 
 You touched in chord with music empyrean. 
 
 [7] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 You sang far better than you knew; the songs 
 That for your listeners' hungry hearts sufficed 
 Still live, but more than this to you belongs: 
 You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ. 
 
 O SOUTHLAND! 
 
 O Southland! O Southland! 
 
 Have you not heard the call, 
 The trumpet blown, the word made known 
 
 To the nations, one and all? 
 The watchword, the hope-word, 
 
 Salvation's present plan? 
 A gospel new, for all for you: 
 
 Man shall be saved by man. 
 
 O Southland! O Southland! 
 
 Do you not hear to-day 
 The mighty beat of onward feet, 
 
 And know you not their way? 
 'Tis forward, 'tis upward, 
 
 On to the fair white arch 
 Of Freedom's dome, and there is room 
 
 For each man who would march. 
 
 O Southland, fair Southland! 
 
 Then why do you still cling 
 To an idle age and a musty page, 
 
 To a dead and useless thing? 
 [8] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 'Tis springtime! 'Tis work-time! 
 
 The world is young again ! 
 And God's above, and God is love, 
 
 And men are only men. 
 
 O Southland ! my Southland ! 
 
 O birthland ! do not shirk 
 The toilsome task, nor respite ask, 
 
 But gird you for the work. 
 Remember, remember 
 
 That weakness stalks in pride ; 
 That he is strong who helps along 
 
 The faint one at his side. 
 
 [9] 
 
FIFTY YEARS W OTHER POEMS 
 
 To HORACE BUMSTEAD 
 
 Have you been sore discouraged in the fight, 
 And even sometimes weighted by the thought 
 That those with whom and those for whom 
 you fought 
 
 Lagged far behind, or dared but faintly smite? 
 
 And that the opposing forces in their might 
 Of blind inertia rendered as for naught 
 All that throughout the long years had been 
 wrought, 
 
 And powerless each blow for Truth and Right? 
 
 If so, take new and greater courage then, 
 
 And think no more withouten help you stand ; 
 
 For sure as God on His eternal throne 
 Sits, mindful of the sinful deeds of men, 
 
 The awful Sword of Justice in His hand, 
 You shall not, no, you shall not, fight alone. 
 
 [10] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE COLOR SERGEANT 
 
 (On an Incident at the Battle of San Juan Hill) 
 
 Under a burning tropic sun, 
 With comrades around him lying, 
 A trooper of the sable Tenth 
 Lay wounded, bleeding, dying. 
 
 First in the charge up the fort-crowned hill, 
 His company's guidon bearing, 
 He had rushed where the leaden hail fell fast, 
 Not death nor danger fearing. 
 
 He fell in the front where the fight grew fierce, 
 Still faithful in life's last labor; 
 Black though his skin, yet his heart as true 
 As the steel of his blood-stained saber. 
 
 And while the battle around him rolled, 
 Like the roar of a sullen breaker, 
 He closed his eyes on the bloody scene, 
 And presented arms to his Maker. 
 
 There he lay, without honor or rank, 
 But, still, in a grim-like beauty; 
 Despised of men for his humble race, 
 Yet true, in death, to his duty. 
 
 [11] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE BLACK MAMMY 
 
 O whitened head entwined in turban gay, 
 O kind black face, O crude, but tender hand, 
 O foster-mother in whose arms there lay 
 The race whose sons are masters of the land ! 
 It was thine arms that sheltered in their fold, 
 It was thine eyes that followed through the 
 
 length 
 
 Of infant days these sons. In times of old 
 It was thy breast that nourished them to 
 
 strength. 
 
 So often hast thou to thy bosom pressed 
 The golden head, the face and brow of snow; 
 So often has it 'gainst thy broad, dark breast 
 Lain, set off like a quickened cameo. 
 Thou simple soul, as cuddling down that babe 
 With thy sweet croon, so plaintive and so wild, 
 Came ne'er the thought to thee, swift like a 
 
 stab, 
 That it some day might crush thine own black 
 
 child? 
 
 [12] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 FATHER, FATHER ABRAHAM 
 
 (On the Anniversary of Lincoln's Birth) 
 
 Father, Father Abraham, 
 To-day look on us from above ; 
 
 On us, the offspring of thy faith, 
 The children of thy Christ-like love. 
 
 For that which we have humbly wrought, 
 Give us to-day thy kindly smile ; 
 
 Wherein we've failed or fallen short, 
 Bear with us, Father, yet awhile. 
 
 Father, Father Abraham, 
 
 To-day we lift our hearts to thee, 
 
 Filled with the thought of what great price 
 Was paid, that we might ransomed be. 
 
 To-day we consecrate ourselves 
 Anew in hand and heart and brain, 
 
 To send this judgment down the years: 
 The ransom was not paid in vain. 
 
 [13] 
 
FIFTY YEARS y OTHER POEMS 
 
 BROTHERS 
 
 See! There he stands; not brave, but with an 
 
 air 
 
 Of sullen stupor. Mark him well! Is he 
 Not more like brute than man ? Look in his eye ! 
 No light is there; none, save the glint that shines 
 In the now glaring, and now shifting orbs 
 Of some wild animal caught in the hunter's trap. 
 
 How came this beast in human shape and 
 
 form? 
 Speak, man ! We call you man because you 
 
 wear 
 His shape How are you thus? Are you not 
 
 from 
 
 That docile, child-like, tender-hearted race 
 Which we have known three centuries? Not 
 
 from 
 That more than faithful race which through 
 
 three wars 
 Fed our dear wives and nursed our helpless 
 
 babes 
 Without a single breach of trust? Speak out! 
 
 I am, and am not. 
 
 Then who, why are you? 
 [14] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 I am a thing not new, I am as old 
 As human nature. I am that which lurks, 
 Ready to spring whenever a bar is loosed ; 
 The ancient trait which fights incessantly 
 Against restraint, balks at the upward climb ; 
 The weight forever seeking to obey 
 The law of downward pull ; and I am more : 
 The bitter fruit am I of planted seed ; 
 The resultant, the inevitable end 
 Of evil forces and the powers of wrong. 
 
 Lessons in degradation, taught and learned, 
 The memories of cruel sights and deeds, 
 The pent-up bitterness, the unspent hate 
 Filtered through fifteen generations have 
 Sprung up and found in me sporadic life. 
 In me the muttered curse of dying men, 
 On me the stain of conquered women, and 
 Consuming me the fearful fires of lust, 
 Lit long ago, by other hands than mine. 
 In me the down-crushed spirit, the hurled-back 
 
 prayers 
 
 Of wretches now long dead, their dire be 
 quests. 
 
 In me the echo of the stifled cry 
 Of children for their bartered mothers' breasts. 
 
 I claim no race, no race claims me; I am 
 
 (No more than human dregs ; degenerate ; 
 The monstrous offspring of the monster, Sin ; 
 [15] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 I am just what I am. . . . The race that fed 
 Your wives and nursed your babes would do the 
 
 same 
 To-day, but I 
 
 Enough, the brute must die! 
 Quick! Chain him to that oak! It will resist 
 The fire much longer than this slender pine. 
 Now bring the fuel ! Pile it 'round him! Wait! 
 Pile not so fast or high ! or we shall lose 
 The agony and terror in his face. 
 And now the torch! Good fuel that! the flames 
 Already leap head-high. Ha! hear that shriek! 
 And there's another! wilder than the first. 
 Fetch water! Water! Pour a little on 
 The fire, lest it should burn too fast. Hold so! 
 Now let it slowly blaze again. See there! 
 He squirms! He groans! His eyes bulge wildly 
 
 out, 
 
 Searching around in vain appeal for help ! 
 Another shriek, the last! Watch how the flesh 
 Grows crisp and hangs till, turned to ash, it sifts 
 Down through the coils of chain that hold erect 
 The ghastly frame against the bark-scorched 
 
 tree. 
 
 Stop! to each man no more than one man's 
 
 share. 
 You take that bone, and you this tooth; the 
 
 chain 
 
 [16] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 Let us divide its links; this skull, of course, 
 In fair division, to the leader comes. 
 
 And now his fiendish crime has been 
 
 avenged ; 
 
 Let us back to our wives and children. Say, 
 What did he mean by those last muttered words, 
 " Brothers in spirit, brothers in deed are we"? 
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 The hand of Fate cannot be stayed, 
 The course of Fate cannot be steered, 
 By all the gods that man has made, 
 Nor all the devils he has feared, 
 Not by the prayers that might be prayed 
 In all the temples he has reared. 
 
 See! In your very midst there dwell 
 Ten thousand thousand blacks, a wedge 
 Forged in the furnaces of hell, 
 And sharpened to a cruel edge 
 By wrong and by injustice fell, 
 And driven by hatred as a sledge. 
 
 A wedge so slender at the start 
 Just twenty slaves in shackles bound 
 And yet, which split the land apart 
 
 [17] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 With shrieks of war and battle sound, 
 Which pierced the nation's very heart, 
 And still lies cankering in the wound. 
 
 Not all the glory of your pride, 
 Preserved in story and in song, 
 Can from the judging future hide, 
 Through all the coming ages long, 
 That though you bravely fought and died, 
 You fought and died for what was wrong. 
 
 'Tis fixed for them that violate 
 The eternal laws, naught shall avail 
 Till they their error expiate ; 
 Nor shall their unborn children fail 
 To pay the full required weight 
 Into God's great, unerring scale. 
 
