Page:The complete poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar.pdf/93

 Bloodshot eyes all strained and staring,
 * Gazing ghastly into mine;
 * Blood like wine

On the brow—clotted now—
 * Shows death's dreadful sign.

Lonely vigil still I keep; Would that I might sleep!

Still, oh, still, my brain is whirling!
 * Still runs on my stream of thought;
 * I am caught

In the net fate hath set.
 * Mind and soul are brought

To destruction's very brink; Yet I can but think!

Eyes that look into the future,—
 * Peeping forth from out my mind,
 * They will find

Some new weight, soon or late,
 * On my soul to bind,
 * Crushing all its courage out,—

Heavier than doubt.

Dawn, the Eastern monarch's daughter,
 * Rising from her dewy bed,
 * Lays her head

'Gainst the clouds' sombre shrouds
 * Now half fringed with red.

O'er the land she 'gins to peep; Come, O gentle Sleep!

Hark! the morning cock is crowing;
 * Dreams, like ghosts, must hie away;
 * 'Tis the day.

Rosy morn now is born;
 * Dark thoughts may not stay.

Day my brain from foes will keep; Now, my soul, I sleep.

went faring up and down,
 * Alack and well-a-day.

He fared him to the market town,
 * Alack and well-a-day.

And there he met a maiden fair, With hazel eyes and auburn hair; His heart went from him then and there,
 * Alack and well-a-day.

She posies sold right merrily,
 * Alack and well-a-day;

But not a flower was fair as she,
 * Alack and well-a-day.

He bought a rose and sighed a sigh, "Ah, dearest maiden, would that I Might dare the seller too to buy!"
 * Alack and well-a-day.

She tossed her head, the coy coquette,
 * Alack and well-a-day.