Paul Laurence Dunbar

I have to highlight a favorite of mine--Paul Laurence Dunbar [1872-1906]. I just saw him again in the Beltway Poetry Quarterly here, with a lot of information about him, written by Naomi Ayala.

His poem "In Summer Time", a favorite of mine that I want to talk about, is here. He has such a beautiful sense of lyric and place. He's like an Imagist for our pastoral past in American--a Whitman like Imagist, let's say. He makes me think of paintings of pastoral vanities and diversions, about the early 1700s and the country wildflowers of France. He's an incredible writer.

Here's an excerpt of the opening that I love:

When summer time has come, and all 
The world is in the magic thrall 
Of perfumed airs that lull each sense 
To fits of drowsy indolence; 
When skies are deepest blue above, 
And flow'rs aflush,—then most I love 
To start, while early dews are damp, 
And wend my way in woodland tramp 
Where forests rustle, tree on tree, 
And sing their silent songs to me; 
Where pathways meet and pathways part,— 
To walk with Nature heart by heart, 
Till wearied out at last I lie 
Where some sweet stream steals singing by 
A mossy bank; where violets vie 
In color with the summer sky,—
[..]



And his "Love's Apotheosis" is great:


Love me. I care not what the 
     circling years
           To me may do.
If, but in spite of time and tears,
           You prove but true.

Love me--albeit grief shall dim
     mine eyes,
            And tears bedew,
I shall not e'en complain, for then
     my skies
            Shall still be blue.

Love me, and though the winter
     snow shall pile,
            And leave me chill,
They passion's warmth shall make
     for me, meanwhile,
            A sun-kissed hill. [...]