The Mississippi Poets

E. H. Clarke & brothers, 1922 - 194 ˹
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˹ 128 - THEY do me wrong who say I come no more When once I knock and fail to find you in ; For every day I stand outside your door, And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win.
˹ 128 - ... you in; For every day I stand outside your door, And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. Wail not for precious chances passed away, Weep not for golden ages on the wane ! Each night I burn the records of the day, At sunrise every soul is born again...
˹ 176 - Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces ! He had a Morgan colt an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle An' druv 'em 'board de Ark as soon's he heered de thunder rattle.
˹ 129 - Dost Thou behold Thy lost youth all aghast? Dost reel from righteous retribution's blow? Then turn from blotted archives of the past And find the future's pages white as snow. Art Thou a mourner? rouse Thee from Thy spell; Art Thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven; Each morning gives Thee wings to flee from Hell, Each night a star to guide Thy feet to Heaven.
˹ 175 - way, fiddle! folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squawkin'. Keep silence fur yo' betters! don't you heah de banjo talkin'? About de 'possum's tail she's gwine to lecter ladies, listen! About de ha'r whut isn't dar, an' why de ha'r is missin': "Dar's gwine to be a
˹ 173 - Is dis heah me, or not me ? Or is de debbil got me ? Wuz dat a cannon shot me ? Hab I laid heah more'na week ? Dat mule do kick amazin' ! De beast wuz sp'iled in raisin' But now I 'spect he's grazin
˹ 178 - She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all togedder; Some went to pattin'; some to dancin': Noah called de riggers; An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers! Now, sence dat time it's mighty strange dere's not de slightes
˹ 99 - We knew it had hardly a value in gold Yet as gold our soldiers received it; It gazed in our eyes with a promise to pay, And each patriot soldier believed it.
˹ 176 - Noah kep' a-nailin' an' a-chippin' an' a-sawin'; An' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an' a-pshawin' ; But Noah didn't min' 'em, knowin' whut was gwine to happen : An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-drappin'. Now, Noah had done cotched a lot ob ebry sort o' beas'es Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces!
˹ 99 - Of liberty born of the patriot's dream, Of a storm-cradled nation that fell. Too poor to possess the precious ores And too much of a stranger to borrow, We issued to-day our promise to pay And hoped to redeem on the morrow.