{"id":925,"date":"2020-12-06T21:49:52","date_gmt":"2020-12-06T21:49:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-jefferson-africanamericanlit\/?post_type=chapter&p=925"},"modified":"2021-04-13T23:27:34","modified_gmt":"2021-04-13T23:27:34","slug":"paul-laurence-dunbar-poems","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-jefferson-africanamericanlit\/chapter\/paul-laurence-dunbar-poems\/","title":{"raw":"Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems","rendered":"Paul Laurence Dunbar Poems"},"content":{"raw":"https:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poets\/paul-laurence-dunbar<\/a>\r\n\r\nWhat other poets in this collection connect with the Paul Laurence Dunbar poems?\u00a0 Stylistically or thematically, what are the connections you see?\r\n
\r\n

The Corn-Stalk Fiddle<\/h1>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
When the corn\u2019s all cut and the bright stalks shine<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;<\/div>\r\n
When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;<\/div>\r\n
Then its heigho fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,<\/div>\r\n
For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
And you take a stalk that is straight and long,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With an expert eye to its worthy points,<\/div>\r\n
And you think of the bubbling strains of song<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That are bound between its pithy joints\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Then you cut out strings, with a bridge in the middle,<\/div>\r\n
With a corn-stalk bow for a corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Then the strains that grow as you draw the bow<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0O\u2019er the yielding strings with a practiced hand!<\/div>\r\n
And the music\u2019s flow never loud but low<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Is the concert note of a fairy band.<\/div>\r\n
Oh, your dainty songs are a misty riddle<\/div>\r\n
To the simple sweets of the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
When the eve comes on and our work is done<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the sun drops down with a tender glance,<\/div>\r\n
With their hearts all prime for the harmless fun,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Come the neighbor girls for the evening\u2019s dance,<\/div>\r\n
And they wait for the well-known twist and twiddle,<\/div>\r\n
More time than tune\u2014from the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Then brother Jabez takes the bow,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0While Ned stands off with Susan Bland,<\/div>\r\n
Then Henry stops by Milly Snow<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And John takes Nellie Jones\u2019s hand,<\/div>\r\n
While I pair off with Mandy Biddle,<\/div>\r\n
And scrape, scrape, scrape goes the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
\u201cSalute your partners,\u201d comes the call,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cAll join hands and circle round,\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u201cGrand train back,\u201d and \u201cBalance all,\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Footsteps lightly spurn the ground,<\/div>\r\n
\u201cTake your lady and balance down the middle\u201d<\/div>\r\n
To the merry strains of the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
So the night goes on and the dance is o\u2019er,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the merry girls are homeward gone,<\/div>\r\n
But I see it all in my sleep once more,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And I dream till the very break of dawn<\/div>\r\n
Of an impish dance on a red-hot griddle<\/div>\r\n
To the screech and scrape of a corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n

