Chapter 15

O burning doubt and long regret, O tears with which our eyes are wet, Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain, The somber cloud, the bitter rain, You were not of those dreams--ah! well, Your full fruition who can tell? Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams Upon our souls, all dreams--ah! dreams.

THE TRYST

De night creep down erlong de lan', De shadders rise an' shake, De frog is sta'tin' up his ban', De cricket is awake; My wo'k is mos' nigh done, Celes', To-night I won't be late, I 's hu'yin' thoo my level bes', Wait fu' me by de gate.

De mockin'-bird 'll sen' his glee A-thrillin' thoo and thoo, I know dat ol' magnolia-tree Is smellin' des' fu' you; De jessamine erside de road Is bloomin' rich an' white, My hea't 's a-th'obbin' 'cause it knowed You 'd wait fu' me to-night.

Hit 's lonesome, ain't it, stan'in' thaih Wid no one nigh to talk? But ain't dey whispahs in de aih Erlong de gyahden walk? Don't somep'n kin' o' call my name, An' say "he love you bes'"? Hit 's true, I wants to say de same, So wait fu' me, Celes'.

Sing somep'n fu' to pass de time, Outsing de mockin'-bird, You got de music an' de rhyme, You beat him wid de word. I 's comin' now, my wo'k is done, De hour has come fu' res', I wants to fly, but only run-- Wait fu' me, deah Celes'.

A PLEA

Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane, Treat me nice. Dough my love has tu'ned my brain, Treat me nice. I ain't done a t'ing to shame, Lovahs all ac's jes' de same; Don't you know we ain't to blame? Treat me nice!

Cose I know I 's talkin' wild; Treat me nice; I cain't talk no bettah, child, Treat me nice; Whut a pusson gwine to do, Wen he come a-cou'tin' you All a-trimblin' thoo and thoo? Please be nice.

Reckon I mus' go de paf Othahs do: Lovahs lingah, ladies laff; Mebbe you Do' mean all the things you say, An' pu'haps some latah day W'en I baig you ha'd, you may Treat me nice!

THE DOVE

Out of the sunshine and out of the heat, Out of the dust of the grimy street, A song fluttered down in the form of a dove, And it bore me a message, the one word--Love!

Ah, I was toiling, and oh, I was sad: I had forgotten the way to be glad. Now, smiles for my sadness and for my toil, rest Since the dove fluttered down to its home in my breast!

A WARM DAY IN WINTER

"Sunshine on de medders, Greenness on de way; Dat 's de blessed reason I sing all de day." Look hyeah! Whut you axin'? Whut meks me so merry? 'Spect to see me sighin' W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary?

'Long de stake an' rider Seen a robin set; W'y hit 'mence a-thawin', Groun' is monst'ous wet. Den you stan' dah wond'rin', Lookin' skeert an' stary; I's a right to caper W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

Missis gone a-drivin', Mastah gone to shoot; Ev'ry da'ky lazin' In de sun to boot. Qua'tah 's moughty pleasant, Hangin' 'roun' my Mary; Cou'tin' boun' to prospah W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

Cidah look so pu'ty Po'in' f'om de jug-- Don' you see it's happy? Hyeah it laffin'--glug? Now's de time fu' people Fu' to try an' bury All dey grief an' sorrer, W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

SNOWIN'

Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey is snow upon de hill, An' de little branch's watahs is all glistenin' an' still; De win' goes roun' de cabin lak a sperrit wan'erin' 'roun'. An' de chillen shakes an' shivahs as dey listen to de soun'. Dey is hick'ry in de fiahplace, whah de blaze is risin' high, But de heat it meks ain't wa'min' up de gray clouds in de sky. Now an' den I des peep outside, den I hurries to de do', Lawd a mussy on my body, how I wish it would n't snow!

I kin stan' de hottes' summah, I kin stan' de wettes' fall, I kin stan' de chilly springtime in de ploughland, but dat's all; Fu' de ve'y hottes' fiah nevah tells my skin a t'ing, W'en de snow commence a-flyin', an' de win' begin to sing. Dey is plenty wood erroun' us, an' I chop an' tote it in, But de t'oughts dat I 's a t'inkin' while I 's wo'kin' is a sin. I kin keep f'om downright swahin' all de time I 's on de go, But my hea't is full o' cuss-wo'ds w'en I's trampin' thoo de snow.

