At Sunset Time;

At Sunset Time; Paul Laurence Dunbar 1872 - 1904

A down the west a golden glow

Sinks burning in the sea,

And all the dreams of long ago

Come flooding back to me.

The past has writ a story strange

Upon my aching heart,

But time has wrought a subtle change,

My wounds have ceased to smart.

No more the quick delight of youth,

No more the sudden pain,

I look no more for trust or truth

Where greed may compass gain.

What, was it I who bared my heart

Through unrelenting years,

And knew the sting of misery's dart,

The tang of sorrow's tears?

'Tis better now, I do not weep,

I do not laugh nor care;

My soul and spirit half asleep

Drift aimless everywhere.

We float upon a sluggish stream,

We ride no rapids mad,

While life is all a tempered dream

And every joy half sad.

Photo TS

Poetry; Paul Laurence Dunbar;

One of my favourite poets; Paul Laurence Dunbar; 1872-1906;

AS a quiet little seedling lay within its darksome bed,

to itself it fell a-talking, and this is what it said:

"I am not so very robust, but I'll do the best I can;"

And the seedling from that moment its work of life began.

So it pushed a little leaflet up into the light of day,

To examine the surroundings and show the rest the way.

The leaflet liked the prospect, so it called its brother, Stem;

Then two other leaflets heard it, and quickly followed them.


To be sure, the haste and hurry made the seedling sweat and pant;

But almost before it knew it, it found itself a plant.

The sunshine poured upon it and the clouds they gave a shower;

And the little plant kept growing, till it found itself a flower.

Little folks, be like the seedling, always do the best you can;

Every child must share life's labor just as well as every man.

And the sun and showers will help you through the lonesome, struggling hours,

Till you raise to light and beauty virtue's fair, unfading flowers.

Photos Flowers TS.