 Think not repentance can redeem. 
 That sin his wages can withdraw ; 
 No, think as well to change the scheme 
 Of worlds that move in reverent awe ; 
 Forgiveness is an idle dream, 
 God is not love, no, God is law. 
 
 [18] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE WHITE WITCH 
 
 O, brothers mine, take care! Take care! 
 The great white witch rides out to-night, 
 Trust not your prowess nor your strength ; 
 Your only safety lies in flight ; 
 For in her glance there is a snare, 
 And in her smile there is a blight. 
 
 The great white witch you have not seen? 
 Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth, 
 Like nursery children you have looked 
 For ancient hag and snaggled tooth ; 
 But no, not so; the witch appears 
 In all the glowing charms of youth. 
 
 Her lips are like carnations red, 
 Her face like new-born lilies fair, 
 Her eyes like ocean waters blue, 
 She moves with subtle grace and air, 
 And all about her head there floats 
 The golden glory of her hair. 
 
 But though she always thus appears 
 In form of youth and mood of mirth, 
 Unnumbered centuries are hers, 
 
 [19] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 The infant planets saw her birth ; 
 The child of throbbing Life is she, 
 Twin sister to the greedy earth. 
 
 And back behind those smiling lips, 
 And down within those laughing eyes, 
 And underneath the soft caress 
 Of hand and voice and purring sighs, 
 The shadow of the panther lurks, 
 The spirit of the vampire lies. 
 
 For I have seen the great white witch, 
 And she has led me to her lair, 
 And I have kissed her red, red lips 
 And cruel face so white and fair ; 
 Around me she has twined her arms, 
 And bound me with her yellow hair. 
 
 I felt those red lips burn and sear 
 My body like a living coal ; 
 Obeyed the power of those eyes 
 As the needle trembles to the pole ; 
 And did not care although I felt 
 The strength go ebbing from my soul. 
 
 Oh ! she has seen your strong young limbs, 
 And heard your laughter loud and gay, 
 And in your voices she has caught 
 
 [20] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 The echo of a far-off day, 
 
 When man was closer to the earth ; 
 
 And she has marked you for her prey. 
 
 She feels the old Antsean strength 
 In you, the great dynamic beat 
 Of primal passions, and she sees 
 In you the last besieged retreat 
 Of love relentless, lusty, fierce, 
 Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet. 
 
 O, brothers mine, take care! Take care! 
 The great white witch rides out to-night. 
 O, younger brothers mine, beware! 
 Look not upon her beauty bright ; 
 For in her glance there is a snare, 
 And in her smile there is a blight. 
 
 [21] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 MOTHER NIGHT 
 
 Eternities before the first-born day, 
 
 Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame, 
 Calm Night, the everlasting and the same, 
 
 A brooding mother over chaos lay. 
 
 And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay, 
 Shall run their fiery courses and then claim 
 The haven of the darkness whence they came ; 
 
 Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way. 
 
 So when my feeble sun of life burns out, 
 
 And sounded is the hour for my long sleep, 
 
 I shall, full weary of the feverish light, 
 Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt, 
 And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep 
 Into the quiet bosom of the Night. 
 
 [22] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE YOUNG WARRIOR 
 
 Mother, shed no mournful tears, 
 But gird me on my sword ; 
 And give no utterance to thy fears, 
 But bless me with thy word. 
 
 The lines are drawn ! The fight is on ! 
 A cause is to be won ! 
 Mother, look not so white and wan ; 
 Give Godspeed to thy son. 
 
 Now let thine eyes my way pursue 
 Where'er my footsteps fare ; 
 And when they lead beyond thy view, 
 Send after me a prayer. 
 
 But pray not to defend from harm, 
 Nor danger to dispel ; 
 Pray, rather, that with steadfast arm 
 I fight the battle well. 
 
 Pray, mother of mine, that I always keep 
 My heart and purpose strong, 
 My sword unsullied and ready to leap 
 Unsheathed against the wrong. 
 
 [23] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE GLORY OF THE DAY WAS 
 IN HER FACE 
 
 The glory of the day was in her face, 
 The beauty of the night was in her eyes. 
 And over all her loveliness, the grace 
 Of Morning blushing in the early skies. 
 
 And in her voice, the calling of the dove; 
 Like music of a sweet, melodious part. 
 And in her smile, the breaking light of love; 
 And all the gentle virtues in her heart. 
 
 And now the glorious day, the beauteous night, 
 The birds that signal to their mates at dawn, 
 To my dull ears, to my tear-blinded sight 
 Are one with all the dead, since she is gone. 
 
 [24] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 SONNET 
 
 (From the Spanish of Pldcido) 
 
 Enough of love ! Let break its every hold ! 
 
 Ended my youthful folly ! for I know 
 
 That, like the dazzling, glister-shedding snow, 
 Celia, thou art beautiful, but cold. 
 I do not find in thee that warmth which glows, 
 
 Which, all these dreary days, my heart has 
 sought, 
 
 That warmth without which love is lifeless, 
 
 naught 
 More than a painted fruit, a waxen rose. 
 
 Such love as thine, scarce can it bear love'sname, 
 Deaf to the pleading notes of his sweet lyre, 
 
 A frank, impulsive heart I wish to claim, 
 A heart that blindly follows its desire. 
 
 I wish to embrace a woman full of flame, 
 I want to kiss a woman made of fire. 
 
 FROM THE SPANISH 
 
 Twenty years go by on noiseless feet, 
 
 He returns, and once again they meet, 
 
 She exclaims, "Good heavens! and is that he? 
 
 He mutters, "My God! and that is she!" 
 
 [25] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND 
 
 Three students once tarried over the Rhine, 
 And into Frau Wirthin's turned to dine. 
 
 "Say, hostess, have you good beer and wine? 
 And where is that pretty daughter of thine?" 
 
 "My beer and wine is fresh and clear. 
 My daughter lies on her funeral bier/' 
 
 They softly tipped into the room ; 
 She lay there in the silent gloom. 
 
 The first the white cloth gently raised, 
 And tearfully upon her gazed. 
 
 "If thou wert alive, O, lovely maid, 
 
 My heart at thy feet would to-day be laid!" 
 
 The second covered her face again, 
 And turned away with grief and pain. 
 
 "Ah, thou upon thy snow-white bier! 
 And I have loved thee so many a year." 
 
 The third drew back again the veil, 
 And kissed the lips so cold and pale. 
 
 "I've loved thee always, I love thee to-day, 
 And will love thee, yes, forever and aye!" 
 
 [26] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 BEFORE A PAINTING 
 
 I knew not who had wrought with skill so fine 
 What I beheld ; nor by what laws of art 
 He had created life and love and heart 
 
 On canvas, from mere color, curve and line. 
 
 Silent I stood and made no move or sign ; 
 Not with the crowd, but reverently apart; 
 Nor felt the power my rooted limbs to start, 
 
 But mutely gazed upon that face divine. 
 
 And over me the sense of beauty fell, 
 As music over a raptured listener to 
 The deep-voiced organ breathing out a 
 
 hymn; 
 
 Or as on one who kneels, his beads to tell, 
 There falls the aureate glory filtered through 
 The windows in some old cathedral dim. 
 
 I HEAR THE STARS STILL SINGING 
 
 I hear the stars still singing 
 To the beautiful, silent night, 
 As they speed with noiseless winging 
 Their ever westward flight. 
 I hear the waves still falling 
 On the stretch of lonely shore, 
 But the sound of a sweet voice calling 
 I shall hear, alas! no more. 
 [27] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 GIRL OF FIFTEEN 
 
 Girl of fifteen, 
 
 I see you each morning from my window 
 As you pass on your way to school. 
 I do more than see, I watch you. 
 I furtively draw the curtain aside. 
 And my heart leaps through my eyes 
 And follows you down the street ; 
 Leaving me behind, half -hid 
 And wholly ashamed. 
 
 What holds me back, 
 
 Half-hid behind the curtains and wholly 
 
 ashamed, 
 But my forty years beyond your fifteen? 
 
 Girl of fifteen, as you pass 
 
 There passes, too, a lightning flash of time 
 
 In which you lift those forty summers off my 
 
 head, 
 And take those forty winters out of my heart. 
 
 [28] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE SUICIDE 
 
 For fifty years, 
 Cruel, insatiable Old World, 
 You have punched me over the heart 
 Till you made me cough blood. 
 The few paltry things I gathered 
 You snatched out of my hands. 
 You have knocked the cup from my thirsty lips. 
 You have laughed at my hunger of body and 
 soul. 
 
 You look at me now and think, 
 
 u He is still strong, 
 
 There ought to be twenty more years of good 
 
 punching there. 
 
 At the end of that time he will be old and broken, 
 Not able to strike back, 
 But cringing and crying for leave 
 To live a little longer." 
 
 Those twenty, pitiful, extra years 
 
 Would please you more than the fifty past, 
 
 Would they not, Old World? 
 
 Well, I hold them up before your greedy eyes, 
 
 And snatch them away as I laugh in your face, 
 
 Ha! Ha! 
 
 Bang ! 
 
 [29] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA 
 
 I 
 
 Sunrise in the Tropics 
 
 Sol, Sol, mighty lord of the tropic zone, 
 Here I wait with the trembling stars 
 To see thee once more take thy throne. 
 
 There the patient palm tree watching 
 Waits to say, "Good morn" to thee, 
 And a throb of expectation 
 Pulses through the earth and me. 
 
 Now, o'er nature falls a hush, 
 Look ! the East is all a-blush ; 
 And a growing crimson crest 
 Dims the late stars in the west ; 
 Now, a flood of golden light 
 Sweeps across the silver night, 
 Swift the pale moon fades away 
 Before the light-girt King of Day, 
 See ! the miracle is done ! 
 Once more behold ! The Sun ! 
 
 [30] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 H 
 Los Cigarillos 
 
 This is the land of the dark-eyed gente, 
 
 Of the dolce far niente, 
 
 Where we dream away 
 
 Both the night and day, 
 
 At night-time in sleep our dreams we invoke, 
 
 Our dreams come by day through the redolent 
 
 smoke, 
 
 As it lazily curls, 
 And slowly unfurls 
 From our lips, 
 And the tips 
 Of our fragrant cigarillos. 
 For life in the tropics is only a joke, 
 So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke, 
 Smoke smoke smoke. 
 
 Tropical constitutions 
 Call for occasional revolutions; 
 But after that's through, 
 Why there's nothing to do 
 But smoke smoke ; 
 
 For life in the tropics is only a joke, 
 
 So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke, 
 
 Smoke smoke smoke. 
 
 [31] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 III 
 
 Teestay 
 
 Of tropic sensations, the worst 
 Is, sin duda, the tropical thirst. 
 
 When it starts in your throat and constantly 
 
 grows, 
 
 Till you feel that it reaches down to your toes, 
 When your mouth tastes like fur 
 And your tongue turns to dust, 
 There's but one thing to do, 
 And do it you must, 
 Drink teestay. 
 
 Teestay, a drink with a history, 
 
 A delicious, delectable mystery, 
 
 "Cinco centavos el vaso, senor," 
 
 If you take one, you will surely want more. 
 
 Teestay, teestay, 
 
 The national drink on a feast day; 
 
 How it coolingly tickles, 
 
 As downward it trickles, 
 
 Teestay, teestay. 
 
 And you wish, as you take it down at a quaff, 
 That your neck was constructed a la giraffe. 
 Teestay, teestay. 
 
 [32] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 IV 
 The Lottery Girl 
 
 "Lottery, lottery, 
 Take a chance at the lottery? 
 Take a ticket, 
 Or, better, take two ; 
 Who knows what the future 
 May hold for you? 
 Lottery, lottery, 
 Take a chance at the lottery?" 
 
 Oh, limpid-eyed girl, 
 
 I would take every chance, 
 
 If only the prize 
 
 Were a love-flashing glance 
 
 From your fathomless eyes. 
 
 "Lottery, lottery, 
 Try your luck at the lottery? 
 Consider the size 
 Of the capital prize, 
 And take tickets 
 For the lottery. 
 Tickets, senor? Tickets, senor? 
 Take a chance at the lottery?" 
 
 Oh, crimson-lipped girl, 
 With the magical smile, 
 [33] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 I would count that the gamble 
 Were well worth the while, 
 Not a chance would I miss, 
 If only the prize 
 Were a honey-bee kiss 
 Gathered in sips 
 From those full-ripened lips, 
 And a love-flashing glance 
 From your eyes. 
 
 V 
 
 The Dancing Girl 
 
 Do you know what it is to dance? 
 Perhaps, you do know, in a fashion ; 
 But by dancing I mean, 
 Not what's generally seen, 
 But dancing of fire and passion, 
 Of fire and delirious passion. 
 
 With a dusky-haired senorita, 
 Her dark, misty eyes near your own, 
 And her scarlet-red mouth, 
 Like a rose of the south, 
 The reddest that ever was grown, 
 So close that you catch 
 Her quick-panting breath 
 As across your own face it is blown, 
 With a sigh, and a moan. 
 [34] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 Ah ! that is dancing, 
 
 As here by the Carib it's known. 
 
 Now, whirling and twirling 
 
 Like furies we go ; 
 
 Now, soft and caressing 
 
 And sinuously slow ; 
 
 With an undulating motion, 
 
 Like waves on a breeze-kissed ocean: 
 
 And the scarlet-red mouth 
 
 Is nearer your own, 
 
 And the dark, misty eyes 
 
 Still softer have grown. 
 
 Ah! that is dancing, that is loving, 
 As here by the Carib they're known. 
 
 35] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 VI 
 
 Sunset in the Tropics 
 
 A silver flash from the sinking sun, 
 
 Then a shot of crimson across the sky 
 
 That, bursting, lets a thousand colors fly 
 
 And riot among the clouds; they run, 
 
 Deepening in purple, flaming in gold, 
 
 Changing, and opening fold after fold. 
 
 Then fading through all of the tints of the rose 
 
 into gray, 
 
 Till, taking quick fright at the coming night, 
 They rush out down the west, 
 In hurried quest 
 Of the fleeing day. 
 
 Now above where the tardiest color flares 
 
 a moment yet, 
 
 One point of light, now two, now three are set 
 To form the starry stairs, 
 And, in her fire-fly crown, 
 Queen Night, on velvet slippered feet, comes 
 
 softly down. 
 
 [36] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR 
 
 Around the council-board of Hell, with Satan at 
 their head, 
 
 The Three Great Scourges of humanity sat. 
 
 Gaunt Famine, with hollow cheek and voice, 
 arose and spoke, 
 
 "O, Prince, I have stalked the earth, 
 
 And my victims by ten thousands I have slain, 
 
 I have smitten old and young. 
 
 Mouths of the helpless old moaning for bread, 
 I have filled with dust; 
 
 And I have laughed to see a crying babe tug at 
 the shriveling breast 
 
 Of its mother, dead and cold. 
 
 I have heard the cries and prayers of men go up 
 to a tearless sky, 
 
 And fall back upon an earth of ashes; 
 
 But, heedless, I have gone on with my work. 
 
 'Tis thus, O, Prince, that I have scourged man 
 kind/' 
 
 And Satan nodded his head. 
 
 Pale Pestilence, with stenchful breath, then 
 
 spoke and said, 
 " Great Prince, my brother, Famine, attacks 
 
 the poor. 
 
 [37] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 He is most terrible against the helpless and the 
 
 old. 
 But I have made a charnel-house of the mightiest 
 
 cities of men. 
 When I strike, neither their stores of gold or of 
 
 grain avail. 
 With a breath I lay low their strongest, and 
 
 wither up their fairest. 
 I come upon them without warning, lancing 
 
 invisible death. 
 
 From me they flee with eyes and mouths dis 
 tended ; 
 I poison the air for which they gasp, and I strike 
 
 them down fleeing. 
 'Tis thus, great Prince, that I have scourged 
 
 mankind." 
 
 And Satan nodded his head. 
 
 Then the red monster, War, rose up and spoke, 
 His blood-shot eyes glared 'round him, and his 
 
 thundering voice 
 
 Echoed through the murky vaults of Hell. 
 " O, mighty Prince, my brothers, Famine and 
 
 Pestilence, 
 Have slain their thousands and ten thousands, 
 
 true; 
 
 But the greater their victories have been, 
 The more have they wakened in Man's breast 
 [381 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 The God-like attributes of sympathy, of brother 
 hood and love 
 
 And made of him a searcher after wisdom. 
 
 But I arouse in Man the demon and the brute, 
 
 I plant black hatred in his heart and red re 
 venge. 
 
 From the summit of fifty thousand years of 
 upward climb 
 
 I haul him down to the level of the start, back 
 to the wolf. 
 
 I give him claws. 
 
 I set his teeth into his brother's throat. 
 
 I make him drunk with his brother's blood. 
 
 And I laugh ho ! ho ! while he destroys himself. 
 
 O, mighty Prince, not only do I slay, 
 
 But I draw Man hellward." 
 
 And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and 
 
 said, 
 " O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I 
 
 crown you chief." 
 
 And Hell rang with the acclamation of the 
 Fiends. 
 
 [39] 
 
FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS 
 
 A MID-DAY DREAMER 
 
 I love to sit alone, and dream, 
 
 And dream, and dream; 
 
 In fancy's boat to softly glide 
 
 Along some stream 
 
 Where fairy palaces of gold 
 
 And crystal bright 
 
 Stand all along the glistening shore : 
 
 A wondrous sight. 
 
 My craft is built of ivory, 
 
 With silver oars, 
 
 The sails are spun of golden threads, 
 
 And priceless stores 
 
 Of precious gems adorn its prow, 
 
 And 'round its mast 
 
 An hundred silken cords are set 
 
 To hold it fast. 
 
 My galley-slaves are sprightly elves 
 
 Who, as they row, 
 
 And as their shining oars they swing 
 
 Them to and fro, 
 
 Keep time to music wafted on 
 
 The scented air, 
 
 Made by the mermaids as they comb 
 
 Their golden hair. 
 
 [40] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 And I the while lie idly back, 
 And dream, and dream, 
 And let them row me where they will 
 Adown the stream. 
 
 THE TEMPTRESS 
 
 Old Devil, when you come with horns and tail, 
 With diabolic grin and crafty leer ; 
 I say, such bogey-man devices wholly fail 
 To waken in my heart a single fear. 
 
 But when you wear a form I know so well, 
 A form so human, yet so near divine; 
 'Tis then I fall beneath the magic of your spell, 
 'Tis then I know the vantage is not mine. 
 
 Ah! when you take your horns from off your 
 
 head, 
 
 And soft and fragrant hair is in their place; 
 I must admit I fear the tangled path I tread 
 When that dear head is laid against my face. 
 
 And at what time you change your baleful eyes 
 For stars that melt into the gloom of night, 
 All of my courage, my dear fellow, quickly flies; 
 I know my chance is slim to win the fight. 
 
 [41] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 And when, instead of charging down to wreck 
 Me on a red-hot pitchfork in your hand, 
 You throw a pair of slender arms about my neck, 
 I dare not trust the ground on which I stand. 
 
 Whene'er in place of using patent wile, 
 
 Or trying to frighten me with horrid grin, 
 
 You tempt me with two crimson lips curved in a 
 
 smile ; 
 Old Devil, I must really own, you win. 
 
 GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR 
 
 The snow has ceased its fluttering flight, 
 The wind sunk to a whisper light, 
 An ominous stillness fills the night, 
 
 A pause a hush. 
 
 At last, a sound that breaks the spell, 
 Loud, clanging mou things of a bell, 
 That through the silence peal and swell, 
 
 And roll, and rush. 
 
 What does this brazen tongue declare, 
 That falling on the midnight air 
 Brings to my heart a sense of care 
 
 Akin to fright? 
 
 'Tis telling that the year is dead, 
 The New Year come, the Old Year fled, 
 Another leaf before me spread 
 
 On which to write. 
 
 [42] 
 
FIFTY YEARS y OTHER POEMS 
 
 It tells the deeds that were not done, 
 
 It tells of races never run, 
 
 Of victories that were not won, 
 
 Barriers unleaped. 
 It tells of many a squandered day, 
 Of slighted gems and treasured clay, 
 Of precious stores not laid away, 
 
 Of fields unreaped. 
 
 And so the years go swiftly by, 
 Each, coming, brings ambitions high, 
 And each, departing, leaves a sigh 
 
 Linked to the past. 
 Large resolutions, little deeds; 
 Thus, filled with aims unreached, life speeds 
 Until the blotted record reads, 
 
 " Failure!" at last. 
 
 THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN 
 
 In a backwoods town 
 
 Lived Deacon Brown, 
 
 And he was a miser old ; 
 
 He would trust no bank, 
 
 So he dug, and sank 
 
 In the ground a box of gold, 
 
 Down deep in the ground a box of gold. 
 
 [43] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 He hid his gold, 
 
 As has been told, 
 
 He remembered that he did it ; 
 
 But sad to say, 
 
 On the very next day, 
 
 He forgot just where he hid it: 
 
 To find his gold he tried and tried 
 
 Till he grew faint and sick, and died. 
 
 Then on each dark and gloomy night 
 
 A form in phosphorescent white, 
 
 A genuine hair-raising sight, 
 
 Would wander through the town. 
 
 And as it slowly roamed around, 
 
 With a spade it dug each foot of ground ; 
 
 So the folks about 
 
 Said there was no doubt 
 
 'Twas the ghost of Deacon Brown. 
 
 Around the church 
 
 This Ghost would search, 
 
 And whenever it would see 
 
 The passers-by 
 
 Take wings and fly 
 
 It would laugh in ghostly glee, 
 
 Hee, hee! it would laugh in ghostly glee. 
 
 And so the town 
 Went quickly down, 
 
 [44] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 For they said that it was haunted ; 
 
 And doors and gates, 
 
 So the story states, 
 
 Bore a notice, " Tenants wanted." 
 
 And the town is now for let, 
 But the ghost is digging yet, 
 
 "LAZY" 
 
 Some men enjoy the constant strife 
 Of days with work and worry rife, 
 But that is not my dream of life: 
 
 I think such men are crazy. 
 For me, a life with worries few, 
 A job of nothing much to do, 
 Just pelf enough to see me through: 
 
 I fear that I am lazy. 
 
 On winter mornings cold and drear, 
 When six o'clock alarms I hear, 
 'Tis then I love to shift my ear, 
 
 And hug my downy pillows. 
 When in the shade it's ninety-three, 
 No job in town looks good to me, 
 I'd rather loaf down by the sea, 
 
 And watch the foaming billows. 
 
 [45] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 Some people think the world's a school, 
 Where labor is the only rule ; 
 But I'll not make myself a mule, 
 
 And don't you ever doubt it. 
 I know that work may have its use, 
 But still I feel that's no excuse 
 For turning it into abuse ; 
 
 What do you think about it? 
 
 Let others fume and sweat and boil, 
 And scratch and dig for golden spoil, 
 And live the life of work and toil, 
 
 Their lives to labor giving. 
 But what is gold when life is sped, 
 And life is short, as has been said, 
 And we are such a long time dead, 
 
 I'll spend my life in living. 
 
 OMAR 
 
 Old Omar, jolly sceptic, it may be 
 That, after all, you found the magic key 
 To life and all its mystery, and I 
 Must own you have almost persuaded me, 
 
 [46] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 DEEP IN THE QUIET WOOD 
 
 Are you bowed down in heart? 
 
 Do you but hear the clashing discords and the 
 din of life? 
 
 Then come away, come to the peaceful wood, 
 
 Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now, 
 
 From out the palpitating solitude 
 
 Do you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains? 
 
 They are above, around, within you, every 
 where. 
 
 Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, 
 they come. 
 
 They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in 
 singing tones. 
 
 Not let your soul run the whole gamut of the 
 wondrous scale 
 
 Until, responsive to the tonic chord, 
 
 It touches the diapason of God's grand cathe 
 dral organ, 
 
 Filling earth for you with heavenly peace 
 
 And holy harmonies. 
 
 VOLUPTAS 
 
 To chase a never-reached mirage 
 Across the hot, white sand, 
 And choke and die, while gazing on 
 Its green and watered strand. 
 
 [47] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGINEER 
 
 " She's built of steel 
 From deck to keel, 
 And bolted strong and tight; 
 In scorn she'll sail 
 The fiercest gale, 
 And pierce the darkest night. 
 
 " The builder's art 
 Has proved each part 
 Throughout her breadth and length ; 
 Deep in the hulk, 
 Of her mighty bulk, 
 Ten thousand Titans' strength." 
 
 The tempest howls, 
 
 The Ice Wolf prowls, 
 
 The winds they shift and veer, 
 
 But calm I sleep, 
 
 And faith I keep 
 
 In the word of an engineer. 
 
 Along the trail 
 Of the slender rail 
 The train, like a nightmare, flies 
 And dashes on 
 
 Through the black-mouthed yawn 
 Where the cavernous tunnel lies. 
 [48] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 Over the ridge, 
 
 Across the bridge, 
 
 Swung twixt the sky and hell, 
 
 On an iron thread 
 
 Spun from the head 
 
 Of the man in a draughtsman's cell. 
 
 And so we ride 
 
 Over land and tide, 
 
 Without a thought of fear 
 
 Man never had 
 
 The faith in God 
 
 That he has in an engineer! 
 
 LIFE 
 
 Out of the infinite sea of eternity 
 To climb, and for an instant stand 
 Upon an island speck of time. 
 
 From the impassible peace of the darkness 
 To wake, and blink at the garish light 
 Through one short hour of fretfulness. 
 
 [49] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 SLEEP 
 
 O Sleep, thou kindest minister to man, 
 
 Silent distiller of the balm of rest, 
 How wonderful thy power, when naught else can, 
 
 To soothe the torn and sorrow-laden breast! 
 When bleeding hearts no comforter can find, 
 
 When burdened souls droop under weight of 
 
 woe, 
 When thought is torture to the troubled mind, 
 
 When grief-relieving tears refuse to flow ; 
 'Tis then thou comest on soft-beating wings, 
 
 And sweet oblivion's peace from them is shed ; 
 But ah, the old pain that the waking brings! 
 
 That lives again so soon as thou art fled ! 
 
 Man, why should thought of death cause thee 
 
 to weep ; 
 Since death be but an endless, dreamless sleep? 
 
 [50] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 PRAYER AT SUNRISE 
 
 O mighty, powerful, dark-dispelling sun, 
 
 Now thou art risen, and thy day begun. 
 
 How shrink the shrouding mists before thy face, 
 
 As up thou spring'st to thy diurnal race ! 
 
 How darkness chases darkness to the west, 
 
 As shades of light on light rise radiant from thy 
 
 crest ! 
 For thee, great source of strength, emblem of 
 
 might, 
 
 In hours of darkest gloom there is no night. 
 Thou shinest on though clouds hide thee from 
 
 sight, 
 And through each break thou sendest down thy 
 
 light. 
 
 O greater Maker of this Thy great sun, 
 Give me the strength this one day's race to run, 
 Fill me with light, fill me with sun-like strength, 
 Fill me with joy to rob the day its length. 
 Light from within, light that will outward shine, 
 Strength to make strong some weaker heart 
 
 than mine, 
 
 Joy to make glad each soul that feels its touch; 
 Great Father of the sun, I ask this much. 
 
 [51 
 
FIFTY YEARS y OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE GIFT TO SING 
 
 Sometimes the mist overhangs my path, 
 And blackening clouds about me cling ; 
 But, oh, I have a magic way 
 To turn the gloom to cheerful day 
 I softly sing. 
 