What you say, you Lishy Davis, dat you see a possum's tracks? Look hyeah, boy, you stop yo' foolin', bring ol' Spot, an' bring de ax. Is I col'? Go way, now, Mandy, what you t'ink I's made of?--sho, W'y dis win' is des ez gentle, an' dis ain't no kin' o' snow. Dis hyeah weathah 's des ez healthy ez de wa'mest summah days. All you chillen step up lively, pile on wood an' keep a blaze. What's de use o' gittin' skeery case dey 's snow upon de groun'? Huh-uh, I 's a reg'lar snowbird ef dey 's any possum 'roun'.

Go on, Spot, don' be so foolish; don' you see de signs o' feet. What you howlin' fu? Keep still, suh, cose de col' is putty sweet; But we goin' out on bus'ness, an' hit 's bus'ness o' de kin' Dat mus' put a dog an' dahky in a happy frame o' min'. Yes, you 's col'; I know it, Spotty, but you des stay close to me, An' I 'll mek you hot ez cotton w'en we strikes de happy tree. No, I don' lak wintah weathah, an' I 'd wush 't uz allus June, Ef it was n't fu' de trackin' o' de possum an' de coon.

KEEP A SONG UP ON DE WAY

Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy An' de rain is mighty thick; Keep a song up on de way. An' de waters is a rumblin' On de boulders in de crick, Keep a song up on de way. Fu' a bird ercross de road Is a-singin' lak he knowed Dat we people did n't daih Fu' to try de rainy aih Wid a song up on de way.

What's de use o' gittin' mopy, Case de weather ain' de bes'! Keep a song up on de way. W'en de rain is fallin' ha'des', Dey 's de longes' times to res' Keep a song up on de way. Dough de plough 's a-stan'in' still Dey 'll be watah fu' de mill, Rain mus' come ez well ez sun 'Fo' de weathah's wo'k is done, Keep a song up on de way.

W'y hit's nice to hyeah de showahs Fallin' down ermong de trees: Keep a song up on de way. Ef de birds don' bothah 'bout it, But go singin' lak dey please, Keep a song up on de way. You don' s'pose I's gwine to see Dem ah fowls do mo' dan me? No, suh, I 'll des chase dis frown, An' aldough de rain fall down, Keep a song up on de way.

THE TURNING OF THE BABIES IN THE BED

Woman's sho' a cur'ous critter, an' dey ain't no doubtin' dat. She's a mess o' funny capahs f'om huh slippahs to huh hat. Ef you tries to un'erstan' huh, an' you fails, des' up an' say: "D' ain't a bit o' use to try to un'erstan' a woman's way."

I don' mean to be complainin', but I 's jes' a-settin' down Some o' my own obserwations, w'en I cas' my eye eroun'. Ef you ax me fu' to prove it, I ken do it mighty fine, Fu' dey ain't no bettah 'zample den dis ve'y wife o' mine.

In de ve'y hea't o' midnight, w'en I 's sleepin' good an' soun', I kin hyeah a so't o' rustlin' an' somebody movin' 'roun'. An' I say, "Lize, whut you doin'?" But she frown an' shek huh haid, "Heish yo' mouf, I's only tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

"Don' you know a chile gits restless, layin' all de night one way? An' you' got to kind o' 'range him sev'al times befo' de day? So de little necks won't worry, an' de little backs won't break; Don' you t'ink case chillun 's chillun dey hain't got no pain an' ache."

So she shakes 'em, an' she twists 'em, an' she tu'ns 'em 'roun' erbout, 'Twell I don' see how de chillun evah keeps f'om hollahin' out. Den she lif's 'em up head down'ards, so's dey won't git livahgrown, But dey snoozes des' ez peaceful ez a liza'd on a stone.

