by
Paul Laurence Dunbar

Two Little Boots

Two little boots all rough an’ wo’,
Two little boots!
Law, I ‘s kissed ‘em times befo’,
Dese little boots!
Seems de toes a-peepin’ thoo
Dis hyeah hole an’ sayin’ “Boo!”
Evah time dey looks at you —
Dese little boots.

Membah de time he put ‘em on,
          Dese little boots;
Riz an’ called fu’ ‘em by dawn,
          Dese little boots;
Den he tromped de livelong day,
Laffin’ in his happy way,
Evaht’ing he had to say,
           “My little boots!”

Kickin’ de san’ de whole day long,
         Dem little boots;
Good de cobblah made ‘em strong,
         Dem little boots!
Rocks was fu’ dat baby’s use,
I’on had to stan’ abuse
W’en you tu’ned dese champeens loose,
          Dese little boots!

Ust to make de ol’ cat cry,
Dese little boots;
Den you walked it mighty high,
Proud little boots!
Ahms akimbo, stan’in’ wide,
Eyes a-sayin’ “Dis is pride!”
Den de manny-baby stride!
You little boots.

Somehow, you don’ seem so gay,
        Po’ little boots,
Sence yo’ ownah went erway,
        Po’ little boots!
Yo’ bright tops don’ look so red,
Dese brass tips is dull an’ dead;
“Goo’-by,” whut de baby said;
          Deah little boots!

Ain’t you kin’ o’ sad yo’se’f,
You little boots?
Dis is all his mammy ‘s lef’,
Two little boots.
Sence huh baby gone an’ died.
Heav’n itse’f hit seem to hide
Des a little bit inside
Two little boots.

To the Road

Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,
Who ‘s for the road?
Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,
Who ‘s for the road?
Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder,
Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder;
This be your lot till the season grow older;
Who ‘s for the road?

Up and away in the hush of the morning,
Who ‘s for the road?
Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning,
Who ‘s for the road?
Music of warblers so merrily singing,
Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing,
Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging,
These on the road.

Now every house is a hut or a hovel,
Come to the road:
Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel,
But to the road.
Throw off the loads that are bending you double;
Love is for life, only labor is trouble;
Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble:
Come to the road!

A Spring Wooing

Come on walkin’ wid me, Lucy; ‘t ain’t no time to mope erroun’
Wen de sunshine ‘s shoutin’ glory in de sky,
An’ de little Johnny-Jump-Ups ‘s jes’ a-springin’ f’om de groun’,
Den a-lookin’ roun’ to ax each othah w’y.
Don’ you hyeah dem cows a-mooin’? Dat ‘s dey howdy to de spring;
Ain’ dey lookin’ most oncommon satisfied?
Hit ‘s enough to mek a body want to spread dey mouf an’ sing
Jes’ to see de critters all so spa’klin’-eyed.

W’y dat squir’l dat jes’ run past us, ef I did n’ know his tricks,
    I could swaih he ‘d got ‘uligion jes’ to-day;
An’ dem liza’ds slippin’ back an’ fofe ermong de stones an’ sticks
    Is a-wigglin’ ‘cause dey feel so awful gay.
Oh, I see yo’ eyes a-shinin’ dough you try to mek me b’lieve
    Dat you ain’ so monst’ous happy ‘cause you come;
But I tell you dis hyeah weathah meks it moughty ha’d to ‘ceive
    Ef a body’s soul ain’ blin’ an’ deef an’ dumb.