 And if the way grows darker still, 
 Shadowed by Sorrow's somber wing, 
 With glad defiance in my throat, 
 I pierce the darkness with a note, 
 And sing, and sing. 
 
 I brood not over the broken past, 
 Nor dread whatever time may bring; 
 No nights are dark, no days are long, 
 While in my heart there swells a song, 
 And I can sing. 
 
 MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT 
 
 When morning shows her first faint flush, 
 I think of the tender blush 
 That crept so gently to your cheek 
 When first my love I dared to speak; 
 How, in your glance, a dawning ray 
 Gave promise of love's perfect day. 
 [52] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fcf OTHER POEMS 
 
 When, in the ardent breath of noon, 
 The roses with passion swoon ; 
 There steals upon me from the air 
 The scent that lurked within your hair ; 
 I touch your hand, I clasp your form 
 Again your lips are close and warm. 
 
 When comes the night with beauteous skies, 
 I think of your tear-dimmed eyes, 
 Their mute entreaty that I stay, 
 Although your lips sent me away ; 
 And then falls memory's bitter blight, 
 And dark so dark becomes the night. 
 
 HER EYES TWIN POOLS 
 
 Her eyes, twin pools of mystic light, 
 The blend of star-sheen and black night ; 
 O'er which, to sound their glamouring haze, 
 A man might bend, and vainly gaze. 
 
 Her eyes, twin pools so dark and deep, 
 In which life's ancient mysteries sleep; 
 Wherein, to seek the quested goal, 
 A man might plunge, and lose his soul. 
 
 [53] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 I dreamed that I was a rose 
 That grew beside a lonely way, 
 Close by a path none ever chose, 
 And there I lingered day by day. 
 Beneath the sunshine and the show'r 
 I grew and waited there apart, 
 Gathering perfume hour by hour, 
 And storing it within my heart, 
 
 Yet, never knew, 
 Just why I waited there and grew. 
 
 I dreamed that you were a bee 
 That one day gaily flew along, 
 You came across the hedge to me, 
 And sang a soft, love-burdened song. 
 You brushed my petals with a kiss, 
 I woke to gladness with a start, 
 And yielded up to you in bliss 
 The treasured fragrance of my heart ; 
 
 And then I knew 
 That I had waited there for you. 
 
 [54] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD 
 
 When buffeted and beaten by life's storms, 
 When by the bitter cares of life oppressed, 
 I want no surer haven than your arms, 
 I want no sweeter heaven than your breast. 
 
 When over my life's way there falls the blight 
 Of sunless days, and nights of starless skies; 
 Enough for me, the calm and steadfast light 
 That softly shines within your loving eyes. 
 
 The world, for me, and all the world can hold 
 Is circled by your arms; for me there lies, 
 Within the lights and shadows of your eyes, 
 The only beauty that is never old. 
 
 [55] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 VENUS IN A GARDEN 
 
 'Twas at early morning, 
 
 The dawn was blushing in her purple bed, 
 
 When in a sweet, embowered garden 
 
 She, the fairest of the goddesses, 
 
 The lovely Venus, 
 
 Roamed amongst the roses white and red. 
 
 She sought for flowers 
 
 To make a garland 
 
 For her golden head. 
 
 Snow-white roses, blood-red roses, 
 In that sweet garden close, 
 Offered incense to the goddess: 
 Both the white and the crimson rose. 
 
 White roses, red roses, blossoming: 
 But the fair Venus knew 
 The crimson roses had gained their hue 
 From the hearts that for love had bled ; 
 And the goddess made a garland 
 Gathered from the roses red. 
 
 [56] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fe? OTHER POEMS 
 
 VASHTI 
 
 I sometimes take you in my dreams to a far- 
 off land I used to know, 
 
 Back in the ages long ago ; a land of palms and 
 languid streams. 
 
 A land, by night, of jeweled skies, by day, of 
 
 shores that glistened bright, 
 Within whose arms, outstretched and white, a 
 
 sapphire sea lay crescent-wise. 
 
 Where twilight fell like silver floss, where rose 
 
 the golden moon half-hid 
 Behind a shadowy pyramid ; a land beneath the 
 
 Southern Cross. 
 
 And there the days dreamed in their flight, each 
 
 one a poem chanted through, 
 Which at its close was merged into the muted 
 
 music of the night. 
 
 And you were a princess in those days. And I 
 
 I was your serving lad. 
 But who ever served with heart so glad, or lived 
 
 so for a word of praise? 
 
 157] 
 
FIFTY YEARS V OTHER POEMS 
 
 And if that word you chanced to speak, how all 
 my senses swayed and reeled, 
 
 Till low beside your feet I kneeled, with happi 
 ness o'erwrought and weak. 
 
 If, when your golden cup I bore, you deigned to 
 
 lower your eyes to mine, 
 Eyes cold, yet fervid, like the wine, I knew not 
 
 how to wish for more. 
 
 I trembled at the thought to dare to gaze upon, 
 
 to scrutinize 
 The deep-sea mystery of your eyes, the sun-lit 
 
 splendor of your hair. 
 
 To let my timid glances rest upon you long 
 
 enough to note 
 How fair and slender was your throat, how 
 
 white the promise of your breast. 
 
 But though I did not dare to chance a lingering 
 
 look, an open gaze 
 Upon your beauty's blinding rays, I ventured 
 
 many a stolen glance. 
 
 I fancy, too, (but could not state what trick of 
 
 mind the fancy caused) 
 At times your eyes upon me paused, and marked 
 
 my figure lithe and straight. 
 [58] 
 
FIFTY YEARS y OTHER POEMS 
 
 Once when my eyes met yours it seemed that in 
 your cheek, despite your pride, 
 
 A flush arose and swiftly died ; or was it some 
 thing that I dreamed? 
 
 Within your radiance like the star of morning, 
 
 there I stood and served, 
 Close by, unheeded, unobserved. You were so 
 
 near, and, yet, so far. 
 
 Ah ! just to stretch my hand and touch the musky 
 
 sandals on your feet! 
 My breaking heart! of rapture sweet it never 
 
 could have held so much. 
 
 Oh, beauty-haunted memory! Your face so 
 
 proud, your eyes so calm, 
 Your body like a slim young palm, and sinuous 
 
 as a willow tree. 
 
 Caught up beneath your slender arms, and 
 girdled 'round your supple waist, 
 
 A robe of curious silk that graced, but only scarce 
 concealed your charms. 
 
 A golden band about your head, a crimson jewel 
 
 at your throat 
 Which, when the sunlight on it smote, turned 
 
 to a living heart and bled. 
 [59] 
 
FIFTY YEARS fef OTHER POEMS 
 
 But, oh, that mystic bleeding stone, that work 
 
 of Nature's magic art, 
 Which mimicked so a wounded heart, could 
 
 never bleed as did my own ! 
 
 Now after ages long and sad, in this stern land 
 
 we meet anew ; 
 No more a princess proud are you, and I I am 
 
 no serving lad. 
 
 And yet, dividing us, I meet a wider gulf than 
 
 that which stood 
 Between a princess of the blood and him who 
 
 served low at her feet. 
 
 THE REWARD 
 
 No greater earthly boon than this I crave, 
 That those who some day gather 'round my 
 
 grave, 
 
 In place of tears, may whisper of me then, 
 "He sang a song that reached the hearts of 
 
 [60] 
 
JINGLES &? CROONS 
 
JINGLES 6? CROONS 
 
 SENCE YOU WENT AWAY 
 
 Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright, 
 Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light, 
 Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right, 
 Sence you went away. 
 
 Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue, 
 Seems lak to me dat ev'y thing wants you, 
 Seems lak to me I don't know what to do, 
 Sence you went away. 
 
 Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong, 
 Seems lak to me de day's jes twice as long, 
 Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song, 
 Sence you went away. 
 
 Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh, 
 Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry, 
 Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye, 
 Sence you went away. 
 
 [63] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 MA LADY'S LIPS AM LIKE DE HONEY 
 
 (Negro Love Song) 
 
 Breeze a-sighin' and a-blowin', 
 Southern summer night. 
 Stars a-gleamin' and a-glowin', 
 Moon jes shinin' right. 
 Strollin', like all lovers do, 
 Down de lane wid Lindy Lou ; 
 Honey on her lips to waste ; 
 'Speck I'm gwine to steal a taste. 
 
 Oh, ma lady's lips am like de honey, 
 Ma lady's lips am like de rose; 
 An' I'm jes like de little bee a-buzzin' 
 'Round de flower wha' de nectah grows. 
 Ma lady's lips dey smile so temptin', 
 Ma lady's teeth so white dey shine, 
 Oh, ma lady's lips so tantalizin', 
 Ma lady's lips so close to mine. 
 
 Bird a-whistlin' and a-swayin' 
 In de live-oak tree; 
 Seems to me he keeps a-sayin', 
 "Kissdatgalfo'me." 
 Look heah, Mister Mockin' Bird, 
 Gwine to take you at yo' word ; 
 If I meets ma Waterloo, 
 Gwine to blame it all on you. 
 [64] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 Oh, ma lady's lips am like de honey, 
 Ma lady's lips am like de rose; 
 An' I'm jes like de little bee a-buzzin' 
 'Round de flower wha' de nectah grows. 
 Ma lady's lips dey smile so temptin', 
 Ma lady's teeth so white dey shine, 
 Oh, ma lady's lips so tantalizin', 
 Ma lady's lips so close to mine. 
 
