Page:The complete poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar.pdf/86


 * Went not alone into that shrouding night!

O dauntless darer of the rayless dark,
 * The world sailed with thee to eternal light!

The deer-haunts that with game were crowded then
 * To-day are tilled and cultivated lands;

The schoolhouse tow'rs where Bruin had his den,
 * And where the wigwam stood the chapel stands;

The place that nurtured men of savage mien
 * Now teems with men of Nature's noblest types;

Where moved the forest-foliage banner green,
 * Now flutters in the breeze the stars and stripes!

, I have n't got long to live, for we all
 * Die soon, e'en those who live longest;

And the poorest and weakest are taking their chance
 * Along with the richest and strongest.

So it's heigho for a glass and a song,
 * And a bright eye over the table,

And a dog for the hunt when the game is flush,
 * And the pick of a gentleman's stable.

There is Dimmock o' Dune, he was here yester-night,
 * But he's rotting to-day on Glen Arragh;

'T was the hand o' MacPherson that gave him the blow,
 * And the vultures shall feast on his marrow.

But it's heigho for a brave old song
 * And a glass while we are able;

Here 's a health to death and another cup
 * To the bright eye over the table.

I can show a broad back and a jolly deep chest,
 * But who argues now on appearance?

A blow or a thrust or a stumble at best
 * May send me to-day to my clearance.

Then it's heigho for the things I love,
 * My mother 'll be soon wearing sable,

But give me my horse and my dog and my glass,
 * And a bright eye over the table.