W'en hit's mos' nigh time fu' wakin' on de dawn o' jedgment day, Seems lak I kin hyeah ol' Gab'iel lay his trumpet down an' say, "Who dat walkin' 'roun' so easy, down on earf ermong de dead?"-- 'T will be Lizy up a-tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

THE DANCE

Heel and toe, heel and toe, That is the song we sing; Turn to your partner and curtsey low, Balance and forward and swing. Corners are draughty and meadows are white, This is the game for a winter's night.

Hands around, hands around, Trip it, and not too slow; Clear is the fiddle and sweet its sound, Keep the girls' cheeks aglow. Still let your movements be dainty and light, This is the game for a winter's night.

Back to back, back to back, Turn to your place again; Never let lightness nor nimbleness lack, Either in maidens or men. Time hasteth ever, beware of its flight, Oh, what a game for a winter's night!

Slower now, slower now, Softer the music sighs; Look, there are beads on your partner's brow Though there be light in her eyes. Lead her away and her grace requite, So goes the game on a winter's night.

SOLILOQUY OF A TURKEY

Dey 's a so't o' threatenin' feelin' in de blowin' of de breeze, An' I 's feelin' kin' o' squeamish in de night; I 's a-walkin' 'roun' a-lookin' at de diffunt style o' trees, An' a-measurin' dey thickness an' dey height. Fu' dey 's somep'n mighty 'spicious in de looks de da'kies give, Ez dey pass me an' my fambly on de groun,' So it 'curs to me dat lakly, ef I caihs to try an' live, It concehns me fu' to 'mence to look erroun'.

Dey's a cu'ious kin' o' shivah runnin' up an' down my back, An' I feel my feddahs rufflin' all de day, An' my laigs commence to trimble evah blessid step I mek; W'en I sees a ax, I tu'ns my head away. Folks is go'gin' me wid goodies, an' dey 's treatin' me wid caih, An' I 's fat in spite of all dat I kin do. I 's mistrus'ful of de kin'ness dat's erroun' me evahwhaih, Fu' it 's jes' too good, an' frequent, to be true.

Snow 's a-fallin' on de medders, all erroun' me now is white, But I 's still kep' on a-roostin' on de fence; Isham comes an' feels my breas'bone, an' he hefted me las' night, An' he 's gone erroun' a-grinnin' evah sence. 'T ain't de snow dat meks me shivah; 't ain't de col' dat meks me shake; 'T ain't de wintah-time itse'f dat's 'fectin' me; But I t'ink de time is comin', an' I 'd bettah mek a break, Fu' to set wid Mistah Possum in his tree.

Wen you hyeah de da'kies singin', an' de quahtahs all is gay, 'T ain't de time fu' birds lak me to be 'erroun'; Wen de hick'ry chip is flyin', an' de log 's been ca'ied erway, Den hit's dang'ous to be roostin' nigh he groun'.

Grin on, Isham! Sing on, da'kies! But I flop my wings an' go Fu' de sheltah of de ve'y highest tree, Fu' dey 's too much close ertention--an' dey's too much fallin' snow-- An' it's too nigh Chris'mus mo'nin' now fu' me.

FISHING

Wen I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black, Dey's a kin' o' wa'nin' shivah goes a-scootin' down my back; Den I says to my ol' ooman ez I watches down de lane, "Don't you so't o' reckon, Lizy, dat we gwine to have some rain?"

"Go on, man," my Lizy answah, "you cain't fool me, not a bit, I don't see no rain a-comin', ef you's wishin' fu' it, quit; Case de mo' you t'ink erbout it, an de mo' you pray an' wish, W'y de rain stay 'way de longah, spechul ef you wants to fish."

But I see huh pat de skillet, an' I see huh cas' huh eye Wid a kin' o' anxious motion to'ds de da'kness in de sky; An' I knows whut she 's a-t'inkin', dough she tries so ha'd to hide. She 's a-sayin', "Would n't catfish now tas'e monst'ous bully, fried?"

Den de clouds git black an' blackah, an' de thundah 'mence to roll, An' de rain, it 'mence a-fallin'. Oh, I's happy, bless my soul! Ez I look at dat ol' skillet, an' I 'magine I kin see Jes' a slew o' new-ketched catfish sizzlin' daih fu' huh an' me.

