Chapter 19

Darling, I hear thee and answer, Thy fountain am I, All of the love of my soul will I bring to thee, All of the pains of my being shall wring to thee, Deep and forever the song of my loving shall sing to thee, Ever and ever thro' day and thro' night shall I cling to thee. Hearest thou the answer? Darling, I come, I come.

ITCHING HEELS

Fu' de peace o' my eachin' heels, set down; Don' fiddle dat chune no mo'. Don' you see how dat melody stuhs me up An' baigs me to tek to de flo'? You knows I 's a Christian, good an' strong; I wusship f'om June to June; My pra'ahs dey ah loud an' my hymns ah long: I baig you don' fiddle dat chune.

I 's a crick in my back an' a misery hyeah Whaih de j'ints 's gittin' ol' an' stiff, But hit seems lak you brings me de bref o' my youf; W'y, I 's suttain I noticed a w'iff. Don' fiddle dat chune no mo', my chile, Don' fiddle dat chune no mo'; I 'll git up an' taih up dis groun' fu' a mile, An' den I 'll be chu'ched fu' it, sho'.

Oh, fiddle dat chune some mo', I say, An' fiddle it loud an' fas': I's a youngstah ergin in de mi'st o' my sin; De p'esent 's gone back to de pas'. I 'll dance to dat chune, so des fiddle erway; I knows how de backslidah feels; So fiddle it on 'twell de break o' de day Fu' de sake o' my eachin' heels.

TO AN INGRATE

This is to-day, a golden summer's day And yet--and yet My vengeful soul will not forget The past, forever now forgot, you say.

From that half height where I had sadly climbed, I stretched my hand, I lone in all that land, Down there, where, helpless, you were limed.

Our fingers clasped, and dragging me a pace, You struggled up. It is a bitter Cup, That now for naught, you turn away your face.

I shall remember this for aye and aye. Whate'er may come, Although my lips are dumb, My spirit holds you to that yesterday.

IN THE TENTS OF AKBAR

In the tents of Akbar Are dole and grief to-day, For the flower of all the Indies Has gone the silent way.

In the tents of Akbar Are emptiness and gloom, And where the dancers gather, The silence of the tomb.

Across the yellow desert, Across the burning sands, Old Akbar wanders madly, And wrings his fevered hands.

And ever makes his moaning To the unanswering sky, For Sutna, lovely Sutna, Who was so fair to die.

For Sutna danced at morning, And Sutna danced at eve; Her dusky eyes half hidden Behind her silken sleeve.

Her pearly teeth out-glancing Between her coral lips, The tremulous rhythm of passion Marked by her quivering hips.

As lovely as a jewel Of fire and dewdrop blent, So danced the maiden Sutna In gallant Akbar's tent.

And one who saw her dancing, Saw her bosom's fall and rise Put all his body's yearning Into his lovelit eyes.

Then Akbar came and drove him-- A jackal--from his door, And bade him wander far and look On Sutna's face no more.

Some day the sea disgorges, The wilderness gives back, Those half-dead who have wandered, Aimless, across its track.

And he returned--the lover, Haggard of brow and spent; He found fair Sutna standing Before her master's tent.

"Not mine, nor Akbar's, Sutna!" He cried and closely pressed, And drove his craven dagger Straight to the maiden's breast.

Oh, weep, oh, weep, for Sutna, So young, so dear, so fair, Her face is gray and silent Beneath her dusky hair.

And wail, oh, wail, for Akbar, Who walks the desert sands, Crying aloud for Sutna, Wringing his fevered hands.

In the tents of Akbar The tears of sorrow run, But the corpse of Sutna's slayer, Lies rotting in the sun.

THE FOUNT OF TEARS

All hot and grimy from the road, Dust gray from arduous years, I sat me down and eased my load Beside the Fount of Tears.

The waters sparkled to my eye, Calm, crystal-like, and cool, And breathing there a restful sigh, I bent me to the pool.

When, lo! a voice cried: "Pilgrim, rise, Harsh tho' the sentence be, And on to other lands and skies-- This fount is not for thee.

"Pass on, but calm thy needless fears, Some may not love or sin, An angel guards the Fount of Tears; All may not bathe therein."

Then with my burden on my back I turned to gaze awhile, First at the uninviting track, Then at the water's smile.