 Honey in de rose, I spose, is 
 
 Put der fo' de bee ; 
 
 Honey on her lips, I knows, is 
 
 Put der jes fo' me. 
 
 Seen a sparkle in her eye, 
 
 Heard her heave a little sigh ; 
 
 Felt her kinder squeeze ma han', 
 
 'Nuff to make me understan'. 
 
 [65] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 TUNK 
 
 (A Lecture on Modern Education) 
 
 Look heah, Tunk! Now, ain't dis awful! 
 
 T'ought I sont you off to school. 
 Don't you know dat you is growin' up to be a 
 
 reg'lah fool? 
 
 Whah's dem books dat I's done bought you? 
 
 Look heah, boy, you tell me quick, 
 Whah's dat Webster blue-back spellah an' dat 
 
 bran' new 'rifmatic? 
 
 W'ile I'm t'inkin' you is lahnin' in de school, 
 
 why bless ma soul ! 
 You off in de woods a-playin' . Can't you do like 
 
 you is tole? 
 
 Boy, I tell you, it's jes scan'lous d'way dat you 
 
 is goin' on. 
 An' you sholy go'n be sorry, jes as true as you 
 
 is bo'n. 
 
 Heah I'm try in' hard to raise you as a credit to 
 
 dis race, 
 An' you tryin' heap much harder fu' to come up 
 
 in disgrace. 
 
 [66] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Dese de days w'en men don't git up to de top 
 
 by hooks an' crooks; 
 Tell you now, dey's got to git der standin' on 
 
 a pile o' books. 
 
 W'en you sees a darkey goin' to de fiel' as soon 
 
 as light, 
 Followin' a mule across it f'om de mawnin' tel 
 
 de night, 
 
 Wukin' all his life fu' vittles, hoein' 'tween de 
 
 cott'n rows, 
 W'en he knocks off ole an' tiah'd, ownin' nut'n 
 
 but his clo'es, 
 
 You kin put it down to ignunce, aftah all what's 
 
 done an' said, 
 You kin bet dat dat same darkey ain't got nut'n 
 
 in his head. 
 
 Ain't you seed dem w'ite men set'n in der 
 
 awfice? Don't you know 
 Dey goes der 'bout nine each mawnin'? Bless 
 
 yo' soul, dey's out by fo'. 
 
 Dey jes does a little writin' ; does dat by some 
 
 easy means; 
 Gals jes set an' play piannah on dem printin' 
 
 press muchines. 
 
 [67] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 Chile, dem men knows how to figgah, how to 
 
 use dat little pen, 
 An' dey knows dat blue-back spellah f'om be- 
 
 ginnin' to de en'. 
 
 Dat's de 'feet of education; dat's de t'ing what's 
 
 gwine to rule ; 
 Git dem books, you lazy rascal ! Git back to yo' 
 
 place in school ! 
 
 [68] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 NOBODY'S LOOKIN' BUT DE OWL 
 AND DE MOON 
 
 (A Negro Serenade) 
 
 De river is a-glistenin' in de moonlight, 
 De owl is set'n high up in de tree; 
 De little stars am twinklin' wid a sof light, 
 De night seems only jes fu' you an' me. 
 Thoo de trees de breezes am a-sighin', 
 Breathin' out a sort o' lover's croon, 
 Der's nobody lookin' or a-spyin', 
 Nobody but de owl an' de moon. 
 
 Nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon, 
 An' de night is balmy; fu' de month is June; 
 Come den, Honey, won't you? Come to meet 
 
 me soon, 
 Wile nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon. 
 
 I feel so kinder lonely all de daytime, 
 It seems I raly don't know what to do; 
 I jes keep sort a-longin' fu' de night-time, 
 'Cause den I know dat I can be wid you. 
 An' de thought jes sets my brain a-swayin', 
 An' my heart a-beatin' to a tune; 
 Come, de owl won't tell w'at we's a-sayin', 
 An' cose you know we kin trus' de moon. 
 
 [69] 
 
JINGLES V CROONS 
 
 YOU'S SWEET TO YO' MAMMY 
 JES DE SAME 
 
 (Lullaby) 
 
 Shet yo' eyes, ma little pickaninny, go to sleep 
 Mammy's watchin' by you all de w'ile; 
 Daddy is a-wukin' down in de cott'n fiel', 
 Wukin' fu' his little honey child. 
 An* yo' mammy's heart is jes a-brimmin' full 
 
 o'lub 
 
 Fu' you f'om yo' head down to yo' feet; 
 Oh, no mattah w'at some othah folks may 
 
 t'ink o' you, 
 To yo' mammy's heart you's mighty sweet. 
 
 You's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same; 
 
 Dat's why she calls you Honey fu' yo' name. 
 
 Yo' face is black, dat's true, 
 
 An' yo' hair is woolly, too, 
 
 But, you's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same. 
 
 Up der in de big house w'ere dey lib so rich an' 
 
 gran' 
 
 Dey's got chillen dat dey lubs, I s'pose; 
 Chillen dat is purty, oh, but dey can't lub dem 
 
 mo* 
 Dan yo' mammy lubs you, heaben knows! 
 
 [70] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Dey may t'ink you's homely, an' yo' clo'es dey 
 
 may be po', 
 
 But yo' shinin' eyes, dey hoi's a light 
 Dat, my Honey, w'en you opens dem so big an* 
 
 roun', 
 Makes you lubly in yo' mammy's sight. 
 
 A PLANTATION BACCHANAL 
 
 W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin' 
 
 High up in de sky; 
 
 W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' 
 
 a-bangin', 
 
 An' de crap's done all laid by; 
 W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics, 
 Den yo' ride de mule to town, 
 Git a great big jug o* de ole corn juice, 
 An' w'en you drink her down 
 
 Jes lay away ole Trouble, 
 An' dry up all yo' tears; 
 Yo' pleasure sho' to double 
 An' you bound to lose yo' keers. 
 Jes lay away ole Sorrer 
 High upon de shelf; 
 And never mind to-morrer, 
 'Twill take care of itself. 
 
 [71] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 Wen ole Mister Age begins a-stealin' 
 
 Thoo yo' back an' knees, 
 
 Wen yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin', 
 
 An' am stiff'nin' by degrees; 
 
 Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry, 
 
 Wen you heah dem banjos soun' 
 
 Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice, 
 
 An' w'en you drink her down 
 
 Jes lay away ole Trouble, 
 An' dry up all yo' tears; 
 Yo' pleasure sho' to double 
 An' you bound to lose yo' keers. 
 Jes lay away ole Sorrer 
 High upon de shelf; 
 And never mind to-morrer, 
 'Twill take care of itself. 
 
 [72] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 JULY IN GEORGY 
 
 I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is 
 
 shinin' hot, 
 W'ere de cawn it is a-tasslin', gittin' ready fu' 
 
 de pot; 
 
 W'ere de cott'n is a-openin' an' a-w'itenin' in 
 
 de sun, 
 An' de ripenin' o' de sugah-cane is mighty nigh 
 
 begun. 
 
 An' de locus' is a-singin' f'om eveh bush an' 
 tree, 
 
 An' you kin heah de hummin' o' de noisy bum 
 blebee ; 
 
 An' de mule he Stan's a-dreamin' an' a-dreamin' 
 
 in de lot, 
 An' de sun it is a-shinin' mighty hot, hot, hot. 
 
 But evehbody is a-restin', fu' de craps is all laid 
 
 by, 
 
 An' time fu' de camp-meetin' is a-drawin' purty 
 nigh; 
 
 An' we's put away de ploughshare, an' we's done 
 
 hung up de spade, 
 An' we's eatin' watermelon, an' a-layin' in de 
 
 shade. 
 
 [73] 
 
JINGLES tf CROONS 
 
 A BANJO SONG 
 
 Wen de banjos wuz a-ringin', 
 
 An' de darkies wuz a-singin', 
 
 Oh, wuzen dem de good times sho! 
 
 All de ole folks would be chattin', 
 
 An' de pickaninnies pattin', 
 
 As dey heah'd de feet a-shufflin' 'cross de flo', 
 
 An' how we'd dance, an' how we'd sing! 
 Dance tel de day done break. 
 An' how dem banjos dey would ring, 
 An' de cabin flo' would shake! 
 
 Come along, come along, 
 Come along, come along, 
 Don't you heah dem banjos a-ringin'; 
 
 Gib a song, gib a song, 
 Gib a song, gib a song, 
 Git yo' feet fixed up fu' a-wingin'. 
 
 Wile de banjos dey go plunka, plunka, plunk, 
 
 We'll dance tel de ole flo' shake; 
 
 Wile de feet keep a-goin' chooka, chooka, 
 
 chook, 
 We'll dance tel de day done break. 
 
 [74] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 ANSWER TO PRAYER 
 
 Der ain't no use in say in' de Lawd won't answer 
 
 prah; 
 If you knows how to ax Him, I knows He's 
 
 bound to heah. 
 
 De trouble is, some people don't ax de proper 
 
 way, 
 Den w'en dey git's no answer dey doubts de use 
 
 to pray. 
 
 You got to use egzac'ly de 'spressions an' de 
 
 words 
 To show dat 'tween yo' faith an' works, you 
 
 'pends on works two-thirds. 
 