'T ain't no use to go a-ploughin', fu' de groun' 'll be too wet, So I puts out fu' de big house at a moughty pace, you bet, An' ol' mastah say, "Well, Lishy, ef you t'ink hit 's gwine to rain, Go on fishin', hit 's de weathah, an' I 'low we cain't complain."

Talk erbout a dahky walkin' wid his haid up in de aih! Have to feel mine evah minute to be sho' I got it daih; En' de win' is cuttin' capahs an' a-lashin' thoo de trees, But de rain keeps on a-singin' blessed songs, lak "Tek yo' ease."

Wid my pole erpon my shouldah an' my wo'm can in my han', I kin feel de fish a-waitin' w'en I strikes de rivah's san'; Nevah min', you ho'ny scoun'els, need n' swim erroun' an' grin, I 'll be grinnin' in a minute w'en I 'mence to haul you in.

W'en de fish begin to nibble, an' de co'k begin to jump, I 's erfeahed dat dey 'll quit bitin', case dey hyeah my hea't go "thump," 'Twell de co'k go way down undah, an' I raise a awful shout, Ez a big ol' yallah belly comes a gallivantin' out.

Need n't wriggle, Mistah Catfish, case I got you jes' de same, You been eatin', I 'll be eatin', an' we needah ain't to blame. But you need n't feel so lonesome fu' I 's th'owin' out to see Ef dey ain't some of yo' comrades fu' to keep you company.

Spo't, dis fishin'! now you talkin', w'y dey ain't no kin' to beat; I don' keer ef I is soakin', laigs, an' back, an' naik, an' feet, It 's de spo't I 's lookin' aftah. Hit 's de pleasure an' de fun, Dough I knows dat Lizy 's waitin' wid de skillet w'en I's done.

A PLANTATION PORTRAIT

Hain't you see my Mandy Lou, Is it true? Whaih you been f'om day to day, Whaih, I say? Dat you say you nevah seen Dis hyeah queen Walkin' roun' f'om fiel' to street Smilin' sweet?

Slendah ez a saplin' tree; Seems to me Wen de win' blow f'om de bay She jes' sway Lak de reg'lar saplin' do Ef hit's grew Straight an' graceful, 'dout a limb, Sweet an' slim.

Browner den de frush's wing, An' she sing Lak he mek his wa'ble ring In de spring; But she sholy beat de frush, Hyeah me, hush: Wen she sing, huh teef kin show White ez snow.

Eyes ez big an' roun' an' bright Ez de light Whut de moon gives in de prime Harvest time. An' huh haih a woolly skein, Black an' plain. Hol's you wid a natchul twis' Close to bliss.

Tendah han's dat mek yo' own Feel lak stone; Easy steppin', blessid feet, Small an' sweet. Hain't you seen my Mandy Lou, Is it true? Look at huh befo' she's gone, Den pass on!

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET

De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah, De snow's a-sayin' "Got you" to de groun', Fu' de wintah weathah 's come widout a-askin' ouah desiah, An' he 's laughin' in his sleeve at whut he foun'; Fu' dey ain't nobody ready wid dey fuel er dey food, An' de money bag look timid lak, fu' sho', So we want ouah Chrismus sermon, but we 'd lak it ef you could Leave a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

Wha 's de use o' tellin' chillen 'bout a Santy er a Nick, An' de sto'ies dat a body allus tol'? When de harf is gray wid ashes an' you has n't got a stick Fu' to warm dem when dey little toes is col'? Wha 's de use o' preachin' 'ligion to a man dat's sta'ved to def, An' a-tellin' him de Mastah will pu'vide? Ef you want to tech his feelin's, save yo' sermons an' yo' bref, Tek a little Chrismus basket by yo' side.

