Heart of my heart, the day is chill,
  Whene’er thy loving voice is still,
  The cloud and mist hide the sky from me,
  Whene’er thy face I cannot see. 
  My thoughts fly back from the chill without,
  My mind in the storm drops doubt on doubt,
  No songs arise.  Without thee, love,
  My soul sinks down like a frightened dove.

LI’L’ GAL

  Oh, de weathah it is balmy an’ de breeze is sighin’ low. 
          Li’l’ gal,
  An’ de mockin’ bird is singin’ in de locus’ by de do’,
          Li’l’ gal;
  Dere ‘s a hummin’ an’ a bummin’ in de lan’ f’om eas’ to wes’,
  I ‘s a-sighin’ fu’ you, honey, an’ I nevah know no res’. 
  Fu’ dey ‘s lots o’ trouble brewin’ an’ a-stewin’ in my breas’,
          Li’l’ gal.

  Whut ’s de mattah wid de weathah, whut’s de mattah wid de breeze,
          Li’l’ gal? 
  Whut ‘s de mattah wid de locus’ dat ‘s a-singin’ in de trees,
          Li’l’ gal? 
  W’y dey knows dey ladies love ’em, an’ dey knows dey love ’em true,
  An’ dey love ’em back, I reckon, des’ lak I ‘s a-lovin’ you;
  Dat ’s de reason dey ‘s a-weavin’ an’ a-sighin’, thoo an’ thoo,
          Li’l’ gal.

  Don’t you let no da’ky fool you ’cause de clo’es he waihs is fine,
          Li’l’ gal. 
  Dey ‘s a hones’ hea’t a-beatin’ unnerneaf dese rags o’ mine,
          Li’l’ gal. 
  Cose dey ain’ no use in mockin’ whut de birds an’ weathah do,
  But I ’s so’y I cain’t ’spress it w’en I knows I loves you true,
  Dat ’s de reason I ‘s a-sighin’ an’ a-singin now fu’ you,
          Li’l’ gal.

DOUGLASS

  Ah, Douglass, we have fall’n on evil days,
    Such days as thou, not even thou didst know,
    When thee, the eyes of that harsh long ago
  Saw, salient, at the cross of devious ways,
  And all the country heard thee with amaze. 
    Not ended then, the passionate ebb and flow,
    The awful tide that battled to and fro;
  We ride amid a tempest of dispraise.

  Now, when the waves of swift dissension swarm,
    And Honor, the strong pilot, lieth stark,
  Oh, for thy voice high-sounding o’er the storm,
    For thy strong arm to guide the shivering bark,
  The blast-defying power of thy form,
    To give us comfort through the lonely dark.

WHEN SAM’L SINGS

  Hyeah dat singin’ in de medders
    Whaih de folks is mekin’ hay? 
  Wo’k is pretty middlin’ heavy
    Fu’ a man to be so gay. 
  You kin tell dey ’s somep’n special
    F’om de canter o’ de song;
  Somep’n sholy pleasin’ Sam’l,
    W’en he singin’ all day long.

  Hyeahd him wa’blin’ ‘way dis mo’nin’
    ‘Fo’ ’t was light enough to see. 
  Seem lak music in de evenin’
    Allus good enough fu’ me. 
  But dat man commenced to hollah
    ‘Fo’ he ’d even washed his face;
  Would you b’lieve, de scan’lous rascal
    Woke de birds erroun’ de place?