 Now, one time I remember jes how long 
 
 I won't say 
 I thought I'd like a turkey to eat on Chris'mus 
 
 day. 
 
 Fu' weeks I dreamed 'bout turkeys, a-struttin' 
 
 in der pride ; 
 But seed no way to get one widout de Lawd 
 
 pervide. 
 
 An' so I went to prayin', I pray'd wid all my 
 might; 
 
 [75] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 " Lawd, sen' to me a turkey." I pray'd bofe 
 day an' night. 
 
 " Lawd, sen' to me a turkey, a big one if you 
 
 please." 
 I 'clar to heaben I pray'd so much I mos' wore 
 
 out ma knees. 
 
 I pray'd dat prah so often, I pray'd dat prah so 
 
 long, 
 Yet didn't git no turkey, I know'd 'twas sump'n 
 
 wrong. 
 
 So on de night 'fore Chris'mus w'en I got down 
 
 to pray, 
 " Lawd, sen' me to a turkey," I had de sense 
 
 to say. 
 
 " Lawd, sen' me to a turkey." I know dat prah 
 
 was right, 
 An' it was sholy answer'd; I got de bird dat 
 
 night. 
 
 [76] 
 
JINGLES fcf CROONS 
 
 DAT GAL O' MINE 
 
 Skin as black an' jes as sof as a velvet dress, 
 Teeth as white as ivory well dey is I guess. 
 
 Eyes dat's jes as big an' bright as de evenin' 
 
 star; 
 An' dat hoi' some sort o' light lublier by far. 
 
 Hair don't hang 'way down her back; plaited 
 
 up in rows; 
 Wid de two en's dat's behin' tied wid ribben 
 
 bows. 
 
 Han's dat raly wuz'n made fu' hard work, I'm 
 
 sho'; 
 Got a little bit o' foot; weahs a numbah fo'. 
 
 You jes oughtah see dat gal Sunday's w'en she 
 
 goes 
 To de Baptis' meetin' house, dressed in her 
 
 bes' clo'es. 
 
 W'en she puts her w'ite dress on an' othah 
 
 things so fine ; 
 Now, Su', don't you know I'm proud o' dat gal 
 
 o' mine. 
 
 [77] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 Wen de leaves begin to fall, 
 
 An' de fros' is on de ground, 
 
 An' de 'simmons is a-ripenin' on de tree; 
 
 Wen I heah de dinner call, 
 
 An' de chillen gadder 'round, 
 
 'Tis den de 'possum is de meat fu' me. 
 
 Wen de wintertime am pas' 
 
 An' de spring is come at las', 
 
 Wen de good ole summer sun begins to shine; 
 
 Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn, 
 
 An' my heart begins to yearn 
 
 Fo' dat watermelon growin' on de vine. 
 
 Now, de yeah will sholy bring 
 
 'Round a season fu' us all, 
 
 Ev'y one kin pick his season f 'om de res' ; 
 
 But de melon in de spring, 
 
 An' de 'possum in de fall, 
 
 Mek it hard to tell which time o' year am bes'. 
 
 [78] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 'POSSUM SONG 
 
 (A Warning} 
 
 'Simmons ripenin' in de fall, 
 
 You better run, 
 
 B rudder 'Possum, run! 
 
 Mockin' bird commence to call, 
 
 You better run, B rudder 'Possum, git out de 
 
 way! 
 You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de 
 
 way! 
 
 Run some whar an' hide! 
 Ole moon am sinkin' 
 Down behin' de tree. 
 Ole Eph am thinkin' 
 An' chuckelin' wid glee. 
 Ole Tige am blinkin' 
 An' frisky as kin be, 
 Yo' chances, Brudder 'Possum, 
 Look mighty slim to me. 
 
 Run, run, run, I tell you, 
 Run, Brudder 'Possum, run! 
 Run, run, run, I tell you, 
 Ole Eph's got a gun. 
 Pickaninnies grinnin' 
 Waitin' fu' to see de fun. 
 
 [79] 
 
JINGLES & CROONS 
 
 You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de 
 
 way! 
 Run, Brudder 'Possum, run! 
 
 Brudder 'Possum take a tip; 
 
 You better run, 
 
 Brudder 'Possum, run! 
 
 'Tain't no use in actin' flip, 
 
 You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de 
 
 way! 
 You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de 
 
 way! 
 
 Run some whar an' hide. 
 Dey's gwine to houn' you 
 All along de line, 
 Wen dey done foun' you, 
 Den what's de use in sighin'? 
 Wid taters roun* you. 
 You sholy would tase fine 
 So listen, Brudder 'Possum, 
 You better be a-flyin'. 
 
 Run, run, run, I tell you, 
 Run, Brudder 'Possum, run! 
 Run, run, run, I tell you, 
 Ole Eph's got a gun. 
 Pickaninnies grinnin' 
 Wai tin' fu' to see de fun. 
 
 You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way! 
 Run, Brudder 'Possum, run! 
 [80] 
 
JINGLES V CROONS 
 
 BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' 
 OF 'EM ALL 
 
 Once der was a meetin* in de wilderness, 
 
 All de critters of creation dey was dar ; 
 
 Brer Rabbit, Brer 'Possum, Brer Wolf, Brer 
 
 Fox, 
 
 King Lion, Mister Terrapin, Mister B'ar. 
 De question fu' discussion was, u Who is de 
 
 bigges' man?" 
 
 Dey 'pinted ole Jedge Owl to decide; 
 He polished up his spectacles an' put 'em on his 
 
 nose, 
 An' to the question slowly he replied: 
 
 "Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin', 
 
 Brer Fox am mighty sly, 
 
 Brer Terrapin an' 'Possum kinder small; 
 
 Brer Lion's mighty vicious, 
 
 Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious, 
 
 Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all." 
 
 Dis caused a great confusion 'mongst de animals, 
 Ev'y critter claimed dat he had won de prize; 
 Dey 'sputed an' dey arg'ed, dey growled an' dey 
 
 roared, 
 Den putty soon de dus' begin to rise. 
 
 [81 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Brer Rabbit he jes' stood aside an' urged 'em 
 
 on to fight. 
 
 Brer Lion he mos' tore Brer B'ar in two; 
 Wen dey was all so tiahd dat dey couldn't catch 
 
 der bref 
 Brer Rabbit he jes' grabbed de prize an' flew. 
 
 Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin', 
 
 Brer Fox am mighty sly, 
 
 Brer Terrapin an' Possum kinder small; 
 
 Brer Lion's mighty vicious, 
 
 Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious, 
 
 Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 Look heah ! 'Splain to me de reason 
 Why you said to Squire Lee, 
 Der wuz twelve ole chicken thieves 
 In dis heah town, includin' me. 
 Ef he tole you dat, my brudder, 
 He said sump'n dat warn't true; 
 W'at I said wuz dis, dat der wuz 
 Twelve, widout includin' you. 
 
 Oh! ... ! 
 
 [82] 
 
JINGLES fcf CROONS 
 
 DE LITTLE PICKANINNY'S GONE 
 TO SLEEP 
 
 Cuddle down, ma honey, in yo' bed, 
 Go to sleep an' res' yo' little head, 
 Been a-kind o' ailin' all de day? 
 Didn't have no sperit fu' to play? 
 Never min' ; to-morrer, w'en you wek, 
 Daddy's gwine to ride you on his bek, 
 'Roun' an' roun' de cabin flo' so fas' 
 Der! He's closed his little eyes at las'. 
 
 De little pickaninny's gone to sleep, 
 Cuddled in his trundle bed so tiny, 
 De little pickaninny's gone to sleep, 
 Closed his little eyes so bright an' shiny. 
 Hush! an' w'en you walk across de flo' 
 Step across it very sof an' slow. 
 De shadders all aroun' begin to creep, 
 De little pickaninny's gone to sleep. 
 
 Mandy, w'at's de matter wid dat chile? 
 Keeps a-sighin' ev'y little w'ile; 
 Seems to me I heayhd him sorter groan, 
 Lord! his little han's am col' as stone! 
 W'at's dat far-off light dat's in his eyes? 
 Dat's a light dey's borrow'd f'om de skies; 
 Fol' his little han's across his breas', 
 Let de little pickaninny res'. 
 
 [83] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 THE RIVALS 
 
 Look heah! Is I evah tole you 'bout de curious 
 
 way I won 
 Anna Liza? Say, I nevah? Well heah's how 
 
 de thing wuz done. 
 
 Lize, you know, wuz mighty purty dat's 
 
 been forty yeahs ago 
 'N 'cos to look at her dis minit, you might'n 
 
 spose dat it wuz so. 
 
 She wuz jes de greates' 'traction in de county, 
 
 'n bless de lam' ! 
 Eveh darkey wuz a-co'tin, but it lay 'twix me 
 
 an' Sam. 
 
 You know Sam. We both wuz wukin' on de ole 
 
 John Tompkin's place. 
 'N evehbody wuz a-watchin' t'see who's gwine 
 
 to win de race. 
 
 Hee! hee! hee! Now you mus' raley 'scuse me fu' 
 
 dis snickering, 
 But I jes can't he'p f 'om laffin' eveh time I tells 
 
 dis thing. 
 
 [84] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Ez I wuz a-sayin', me an' Sam wuked daily side 
 
 by side, 
 He a-studyin', me a-studyin', how to win Lize 
 
 fu' a bride. 
 
