The Poetry Corner


By Paul Laurence Dunbar

When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes The light dies out; my soul replies With misery of deep-drawn breath, E'en as it were at war with death. When Phyllis smiles, her glance beguiles My heart through love-lit woodland aisles, And through the silence high and clear, A wooing warbler's song I hear. But if she frown, despair comes down, I put me on my sack-cloth gown; So frown not, Phyllis, lest I die, But look on me with smile or sigh.