Oh, hit ‘s moughty mil’ an’ soothin’,
    An’ hit don’ go to yo’ haid;
  Dat ’s de reason I ‘s a-backin’
    Up de othah wo’ds I said,
      “Des ‘lasses an’ watah, ‘lasses an’ watah.”

THE DEBT

  This is the debt I pay
  Just for one riotous day,
  Years of regret and grief,
  Sorrow without relief.

  Pay it I will to the end—­
  Until the grave, my friend,
  Gives me a true release—­
  Gives me the clasp of peace.

  Slight was the thing I bought,
  Small was the debt I thought,
  Poor was the loan at best—­
  God! but the interest!

ON THE DEDICATION OF DOROTHY HALL

TUSKEGEE, ALA., APRIL 22, 1901.

  Not to the midnight of the gloomy past,
    Do we revert to-day; we look upon
  The golden present and the future vast
    Whose vistas show us visions of the dawn.

  Nor shall the sorrows of departed years
    The sweetness of our tranquil souls annoy,
  The sunshine of our hopes dispels the tears,
    And clears our eyes to see this later joy.

  Not ever in the years that God hath given
    Have we gone friendless down the thorny way,
  Always the clouds of pregnant black were riven
    By flashes from His own eternal day.

  The women of a race should be its pride;
    We glory in the strength our mothers had,
  We glory that this strength was not denied
    To labor bravely, nobly, and be glad.

  God give to these within this temple here,
    Clear vision of the dignity of toil,
  That virtue in them may its blossoms rear
    Unspotted, fragrant, from the lowly soil.

  God bless the givers for their noble deed,
    Shine on them with the mercy of Thy face,
  Who come with open hearts to help and speed
    The striving women of a struggling race.

A ROADWAY

  Let those who will stride on their barren roads
  And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads,
  Unheeding, as they struggle day by day,
  If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray: 
  For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks,
  The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks,
  A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay,
  A pause to pick a flower beside the way.

BY RUGGED WAYS

  By rugged ways and thro’ the night
  We struggle blindly toward the light;
  And groping, stumbling, ever pray
  For sight of long delaying day. 
  The cruel thorns beside the road
  Stretch eager points our steps to goad,
  And from the thickets all about
  Detaining hands reach threatening out.

  “Deliver us, oh, Lord,” we cry,
  Our hands uplifted to the sky. 
  No answer save the thunder’s peal,
  And onward, onward, still we reel. 
  “Oh, give us now thy guiding light;”
  Our sole reply, the lightning’s blight. 
  “Vain, vain,” cries one, “in vain we call;”
  But faith serene is over all.