The Haunted Oak<\/h1>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
Pray why are you so bare, so bare,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;<\/div>\r\n
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Runs a shudder over me?<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sap ran free in my veins,<\/div>\r\n
But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A guiltless victim's pains.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
I bent me down to hear his sigh;<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0 \u00a0I shook with his gurgling moan,<\/div>\r\n
And I trembled sore when they rode away,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0 \u00a0And left him here alone.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
They'd charged him with the old, old crime,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And set him fast in jail:<\/div>\r\n
Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And why does the night wind wail?<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And he raised his hand to the sky;<\/div>\r\n
But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the steady tread drew nigh.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Who is it rides by night, by night,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Over the moonlit road?<\/div>\r\n
And what is the spur that keeps the pace,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0What is the galling goad?<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
And now they beat at the prison door,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Ho, keeper, do not stay!<\/div>\r\n
We are friends of him whom you hold within,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And we fain would take him away<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
\"From those who ride fast on our heels<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With mind to do him wrong;<\/div>\r\n
They have no care for his innocence,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the rope they bear is long.\"<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
They have fooled the jailer with lying words,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They have fooled the man with lies;<\/div>\r\n
The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the great door open flies.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Now they have taken him from the jail,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And hard and fast they ride,<\/div>\r\n
And the leader laughs low down in his throat,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As they halt my trunk beside.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the doctor one of white,<\/div>\r\n
And the minister, with his oldest son,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Was curiously bedight.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0'Tis but a little space,<\/div>\r\n
And the time will come when these shall dread<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The mem'ry of your face.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
I feel the rope against my bark,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the weight of him in my grain,<\/div>\r\n
I feel in the throe of his final woe<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The touch of my own last pain.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
And never more shall leaves come forth<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0On the bough that bears the ban;<\/div>\r\n
I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0From the curse of a guiltless man.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And goes to hunt the deer,<\/div>\r\n
And ever another rides his soul<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In the guise of a mortal fear.<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
And ever the man he rides me hard,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And never a night stays he;<\/div>\r\n
For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,<\/div>\r\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0On the trunk of a haunted tree.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
<\/div>\r\n
The remaining poems derive from an OER resource, African-American Literature 1619-1926<\/em>, from M.O.S.T. Commons.\u00a0 The entire book is available there and could be a useful resource as we look at historical lecture material, context, and early<\/div>\r\n
influences upon African-American art.\u00a0 See more at: https:\/\/most.oercommons.org\/courseware\/lesson\/227\/overview<\/div>\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n\r\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0We Wear the Mask\r\n\r\nWe wear the mask that grins and lies,\r\n\r\nIt hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,-\r\n\r\nThis debt we pay to human guile;\r\n\r\nWith torn and bleeding hearts we smile,\r\n\r\nAnd mouth with myriad subtleties.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nWhy should the world be overwise,\r\n\r\nIn counting all our tears and sighs?\r\n\r\nNay, let them only see us, while\r\n\r\nWe wear the mask!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nWe smile, but, O great Christ, our cries\r\n\r\nTo thee from tortured sould arise.\r\n\r\nWe sing, but oh, the clay is vile\r\n\r\nBeneath our feet, and long the mile;\r\n\r\nBut let the world dream otherwise,\r\n\r\nWe wear the mask!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nSympathy\r\n\r\nI know what the caged bird feels, alas!\r\n\r\nWhen the sun is bright on the upland slopes;\r\n\r\nWhen the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,\r\n\r\nAnd the river flows like a stream of glass;\r\n\r\nI know what the caged bird feels!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nI know why the caged bird beats his wing\r\n\r\nTill its blood is red on the cruel bars;\r\n\r\nFor he must fly back to his perch and cling\r\n\r\nWhen he fain would be on the bough a-swing;\r\n\r\nAnd a pain still throbs in the old, old scars\r\n\r\nAnd they pulse again with a keener sting-\r\n\r\nI know why he beats his wing!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nI know why the caged bird sings, ah me,\r\n\r\nWhen his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,-\r\n\r\nWhen he beats his bars, and he would be free;\r\n\r\nIt is not a carol of joy or glee,\r\n\r\nBut a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,\r\n\r\nBut a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-\r\n\r\nI know why the caged bird sings!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>","rendered":"

https:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poets\/paul-laurence-dunbar<\/a><\/p>\n

What other poets in this collection connect with the Paul Laurence Dunbar poems?\u00a0 Stylistically or thematically, what are the connections you see?<\/p>\n

\n

The Corn-Stalk Fiddle<\/h1>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
When the corn\u2019s all cut and the bright stalks shine<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;<\/div>\n
When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;<\/div>\n
Then its heigho fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,<\/div>\n
For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And you take a stalk that is straight and long,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With an expert eye to its worthy points,<\/div>\n
And you think of the bubbling strains of song<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That are bound between its pithy joints\u2014<\/div>\n
Then you cut out strings, with a bridge in the middle,<\/div>\n
With a corn-stalk bow for a corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Then the strains that grow as you draw the bow<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0O\u2019er the yielding strings with a practiced hand!<\/div>\n
And the music\u2019s flow never loud but low<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Is the concert note of a fairy band.<\/div>\n
Oh, your dainty songs are a misty riddle<\/div>\n
To the simple sweets of the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
When the eve comes on and our work is done<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the sun drops down with a tender glance,<\/div>\n
With their hearts all prime for the harmless fun,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Come the neighbor girls for the evening\u2019s dance,<\/div>\n
And they wait for the well-known twist and twiddle,<\/div>\n
More time than tune\u2014from the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Then brother Jabez takes the bow,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0While Ned stands off with Susan Bland,<\/div>\n
Then Henry stops by Milly Snow<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And John takes Nellie Jones\u2019s hand,<\/div>\n
While I pair off with Mandy Biddle,<\/div>\n
And scrape, scrape, scrape goes the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cSalute your partners,\u201d comes the call,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cAll join hands and circle round,\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cGrand train back,\u201d and \u201cBalance all,\u201d<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Footsteps lightly spurn the ground,<\/div>\n
\u201cTake your lady and balance down the middle\u201d<\/div>\n
To the merry strains of the corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
So the night goes on and the dance is o\u2019er,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the merry girls are homeward gone,<\/div>\n
But I see it all in my sleep once more,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And I dream till the very break of dawn<\/div>\n
Of an impish dance on a red-hot griddle<\/div>\n
To the screech and scrape of a corn-stalk fiddle.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

