Wid his hoe erpon his shouldah
      Den he goes erlong,
        ’Long to’ds night. 
    An’ he keepin’ time a-steppin’
      Wid a little song,
        ’Long to’ds night. 
  De restin’-time ‘s a-comin’, an’ de time to drink an’ eat;
  A baby’s toddlin’ to’ds him on hits little dusty feet,
  An’ a-goin’ to’ds his cabin, an’ his suppah ’s moughty sweet,
        ’Long to’ds night.

    Daih his Ca’line min’ de kettle,
      Rufus min’ de chile,
        ’Long to’ds night;
    An’ de sweat roll down his forred,
      Mixin’ wid his smile,
        ’Long to’ds night. 
  He toss his piccaninny, an’ he hum a little chune;
  De wokin’ all is ovah, an’ de suppah comin’ soon;
  De wo’kin’ time ‘s Decembah, but de restin’ time is June,
        ’Long to’ds night.

    Dey ‘s a kin’ o’ doleful feelin’,
    Hits a tendah place,
        ’Long to’ds night;
    Dey ’s a moughty glory in him
      Shinin’ thoo his face,
        Long to’ds night. 
  De cabin ‘s lak de big house, an’ de fiah’s lak de sun;
  His wife look moughty lakly, an’ de chile de puttiest one;
  W’y, hit ‘s blessid, jes’ a-livin’ w’en a body’s wo’k is done. 
        ’Long to’ds night.

A GRIEVANCE

  Wen de snow ‘s a-fallin’
    An’ de win’ is col’. 
  Mammy ‘mence a-callin’,
    Den she ‘mence to scol’,
  “Lucius Lishy Brackett,
    Don’t you go out do’s,
  Button up yo’ jacket,
    Les’n you ’ll git froze.”

  I sit at de windah
    Lookin’ at de groun’,
  Nuffin nigh to hindah,
    Mammy ain’ erroun’;
  Wish ‘t she would n’ mek me
    Set down in dis chaih;
  Pshaw, it would n’t tek me
    Long to git some aih.

  So I jump down nimble
    Ez a boy kin be,
  Dough I ’s all a-trimble
    Feahed some one ’ll see;
  Bet in a half a minute
    I fly out de do’
  An’ I ’s knee-deep in it,
    Dat dah blessed snow.

  Den I hyeah a pattah
    Come acrost de flo’. 
  Den dey comes a clattah
    At de cabin do’;
  An’ my mammy holler
    Spoilin’ all my joy,
  “Come in f’om dat waller,
    Don’t I see you, boy?”

  Wen de snow ‘s a-sievin’
    Down ez sof ez meal,
  Whut ‘s de use o’ livin’
    ’Cept you got de feel
  Of de stuff dat’s fallin’
    ‘Roun’ an’ white an’ damp,
  ‘Dout some one a-callin’,
    “Come in hyeah, you scamp!”

DINAH KNEADING DOUGH

  I have seen full many a sight
  Born of day or drawn by night: 
  Sunlight on a silver stream,
  Golden lilies all a-dream,
  Lofty mountains, bold and proud,
  Veiled beneath the lacelike cloud;
  But no lovely sight I know
  Equals Dinah kneading dough.

  Brown arms buried elbow-deep
  Their domestic rhythm keep,
  As with steady sweep they go
  Through the gently yielding dough. 
  Maids may vaunt their finer charms—­
  Naught to me like Dinah’s arms;
  Girls may draw, or paint, or sew—­
  I love Dinah kneading dough.