And so I go upon my way, Thro'out the sultry years, But pause no more, by night, by day, Beside the Fount of Tears.

LIFE'S TRAGEDY

It may be misery not to sing at all And to go silent through the brimming day. It may be sorrow never to be loved, But deeper griefs than these beset the way.

To have come near to sing the perfect song And only by a half-tone lost the key, There is the potent sorrow, there the grief, The pale, sad staring of life's tragedy.

To have just missed the perfect love, Not the hot passion of untempered youth, But that which lays aside its vanity And gives thee, for thy trusting worship, truth--

This, this it is to be accursed indeed; For if we mortals love, or if we sing, We count our joys not by the things we have, But by what kept us from the perfect thing.

DE WAY T'INGS COME

De way t'ings come, hit seems to me, Is des' one monst'ous mystery; De way hit seem to strike a man, Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan; Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down, It ain't no use to rage er frown, It ain't no use to strive er pray, Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.

Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate Des' keep on sayin' to you, "Wait," Don't mek no diffunce how you feel, 'T won't do no good to hunt a meal, Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide Ontwell de devil's satisfied, An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.

But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f, Somebody's boun' to amble in An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin; An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat, Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.

De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile, Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile; I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt, I des' won't try to reason out De reason why folks strive an' plan A dinnah fu' a full-fed man, An' shet de do' an' cross de street F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.

NOON

Shadder in de valley Sunlight on de hill, Sut'ny wish dat locus' Knowed how to be still. Don't de heat already Mek a body hum, 'Dout dat insec' sayin' Hottah days to come?

Fiel' 's a shinin' yaller Wid de bendin' grain, Guinea hen a callin', Now's de time fu' rain; Shet yo' mouf, you rascal, Wha' 's de use to cry? You do' see no rain clouds Up dah in de sky.

Dis hyeah sweat's been po'in' Down my face sence dawn; Ain't hit time we 's hyeahin' Dat ah dinnah ho'n? Go on, Ben an' Jaspah, Lif yo' feet an' fly, Hit out fu' de shadder Fo' I drap an' die.

Hongry, lawd a' mussy, Hongry as a baih, Seems lak I hyeah dinnah Callin' evahwhaih; Daih 's de ho'n a blowin'! Let dat cradle swing, One mo' sweep, den da'kies, Beat me to de spring!

AT THE TAVERN

A lilt and a swing, And a ditty to sing, Or ever the night grow old; The wine is within, And I 'm sure 't were a sin For a soldier to choose to be cold, my dear, For a soldier to choose to be cold.

We 're right for a spell, But the fever is--well, No thing to be braved, at least; So bring me the wine; No low fever in mine, For a drink is more kind than a priest, my dear, For a drink is more kind than a priest.

DEATH

Storm and strife and stress, Lost in a wilderness, Groping to find a way, Forth to the haunts of day

Sudden a vista peeps, Out of the tangled deeps, Only a point--the ray But at the end is day.

Dark is the dawn and chill, Daylight is on the hill, Night is the flitting breath, Day rides the hills of death.

NIGHT, DIM NIGHT

Night, dim night, and it rains, my love, it rains, (Art thou dreaming of me, I wonder) The trees are sad, and the wind complains, Outside the rolling of the thunder, And the beat against the panes.

Heart, my heart, thou art mournful in the rain, (Are thy redolent lips a-quiver?) My soul seeks thine, doth it seek in vain? My love goes surging like a river, Shall its tide bear naught save pain?

LYRICS OF LOVE AND SORROW

I

Love is the light of the world, my dear, Heigho, but the world is gloomy; The light has failed and the lamp down hurled, Leaves only darkness to me.

Love is the light of the world, my dear, Ah me, but the world is dreary; The night is down, and my curtain furled But I cannot sleep, though weary.

Love is the light of the world, my dear, Alas for a hopeless hoping, When the flame went out in the breeze that swirled, And a soul went blindly groping.

II

The light was on the golden sands, A glimmer on the sea; My soul spoke clearly to thy soul, Thy spirit answered me.

Since then the light that gilds the sands, And glimmers on the sea, But vainly struggles to reflect The radiant soul of thee.

III

The sea speaks to me of you All the day long; Still as I sit by its side You are its song.

The sea sings to me of you Loud on the reef; Always it moans as it sings, Voicing my grief.

IV

My dear love died last night; Shall I clothe her in white? My passionate love is dead, Shall I robe her in red? But nay, she was all untrue, She shall not go drest in blue; Still my desolate love was brave, Unrobed let her go to her grave.

V

There are brilliant heights of sorrow That only the few may know; And the lesser woes of the world, like waves, Break noiselessly, far below. I hold for my own possessing, A mount that is lone and still-- The great high place of a hopeless grief, And I call it my "Heart-break Hill." And once on a winter's midnight I found its highest crown, And there in the gloom, my soul and I, Weeping, we sat us down.

But now when I seek that summit We are two ghosts that go; Only two shades of a thing that died, Once in the long ago. So I sit me down in the silence, And say to my soul, "Be still," So the world may not know we died that night, From weeping on "Heart-break Hill."

LYRICS OF SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

A BOY'S SUMMER SONG

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

With line and hook By a babbling brook, The fisherman's sport we ply; And list the song Of the feathered throng That flit in the branches nigh. At last we strip For a quiet dip; Ah, that is the best of joy. For this I say On a summer's day, What's so fine as being a boy? Ha, Ha!

THE SAND-MAN

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

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

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

JOHNNY SPEAKS

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

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

WINTER-SONG

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

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

_Chorus:_

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

A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG

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

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

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

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

THE FOREST GREETING

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ENCOURAGED

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

TO J. Q.

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

DIPLOMACY

Tell your love where the roses blow, And the hearts of the lilies quiver, Not in the city's gleam and glow, But down by a half-sunned river. Not in the crowded ball-room's glare, That would be fatal, Marie, Marie, How can she answer you then and there? So come then and stroll with me, my dear, Down where the birds call, Marie, Marie.

SCAMP

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

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

Don' yo' eyes git awful heavy, An' yo' lip git awful slack, Ain't dey som'p'n' kin' o' weaknin' In de backbone of yo' back? Don' yo' knees feel kin' o' trimbly, An' yo' head go bobbin' roun', W'en you says yo' "Now I lay me," An' is sno'in on de "down"? She kiss yo' nose, She kiss yo' toes, An' den tu'n out de lamp, Den hit's creep into yo' trunnel baid, You sleepy little scamp.

WADIN' IN DE CRICK

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

Dah de watah's gu'glin' Ovah shiny stones, Des hit's ve'y singin' Seems to soothe yo' bones. Wat's de use o' waitin' Go on good an' quick: Dain't no fun lak dis hyeah Wadin' in de crick.

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

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

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

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

THE QUILTING

Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch, Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch, While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand, As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand. And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch; Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.

PARTED

She wrapped her soul in a lace of lies, With a prime deceit to pin it; And I thought I was gaining a fearsome prize, So I staked my soul to win it.

We wed and parted on her complaint, And both were a bit of barter, Tho' I'll confess that I'm no saint, I'll swear that she's no martyr.

FOREVER

I had not known before Forever was so long a word. The slow stroke of the clock of time I had not heard.

'Tis hard to learn so late; It seems no sad heart really learns, But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears, And bleeds and burns.

The night is not all dark, Nor is the day all it seems, But each may bring me this relief-- My dreams and dreams.

I had not known before That Never was so sad a word, So wrap me in forgetfulness-- I have not heard.

THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY

Wintah time hit comin' Stealin' thoo de night; Wake up in the mo'nin' Evah t'ing is white; Cabin lookin' lonesome Stannin' in de snow, Meks you kin' o' nervous, Wen de win' hit blow.

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

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

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

Smoke house full o' bacon, Brown an' sweet an' good; Taters in de cellah, 'Possum roam de wood; Little baby snoozin' Des ez ef he know. What's de use o' keerin' Ef de win' do blow?

TWILIGHT

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

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

CURIOSITY

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

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

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

We know she means business, an' we dassent stay, Dough it's mighty tryin' fuh to go erway; But we goes a-troopin' down de ol' wood-track 'Twell dat steamin' kitchen brings us stealin' back, Climbin' an' a-peepin' so's to see inside. Whut on earf kin mammy be so sha'p to hide? I'd des up an' tell folks w'en I knowed I could, Ef I was a-cookin' t'ings dat smelt so good.

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

OPPORTUNITY

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