'T ain't de time to open Bibles an' to lock yo' cellah do', 'T ain't de time to talk o' bein' good to men; Ef you want to preach a sermon ez you nevah preached befo', Preach dat sermon wid a shoat er wid er hen; Bein' good is heap sight bettah den a-dallyin' wid sin, An' dey ain't nobody roun' dat knows it mo', But I t'ink dat 'ligion 's sweeter w'en it kind o' mixes in Wid a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

THE VALSE

When to sweet music my lady is dancing My heart to mild frenzy her beauty inspires. Into my face are her brown eyes a-glancing, And swift my whole frame thrills with tremulous fires. Dance, lady, dance, for the moments are fleeting, Pause not to place yon refractory curl; Life is for love and the night is for sweeting; Dreamily, joyously, circle and whirl.

Oh, how those viols are throbbing and pleading; A prayer is scarce needed in sound of their strain. Surely and lightly as round you are speeding, You turn to confusion my heart and my brain. Dance, lady, dance to the viol's soft calling, Skip it and trip it as light as the air; Dance, for the moments like rose leaves are falling, Strikes, now, the clock from its place on the stair.

Now sinks the melody lower and lower, The weary musicians scarce seeming to play. Ah, love, your steps now are slower and slower, The smile on your face is more sad and less gay. Dance, lady, dance to the brink of our parting, My heart and your step must not fail to be light. Dance! Just a turn--tho' the tear-drop be starting. Ah--now it is done--so--my lady, good-night!

REPONSE

When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes The light dies out; my soul replies With misery of deep-drawn breath, E'en as it were at war with death.

When Phyllis smiles, her glance beguiles My heart through love-lit woodland aisles, And through the silence high and clear, A wooing warbler's song I hear.

But if she frown, despair comes down, I put me on my sack-cloth gown; So frown not, Phyllis, lest I die, But look on me with smile or sigh.

MY SWEET BROWN GAL

W'en de clouds is hangin' heavy in de sky, An' de win's 's a-taihin' moughty vig'rous by, I don' go a-sighin' all erlong de way; I des' wo'k a-waitin' fu' de close o' day.

Case I knows w'en evenin' draps huh shadders down, I won' care a smidgeon fu' de weathah's frown; Let de rain go splashin', let de thundah raih, Dey 's a happy sheltah, an' I 's goin' daih.

Down in my ol' cabin wa'm ez mammy's toas', 'Taters in de fiah layin' daih to roas'; No one daih to cross me, got no talkin' pal, But I 's got de comp'ny o' my sweet brown gal.

So I spen's my evenin' listenin' to huh sing, Lak a blessid angel; how huh voice do ring! Sweetah den a bluebird flutterin' erroun', W'en he sees de steamin' o' de new ploughed groun'.

Den I hugs huh closah, closah to my breas'. Need n't sing, my da'lin', tek you' hones' res'. Does I mean Malindy, Mandy, Lize er Sal? No, I means my fiddle-dat's my sweet brown gal!

SPRING FEVER

Grass commence a-comin' Thoo de thawin' groun', Evah bird dat whistles Keepin' noise erroun'; Cain't sleep in de mo'nin', Case befo' it 's light Bluebird an' de robin, Done begun to fight.

Bluebird sass de robin, Robin sass him back, Den de bluebird scol' him 'Twell his face is black. Would n' min' de quoilin' All de mo'nin' long, 'Cept it wakes me early, Case hit 's done in song.

Anybody wo'kin' Wants to sleep ez late Ez de folks 'll 'low him, An' I wish to state (Co'se dis ain't to scattah, But 'twix' me an' you), I could stan' de bedclothes, Kin' o' latah, too.

'T ain't my natchul feelin', Dis hyeah mopin' spell. I stan's early risin' Mos'ly moughty well; But de ve'y minute, I feel Ap'il's heat, Bless yo' soul, de bedclothes Nevah seemed so sweet.

Mastah, he's a-scol'in', Case de han's is slow, All de hosses balkin', Jes' cain't mek 'em go. Don' know whut's de mattah, Hit's a funny t'ing, Less'n hit 's de fevah Dat you gits in spring.

THE VISITOR

Little lady at de do', W'y you stan' dey knockin'? Nevah seen you ac' befo' In er way so shockin'. Don' you know de sin it is Fu' to git my temper riz Wen I 's got de rheumatiz An' my jints is lockin'?

