Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
via the Academy of American Poets
Born on June 27, 1872, Paul Laurence Dunbar was one of the first African-American poets to gain
national recognition. His parents Joshua and Matilda Murphy Dunbar were freed slaves from
Kentucky. His parents separated shortly after his birth, but Dunbar would draw on their stories
of plantation life throughout his writing career. By the age of fourteen, Dunbar had poems
published in the Dayton Herald. While in high school he edited the Dayton Tattler, a short-lived
black newspaper published by classmate Orville Wright.
Despite being a fine student, Dunbar was financially unable to attend college and took a job as an
elevator operator. In 1892, a former teacher invited him to read his poems at a meeting of the
Western Association of Writers; his work impressed his audience to such a degree that the
popular poet James Whitcomb Riley wrote him a letter of encouragement. In 1893, Dunbar selfpublished a collection called Oak and Ivy. To help pay the publishing costs, he sold the book for a
dollar to people riding in his elevator.
Later that year, Dunbar moved to Chicago, hoping to find work at the first World’s Fair. He
befriended Frederick Douglass, who found him a job as a clerk, and also arranged for him to read
a selection of his poems. Douglass said of Dunbar that he was “the most promising young colored
man in America.” By 1895, Dunbar’s poems began appearing in major national newspapers and
magazines, such as The New York Times. With the help of friends, he published the second
collection, Majors and Minors (Hadley & Hadley, 1895). The poems written in standard English
were called “majors," and those in dialect were termed “minors.” Although the “major” poems
outnumber those written in dialect, it was the dialect poems that brought Dunbar the most
attention. The noted novelist and critic William Dean Howells gave a favorable review to the
poems in Harper’s Weekly.
This recognition helped Dunbar gain national and international acclaim, and in 1897 he
embarked on a six-month reading tour of England. He also brought out a new collection, Lyrics of
Lowly Life (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1896). Upon returning to America, Dunbar received a clerkship
at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC, and shortly thereafter he married the writer Alice
Ruth Moore. While living in Washington, Dunbar published a short story collection, Folks from
Dixie (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1898), a novel entitled The Uncalled (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1898), and
two more collections of poems, Lyrics of the Hearthside (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1899) and Poems of
Cabin and Field (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1899). He also contributed lyrics to a number of musical
reviews.
In 1898, Dunbar’s health deteriorated; he believed the dust in the library contributed to his
tuberculosis and left his job to dedicate himself full time to writing and giving readings. Over the
next five years, he would produce three more novels and three short story collections. Dunbar
separated from his wife in 1902, and shortly thereafter he suffered a nervous breakdown and a
bout of pneumonia. Although ill and drinking too much in attempt to soothe his coughing,
Dunbar continued to write poems. His collections from this time include Lyrics of Love and
Laughter (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1903), Howdy, Howdy, Howdy (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1905),
and Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow (Dodd, Mead and Co., 1903). These books confirmed his
position as America’s premier black poet. Dunbar’s steadily deteriorating health caused him to
return to his mother’s home in Dayton, Ohio, where he died on February 9, 1906, at the age of
thirty-three.
Signs of the Times
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
Frost a-comin' in de night,
Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
Possum keepin' out o' sight.
Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd,
Nary step so proud ez his;
Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,
Yo' do' know whut time it is.
Cidah press commence a-squeakin'
Eatin' apples sto'ed away,
Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,
Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.
Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'
At de geese a-flyin' souf,
Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin';
Ef he did he'd shet his mouf.
Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallah
Mek me open up my eyes;
Seems lak it's a-lookin' at me
Jes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies."
Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',
Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack;
Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,
You ain't seed no almanac.
Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'd
Seein' how things is comin' on,
Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin'—
Good times comin' sho's you bo'n.
Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',
Den his face break in a smile—
Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,
He's gwine nab you atter while.
Choppin' suet in de kitchen,
Stonin' raisins in de hall,
Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,
Spices groun'—I smell 'em all.
Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',
You ain' luned de sense ob feah,
You ol' fool, yo' naik's in dangah,
Do' you know Thanksgibbin's hyeah?
Sympathy
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Paul Laurence Dunbar