Oh it were sweet to think
    That May should be ours again,
  Hoping it not, I shrink,
    Out of the sight of men.

  May brings the flowers to bloom,
    It brings the green leaves to the tree,
  And the fatally sweet perfume,
    Of what you once were to me.

DREAMS

  What dreams we have and how they fly
  Like rosy clouds across the sky;
    Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,
    Of love that comes to cheer and bless;
  And how they wither, how they fade,
  The waning wealth, the jilting jade—­
    The fame that for a moment gleams,
    Then flies forever,—­dreams, ah—­dreams!

  O burning doubt and long regret,
  O tears with which our eyes are wet,
    Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain,
    The somber cloud, the bitter rain,
  You were not of those dreams—­ah! well,
  Your full fruition who can tell? 
    Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams
    Upon our souls, all dreams—­ah! dreams.

THE TRYST

  De night creep down erlong de lan’,
    De shadders rise an’ shake,
  De frog is sta’tin’ up his ban’,
    De cricket is awake;
  My wo’k is mos’ nigh done, Celes’,
    To-night I won’t be late,
  I ‘s hu’yin’ thoo my level bes’,
    Wait fu’ me by de gate.

  De mockin’-bird ‘ll sen’ his glee
    A-thrillin’ thoo and thoo,
  I know dat ol’ magnolia-tree
    Is smellin’ des’ fu’ you;
  De jessamine erside de road
    Is bloomin’ rich an’ white,
  My hea’t ‘s a-th’obbin’ ’cause it knowed
    You ‘d wait fu’ me to-night.

  Hit ‘s lonesome, ain’t it, stan’in’ thaih
    Wid no one nigh to talk? 
  But ain’t dey whispahs in de aih
    Erlong de gyahden walk? 
  Don’t somep’n kin’ o’ call my name,
    An’ say “he love you bes’”? 
  Hit ’s true, I wants to say de same,
    So wait fu’ me, Celes’.

  Sing somep’n fu’ to pass de time,
    Outsing de mockin’-bird,
  You got de music an’ de rhyme,
    You beat him wid de word. 
  I ‘s comin’ now, my wo’k is done,
    De hour has come fu’ res’,
  I wants to fly, but only run—­
    Wait fu’ me, deah Celes’.

A PLEA

  Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane,
      Treat me nice. 
  Dough my love has tu’ned my brain,
      Treat me nice. 
  I ain’t done a t’ing to shame,
  Lovahs all ac’s jes’ de same;
  Don’t you know we ain’t to blame? 
      Treat me nice!

  Cose I know I ‘s talkin’ wild;
      Treat me nice;
  I cain’t talk no bettah, child,
      Treat me nice;
  Whut a pusson gwine to do,
  Wen he come a-cou’tin’ you
  All a-trimblin’ thoo and thoo? 
      Please be nice.

  Reckon I mus’ go de paf
      Othahs do: 
  Lovahs lingah, ladies laff;
      Mebbe you
  Do’ mean all the things you say,
  An’ pu’haps some latah day
  W’en I baig you ha’d, you may
      Treat me nice!