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1872–1906

LONESOME

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Mother‘ s gone a-visitin’ to spend a month er two, An’, oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flew To other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bare That the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.

The shetters flap more lazy-like‘ n what they used to do, Sence mother‘ s gone a-visitin’ to spend a month er two. We‘ ve killed the fattest chicken an’ we've cooked her to a turn; We‘ ve made the richest gravy, but I jest do n't give a durn

Fur nothin’‘ at I drink er eat, er nothin’‘ at I see. The food ai n't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me. They‘ s somep'n’ stickin’ in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue, Sence mother's gone a-visitin’ to spend a month er two.

The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they‘ re double ones at that, An’ I wuz prouder of‘ em than a baby of a cat. But now I do n't go near‘ em, though they nod an’ blush at me, Fur they‘ s somep'n’ seems to gall me in their keerless sort o’ glee

An’ all their fren'ly noddin’ an’ their blushin’ seems to say: “You‘ re purty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother‘ s gone away.” The neighbors ai n't so fren'ly ez it seems they‘ d ort to be; They seem to be a-lookin’ kinder sideways like at me,

A-kinder feared they‘ d tech me off ez ef I wuz a match, An’ all because‘ at mother‘ s gone an’ I‘ m a-keepin’ batch! I‘ m shore I do n't do nothin’ worse‘ n what I used to do ‘ Fore mother went a-visitin’ to spend a month er two.

The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an’ wo n't hop quite so near, The cricket's chirp is sadder, an’ the sky ai n't ha'f so clear; When ev'nin’ comes, I set an’ smoke tell my eyes begin to swim, An’ things aroun’ commence to look all blurred an’ faint an’ dim.

Well, I guess I‘ ll have to own up‘ at I‘ m feelin’ purty blue Sence mother's gone a-visitin’ to spend a month er two.

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LONESOME · Paul Laurence Dunbar · Poetry Cove