The Poetry Corner

W'En I Gits Home

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

It's moughty tiahsome layin' 'roun' Dis sorrer-laden earfly groun', An' oftentimes I thinks, thinks I, 'T would be a sweet t'ing des to die, An' go 'long home. Home whaih de frien's I loved 'll say, "We've waited fu' you many a day, Come hyeah an' res' yo'se'f, an' know You's done wid sorrer an' wid woe, Now you's at home." W'en I gits home some blessid day, I 'lows to th'ow my caihs erway, An' up an' down de shinin' street, Go singin' sof' an' low an' sweet, W'en I gits home. I wish de day was neah at han', I's tiahed of dis grievin' lan', I's tiahed of de lonely yeahs, I want to des dry up my teahs, An' go 'long home. Oh, Mastah, won't you sen' de call? My frien's is daih, my hope, my all. I 's waitin' whaih de road is rough, I want to hyeah you say, "Enough, Ol' man, come home!"