 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : |  |
Comrade
Oh, comrade, comrade, I have missed you so!
The long, drear months still lagging come and go,
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
The long, drear months still lagging come and go,
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
To-night, I sat and pored o'er pages sere,
All filled with what we did and said last year;
And all the soul within me rose and cried,
And all the woman in me sobbed and sighed.
All filled with what we did and said last year;
And all the soul within me rose and cried,
And all the woman in me sobbed and sighed.
This day we sat beside a dimpling stream,
And hours flew by like moments in a dream;
And you and I, true comrades, laughed and played,
Nor deemed it long the while we fondly stayed.
And hours flew by like moments in a dream;
And you and I, true comrades, laughed and played,
Nor deemed it long the while we fondly stayed.
These days we stood 'neath turquoise Western sky,
And breathed new life, sipped ozone from on high;
Did mem'ry ever smile and call to thee
Those long, sweet tramps of ours, of me and thee?
And breathed new life, sipped ozone from on high;
Did mem'ry ever smile and call to thee
Those long, sweet tramps of ours, of me and thee?
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Then those long dreary hours you fought with death,
And I hung near and watched your feeble breath;
And those long evening hours you clasped my hand,
And watched the twilight creeping o'er the land.
And I hung near and watched your feeble breath;
And those long evening hours you clasped my hand,
And watched the twilight creeping o'er the land.
We sat upon the shore and watched the sea,
Creep higher to the rocks e'er we did flee.
And erst we angled in the dimpling bay,
And proudly counted trophies, mind'st the day?
Creep higher to the rocks e'er we did flee.
And erst we angled in the dimpling bay,
And proudly counted trophies, mind'st the day?
Oh, comrade, comrade, I have missed you so!
The long drear months still lagging come and go,
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
The long drear months still lagging come and go,
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
We've lived through sorrow and we've lived through joy,
Sweets, sweets we've tasted to our senses' cloy;
And yet we've suffered sorrow to the deep,
Full bitterness of sorrow's deadly heap.
Sweets, sweets we've tasted to our senses' cloy;
And yet we've suffered sorrow to the deep,
Full bitterness of sorrow's deadly heap.
Dost mind the books we read in other days?
Dost mind the foolish cards and little plays?
Dost mind the lilting music of our song?
Dost mind the winter eves, so sweet and long?
Dost mind the foolish cards and little plays?
Dost mind the lilting music of our song?
Dost mind the winter eves, so sweet and long?
There is no other heart to beat with mine,
There is no other soul attuned like thine;
I miss the quick return of kindred fire,
These duller minds, oh comrade, quickly tire.
There is no other soul attuned like thine;
I miss the quick return of kindred fire,
These duller minds, oh comrade, quickly tire.
The dreary days pass on, I smile and smile,
My heart a-heavy, and soul tired the while;
The dreary nights in sleepless mis'ry creep
My soul a-cry to thine in anguish deep.
My heart a-heavy, and soul tired the while;
The dreary nights in sleepless mis'ry creep
My soul a-cry to thine in anguish deep.
Our paths have parted, ne'er perhaps, to meet,
Your way goes west, mine east. With slow-paced feet
I take my way; yet still, again, to-night,
I pause and sob before the dreary fight.
Your way goes west, mine east. With slow-paced feet
I take my way; yet still, again, to-night,
I pause and sob before the dreary fight.
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Oh, comrade, comrade, I have missed you so!
The long drear months still lagging come and go;
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
The long drear months still lagging come and go;
And I, I strive to fill them to the brim,
But still my heart cries out, But what of him?
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : | |