Come hyeah; bring me dat ah strap! Boy, I'll whup you 'twell you drap; You done felt yo'se'f too strong, An' you sholy got me wrong. Set down at dat table thaih; Jes' you whimpah ef you daih! Evah mo'nin' on dis place, Seem lak I mus' lose my grace. Fol' yo' han's an' bow yo' haid-- Wait ontwell de blessin' 's said; "Lawd, have mussy on ouah souls--" (Don' you daih to tech dem rolls--) "Bless de food we gwine to eat--" (You set still-I _see_ yo' feet; You jes' try dat trick agin!) "Gin us peace an' joy. Amen!" THE POET He sang of life, serenely sweet, With, now and then, a deeper note. From some high peak, nigh yet remote, He voiced the world's absorbing beat. He sang of love when earth was young, And Love, itself, was in his lays. But ah, the world, it turned to praise A jingle in a broken tongue. A FLORIDA NIGHT Win' a-blowin' gentle so de san' lay low, San' a little heavy f'om de rain, All de pa'ms a-wavin' an' a-weavin' slow, Sighin' lak a sinnah-soul in pain. Alligator grinnin' by de ol' lagoon, Mockin'-bird a-singin' to be big full moon. 'Skeeter go a-skimmin' to his fightin' chune (Lizy Ann's a-waitin' in de lane!). Moccasin a-sleepin' in de cyprus swamp; Need n't wake de gent'man, not fu' me. Mule, you need n't wake him w'en you switch an' stomp, Fightin' off a 'skeeter er a flea. Florida is lovely, she's de fines' lan' Evah seed de sunlight f'om de Mastah's han', 'Ceptin' fu' de varmints an' huh fleas an' san' An' de nights w'en Lizy Ann ain' free. Moon 's a-kinder shaddered on de melon patch; No one ain't a-watchin' ez I go. Climbin' of de fence so 's not to click de latch Meks my gittin' in a little slow. Watermelon smilin' as it say, "I' s free;" Alligator boomin', but I let him be, Florida, oh, Florida 's de lan' fu' me-- (Lizy Ann a-singin' sweet an' low). DIFFERENCES My neighbor lives on the hill, And I in the valley dwell, My neighbor must look down on me, Must I look up?--ah, well, My neighbor lives on the hill, And I in the valley dwell. My neighbor reads, and prays, And I--I laugh, God wot, And sing like a bird when the grass is green In my small garden plot; But ah, he reads and prays, And I--I laugh, God wot. His face is a book of woe, And mine is a song of glee; A slave he is to the great "They say," But I--I am bold and free; No wonder he smacks of woe, And I have the tang of glee. My neighbor thinks me a fool, "The same to yourself," say I; "Why take your books and take your prayers, Give me the open sky;" My neighbor thinks me a fool, "The same to yourself," say I. LONG AGO