 Well, de race was kinder equal, Lize wuz sorter 
 
 on de fence; 
 Sam he had de mostes dollars, an' I had de mostes 
 
 sense. 
 
 Things dey run along 'bout eben tel der come 
 
 Big Meetin' day; 
 Sam den thought, to win Miss Liza, he had 
 
 foun' de shoest way. 
 
 An' you talk about big meetin's! None been 
 
 like it 'fore nor sence; 
 Der wuz sich a crowd o' people dat we had to 
 
 put up tents. 
 
 Der wuz preachers f'om de Eas', an' 'der wuz 
 
 preachers f'om de Wes' ; 
 Folks had kilt mos' eveh chicken, an* wuz fat- 
 
 tenin' up de res'. 
 
 Gals had all got new w'ite dresses, an' bought 
 
 ribbens fu' der hair, 
 Fixin' fu' de openin' Sunday, prayin' dat de 
 
 day'd be fair. 
 
 [85] 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Dat de Reveren' Jasper Jones of Mount Moriah, 
 
 it wuz 'low'd, 
 Wuz to preach de openin' sermon; so you know 
 
 der wuz a crowd. 
 
 Fu' dat man wuz sho a preacher; had a voice 
 
 jes like a bull; 
 So der ain't no use in sayin' dat de meetin' house 
 
 wuz full. 
 
 Folks wuz der f 'om Big Pine Hollow, some come 
 
 'way f'om Muddy Creek, 
 Some come jes to stay fu' Sunday, but de crowd 
 
 stay'd thoo de week. 
 
 Some come ridin' in top-buggies wid de w'eels 
 
 all painted red, 
 Pulled by mules dat run like rabbits, each one 
 
 tryin' to git ahead. 
 
 Othah po'rer folks come drivin' mules dat 
 
 leaned up 'ginst de shaf, 
 Hitched to broke-down, creaky wagons dat 
 
 looked like dey'd drap in half. 
 
 But de bigges' crowd come walkin', wid der new 
 
 shoes on der backs; 
 'Scuse wuz dat dey couldn't weah em 'cause de 
 
 heels wuz full o' tacks. 
 [86] 
 
JINGLES & CROONS 
 
 Fact is, it's a job for Job, a-trudgin' in de sun an* 
 
 heat, 
 Down a long an' dusty clay road wid yo' shoes 
 
 packed full o' feet. 
 
 'Cose dey stopt an' put dem shoes on w'en dey 
 
 got mos' to de do' ; 
 Den dey had to grin an' bear it; dat tuk good 
 
 religion sho. 
 
 But I mos' forgot ma story, well at las' dat 
 
 Sunday came 
 And it seemed dat evehbody, blin' an' deef, an* 
 
 halt an' lame, 
 
 Wuz out in de grove a-waitin' fu' de meetin' to 
 
 begin ; 
 Ef dat crowd had got converted 'twould a been 
 
 de end o* sin. 
 
 Lize wuz der in all her glory, purty ez a big sun- 
 
 flowah, 
 I kin 'member how she looked jes same ez 'twuz 
 
 dis ve'y houah. 
 
 But to make ma story shorter, w'ile we wuz 
 
 a-waitin' der, 
 Down de road we spied a cloud o' dus' dat filled 
 
 up all de air. 
 
 [87] 
 
JINGLES fcf CROONS 
 
 An' ez we kep' on a-lookin', out f'om 'mongst 
 
 dat ve'y cloud, 
 Sam, on Marse John's big mule, Caesar, rode 
 
 right slam up in de crowd. 
 
 You jes oughtah seed dat darkey, 'clar I like 
 
 tah loss ma bref ; 
 Fu' to use a common 'spression, he wuz 'bout 
 
 nigh dressed to def. 
 
 He had slipped to town dat Sat'day, didn't let 
 
 nobody know, 
 An' had car'yd all his cash an' lef it in de dry 
 
 goods sto'. 
 
 He had on a bran' new suit o' sto'-bought clo'es, 
 
 a high plug hat; 
 He looked 'zactly like a gen 'man, tain't no use 
 
 d'nyin' dat. 
 
 Wen he got down off dat mule an' bowed to 
 
 Liza I could see 
 How she looked at him so 'dmirin', an' jes kinder 
 
 glanced at me. 
 
 Den I know'd to win dat gal, I sho would need 
 
 some othah means 
 'Sides a-hangin' 'round big meetin' in a suit o' 
 
 homespun jeans. 
 
 [88] 
 
JINGLES fef CROONS 
 
 Wen dey blow'd de ho'n fu' preachin', an' de 
 
 crowd all went inside, 
 I jes felt ez doh I'd like tah go off in de woods 
 
 an' hide. 
 
 So I stay'd outside de meetin', set'n underneat' 
 
 de trees, 
 Seemed to me I sot der ages, wid ma elbows on 
 
 ma knees. 
 
 Wen dey sung dat hymn, ''Nobody knows de 
 
 trouble dat I see," 
 Seem'd to me dat dey wuz singin' even word o' 
 
 it fu' me. 
 
 Jes how long I might ha' sot der, actin' like a 
 
 cussed fool, 
 I don't know, but it jes happen'd dat I look'd 
 
 an' saw Sam's mule. 
 
 An' de thought come slowly tricklin' thoo ma 
 
 brain right der an' den, 
 Dat, perhaps, wid some persuasion, I could 
 
 make dat mule ma fren! 
 
 An' I jes kep' on a-thinkin', an' I kep' a-lookin' 
 
 'roun', 
 Tel I spied two great big san' spurs right close 
 
 by me on de groun'. 
 
JINGLES y CROONS 
 
 Well, I took dem spurs an' put em underneat' o' 
 
 Caesar's saddle, 
 So dey'd press down in his backbone soon ez 
 
 Sam had got a-straddle. 
 
 'Twuz a pretty ticklish job, an' jes ez soon ez it 
 
 wuz done, 
 I went back w'ere I wuz set'n fu' to wait an' see 
 
 de fun. 
 
 Purty soon heah come de people, jes a-swa'min' 
 
 out de do', 
 Talkin' 'bout de "pow'ful sermon" "nevah 
 
 heah'dde likes befoV 
 
 How de "monahs fell convicted" jes de same 
 
 ez lumps o' lead, 
 How dat some wuz still a-layin' same es if dey'd 
 
 been struck dead. 
 
 An* to rectly heah come Liza, Sam a-strollin' by 
 
 her side, 
 An' it seem'd to me dat darky's smile wuz 'bout 
 
 twelve inches wide. 
 
 Look to me like he had swelled up to 'bout 
 
 twice his natchul size, 
 An' I heah'd him say, "I'd like to be yo' 'scort 
 
 to-night, Miss Lize." 
 [90] 
 
JINGLES tf CROONS 
 
 Den he made a bow jes like he's gwine to make 
 
 a speech in school, 
 An' walk'd jes ez proud ez Marse John over to 
 
 untie his mule, 
 
 Wen Sam's foot fust touched de stirrup he 
 know'd der wuz sump'n wrong; 
 
 'Cuz de mule begin to tremble an' to sorter side 
 along. 
 
 Wen Sam raised his weight to mount him, 
 
 Caesar bristled up his ear, 
 Wen Sam sot down in de saddle, den dat mule 
 
 cummenced to rear. 
 
 An' he reared an' pitched an' caper 'd, only ez a 
 
 mule kin pitch, 
 Tel he flung Sam clean f 'om off him, landed him 
 
 squar' in a ditch. 
 
 Wen dat darky riz, well raly, I felt kinder bad 
 
 fu' him; 
 
 He had bust dem cheap sto' britches f om de 
 center to de rim. 
 
 All de plug hat dat wuz lef him wuz de brim 
 
 aroun' his neck, 
 Smear 'd wid mud f'om top to bottom, well, he 
 
 wuz a sight, I 'speck. 
 [91] 
 
JINGLES V CROONS 
 
 Wuz de folks a-laffin'? Well, su', I jes sholy 
 
 thought dey'd bus'; 
 Wuz Sam laffin'? 'Twuz de fus' time dat I 
 
 evah heah'd him cuss. 
 
 Wile Sam slink'd off thoo de backwoods I 
 walk'd slowly home wid Lize, 
 
 W'en I axed her jes one question der wuz sump'n 
 in her eyes 
 
 Made me know der wuz no need o' any answer 
 
 bein' said, 
 An' I felt jes like de whole world wuz a-spinnin' 
 
 'roun' ma head. 
 
 So I said, "Lize, w'en we marry, mus' I weah 
 
 some sto'-bought clo'es?" 
 She says, "Jeans is good enough fu' any po' 
 
 folks, heaben knows!" 
 
 [92] 
 
// homely virtues draw from me a tune 
 
 In happy jingle or a half -sad croon; 
 
 Or if the smoldering future should inspire 
 
 My hand to strike the seer's prophetic lyre; 
 
 Or if injustice, brutishness and wrong 
 
 Should make a blasting trumpet of my song; 
 
 God, give beauty and strength truth to my 
 
 words, 
 
 Oh, may they fall like sweetly cadenced chords, 
 Or burn like beacon fires from out the dark, 
 Or speed like arrows, swift and sure, to the mark. 
 
CA^II^P^^T " ^^Ft-/o 
 
 StAVER -HOW LAND PRESS 
 
 271 Franklin St. 
 VOSTOX 
 
2&2.5" 
 
U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES