Wen I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black,
Dey's a kin' o' wa'nin' shivah goes a-scootin' down my back;
I have seen full many a sight
Born of day or drawn by night:
Sunlight on a silver stream,
When August days are hot an' dry,
When burning copper is the sky,
I 'd rather fish than feast or fly
In airy realms serene and high.
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
Frost a-comin' in de night,
Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
Possum keepin' out o' sight.
De win' is hollahin' 'Daih you' to de shuttahs an' de fiah,
De snow's a-sayin' 'Got you' to de groun',
A cloud fell down from the heavens,
And broke on the mountain's brow;
It scattered the dusky fragments
All over the vale below.
Come to the pane, draw the curtain apart,
There she is passing, the girl of my heart;
See where she walks like a queen in the street,
Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
He had his dream, and all through life,
Worked up to it through toil and strife.
Afloat fore'er before his eyes,
IF you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er;