The Haunted Oak<\/h1>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
Pray why are you so bare, so bare,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;<\/div>\n
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Runs a shudder over me?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sap ran free in my veins,<\/div>\n
But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A guiltless victim’s pains.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I bent me down to hear his sigh;<\/div>\n
\u00a0 \u00a0I shook with his gurgling moan,<\/div>\n
And I trembled sore when they rode away,<\/div>\n
\u00a0 \u00a0And left him here alone.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
They’d charged him with the old, old crime,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And set him fast in jail:<\/div>\n
Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And why does the night wind wail?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And he raised his hand to the sky;<\/div>\n
But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the steady tread drew nigh.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Who is it rides by night, by night,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Over the moonlit road?<\/div>\n
And what is the spur that keeps the pace,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0What is the galling goad?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And now they beat at the prison door,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0“Ho, keeper, do not stay!<\/div>\n
We are friends of him whom you hold within,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And we fain would take him away<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
“From those who ride fast on our heels<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With mind to do him wrong;<\/div>\n
They have no care for his innocence,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the rope they bear is long.”<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
They have fooled the jailer with lying words,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They have fooled the man with lies;<\/div>\n
The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the great door open flies.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Now they have taken him from the jail,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And hard and fast they ride,<\/div>\n
And the leader laughs low down in his throat,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As they halt my trunk beside.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the doctor one of white,<\/div>\n
And the minister, with his oldest son,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Was curiously bedight.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0‘Tis but a little space,<\/div>\n
And the time will come when these shall dread<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The mem’ry of your face.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I feel the rope against my bark,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the weight of him in my grain,<\/div>\n
I feel in the throe of his final woe<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The touch of my own last pain.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And never more shall leaves come forth<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0On the bough that bears the ban;<\/div>\n
I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0From the curse of a guiltless man.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And goes to hunt the deer,<\/div>\n
And ever another rides his soul<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In the guise of a mortal fear.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And ever the man he rides me hard,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And never a night stays he;<\/div>\n
For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0On the trunk of a haunted tree.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The remaining poems derive from an OER resource, African-American Literature 1619-1926<\/em>, from M.O.S.T. Commons.\u00a0 The entire book is available there and could be a useful resource as we look at historical lecture material, context, and early<\/div>\n
influences upon African-American art.\u00a0 See more at: https:\/\/most.oercommons.org\/courseware\/lesson\/227\/overview<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0We Wear the Mask<\/p>\n

We wear the mask that grins and lies,<\/p>\n

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,-<\/p>\n

This debt we pay to human guile;<\/p>\n

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,<\/p>\n

And mouth with myriad subtleties.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Why should the world be overwise,<\/p>\n

In counting all our tears and sighs?<\/p>\n

Nay, let them only see us, while<\/p>\n

We wear the mask!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries<\/p>\n

To thee from tortured sould arise.<\/p>\n

We sing, but oh, the clay is vile<\/p>\n

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;<\/p>\n

But let the world dream otherwise,<\/p>\n

We wear the mask!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sympathy<\/p>\n

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!<\/p>\n

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;<\/p>\n

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,<\/p>\n

And the river flows like a stream of glass;<\/p>\n

I know what the caged bird feels!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I know why the caged bird beats his wing<\/p>\n

Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;<\/p>\n

For he must fly back to his perch and cling<\/p>\n

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;<\/p>\n

And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars<\/p>\n

And they pulse again with a keener sting-<\/p>\n

I know why he beats his wing!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,<\/p>\n

When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,-<\/p>\n

When he beats his bars, and he would be free;<\/p>\n

It is not a carol of joy or glee,<\/p>\n

But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,<\/p>\n

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-<\/p>\n

I know why the caged bird sings!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t

Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
Public domain content<\/div>