No, ol' Miss ain't sont you down, Don' you tell no story; I been seed you hangin' 'roun' Dis hyeah te'itory. You des come fu' me to tell You a tale, an' I ain'--well-- Look hyeah, what is dat I smell? Steamin' victuals? Glory!

Come in, Missy, how you do? Come up by de fiah, I was jokin', chile, wid you; Bring dat basket nighah. Huh uh, ain't dat lak ol' Miss, Sen'in' me a feas' lak dis? Rheumatiz cain't stop my bliss, Case I's feelin' spryah.

Chicken meat an' gravy, too, Hot an' still a-heatin'; Good ol' sweet pertater stew; Missy b'lieves in treatin'. Des set down, you blessed chile, Daddy got to t'ink a while, Den a story mek you smile Wen he git thoo eatin'.

SONG

Wintah, summah, snow er shine, Hit's all de same to me, Ef only I kin call you mine, An' keep you by my knee.

Ha'dship, frolic, grief er caih, Content by night an' day, Ef only I kin see you whaih You wait beside de way.

Livin', dyin', smiles er teahs, My soul will still be free, Ef only thoo de comin' yeahs You walk de worl' wid me.

Bird-song, breeze-wail, chune er moan, What puny t'ings dey 'll be, Ef w'en I 's seemin' all erlone, I knows yo' hea't 's wid me.

THE COLORED BAND

Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street, Don't you people stan' daih starin'; lif yo' feet! Ain't dey playin'? Hip, hooray! Stir yo' stumps an' cleah de way, Fu' de music dat dey mekin' can't be beat.

Oh, de major man's a-swingin' of his stick, An' de pickaninnies crowdin' roun' him thick; In his go'geous uniform, He 's de lightnin' of de sto'm, An' de little clouds erroun' look mighty slick.

You kin hyeah a fine perfo'mance w'en de white ban's serenade, An' dey play dey high-toned music mighty sweet, But hit 's Sousa played in ragtime, an' hit 's Rastus on Parade, Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street.

Wen de colo'ed ban' comes ma'chin' down de street You kin hyeah de ladies all erroun' repeat: "Ain't dey handsome? Ain't dey gran'? Ain't dey splendid? Goodness, lan'! Wy dey's pu'fect f'om dey fo'heads to dey feet!" An' sich steppin' to de music down de line, 'T ain't de music by itself dat meks it fine, Hit's de walkin', step by step, An' de keepin' time wid "Hep," Dat it mek a common ditty soun' divine.

Oh, de white ban' play hits music, an' hit 's mighty good to hyeah, An' it sometimes leaves a ticklin' in yo' feet; But de hea't goes into bus'ness fu' to he'p erlong de eah, Wen de colo'ed ban' goes ma'chin' down de street.

TO A VIOLET FOUND ON ALL SAINTS' DAY

Belated wanderer of the ways of spring, Lost in the chill of grim November rain, Would I could read the message that you bring And find in it the antidote for pain.

Does some sad spirit out beyond the day, Far looking to the hours forever dead, Send you a tender offering to lay Upon the grave of us, the living dead?

Or does some brighter spirit, unforlorn, Send you, my little sister of the wood, To say to some one on a cloudful morn, "Life lives through death, my brother, all is good?"

With meditative hearts the others go The memory of their dead to dress anew. But, sister mine, bide here that I may know, Life grows, through death, as beautiful as you.

INSPIRATION

At the golden gate of song Stood I, knocking all day long, But the Angel, calm and cold, Still refused and bade me, "Hold."

Then a breath of soft perfume, Then a light within the gloom; Thou, Love, camest to my side, And the gates flew open wide.

Long I dwelt in this domain, Knew no sorrow, grief, or pain; Now you bid me forth and free, Will you shut these gates on me?

MY LADY OF CASTLE GRAND

Gray is the palace where she dwells, Grimly the poplars stand There by the window where she sits, My Lady of Castle Grand.

There does she bide the livelong day, Grim as the poplars are, Ever her gaze goes reaching out, Steady, but vague and far.

Bright burn the fires in the castle hall, Brightly the fire-dogs stand; But cold is the body and cold the heart Of my Lady of Castle Grand.