Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

1872–1906 · lived 33 years -- --

Paul Laurence Dunbar was a pioneering African American poet, novelist, and playwright, celebrated for his skillful use of dialect and standard English in his verse. His work often explored the experiences of Black Americans, touching on themes of racial prejudice, everyday life, and the enduring spirit of his community. Dunbar's lyrical talent and his ability to capture the nuances of Black American vernacular earned him widespread recognition during his lifetime.

n. 1872-06-27, Dayton · m. 1906-02-09, Dayton

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We Wear the Mask

We Wear the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
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Bio

Identification and basic context

Paul Laurence Dunbar was an American poet, novelist, and playwright. He is considered one of the first highly successful African American writers of poetry.

Childhood and education

Born in Dayton, Ohio, to parents who had been enslaved in Kentucky, Dunbar experienced both the lingering effects of slavery and the burgeoning opportunities of the post-Reconstruction era. He was an excellent student and editor of his high school newspaper, demonstrating early literary talent. He attended integrated schools and developed a strong command of language.

Literary trajectory

Dunbar's literary career began to flourish in the 1890s. He self-published his first poetry collection, "Oak and Ivy," and later gained wider recognition with "Lyrics of Lowly Life." He was adept at writing in both standard English and African American vernacular dialects, a duality that became a hallmark of his work. He also wrote novels, short stories, and plays.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Dunbar's most famous works include "When Malindy Sings," "Sympathy" (which contains the line "I know why the caged bird sings"), and "We Wear the Mask." He explored themes of racial injustice, the hardships faced by African Americans, and the joys and sorrows of everyday life. His style varied, from sophisticated formal English to vivid dialect poetry that captured the rhythms and colloquialisms of Black speech. He often used traditional poetic forms but infused them with authentic Black voices and experiences.

Cultural and historical context

Dunbar wrote during a pivotal and challenging period for African Americans, marked by the rise of Jim Crow laws and continued racial discrimination. His work provided a vital voice for the Black community, offering both critique and celebration of their culture and resilience. He was part of a growing literary movement among Black intellectuals and artists.

Personal life

Dunbar's life was marked by personal struggles, including financial difficulties and health problems, particularly tuberculosis. Despite these challenges, he maintained a prolific writing schedule. He was married to Alice Ruth Moore, a writer and educator herself.

Recognition and reception

Dunbar achieved national fame during his lifetime, a rare accomplishment for an African American writer of his era. He was widely published and read, and his work was celebrated by both Black and white audiences, though some critics at the time focused primarily on his dialect poetry, sometimes overlooking the sophistication of his formal verse.

Influences and legacy

Dunbar was influenced by earlier poets and by the oral traditions of African American culture. He, in turn, influenced subsequent generations of Black writers, including Langston Hughes. His use of dialect brought a new authenticity to American literature, and his exploration of Black identity paved the way for future literary movements.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Dunbar's work is analyzed for its complex negotiation of racial identity in America. Critics examine his use of dialect as both a means of authentic representation and a potential tool for perpetuating stereotypes, depending on the context. His poems often reveal a tension between the desire for uplift and the reality of oppression.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Dunbar was known for his charismatic personality and was a gifted orator. He was also a musician, playing the banjo and composing music. His ability to move between the formal literary world and the vernacular traditions of his community highlights his unique position in American letters.

Death and memory

Paul Laurence Dunbar died on February 9, 1906, at the age of 36, from tuberculosis. His death was a significant loss to American literature. His works continue to be studied and celebrated for their literary merit and their historical importance in giving voice to the African American experience.

Poems

18

If I Could But Forget

If I Could But Forget
If I could but forget
The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the haze
Of unacquaintance, on my sight,
And made the wet, gray day seem bright
While clouds themselves grew fair to see.
And since, no day is gray or wet
But all the scene comes back to me,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
How your dusk eyes look into mine,
And how I thrilled as with strong wine
Beneath your touch; while sped amain
The quickened stream thro' ev'ry vein;
How near my breath fell to a gasp,
When for a space our fingers met
In one electric vibrant clasp,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
The months of passion and of pain,
And all that followed in their train--
Rebellious thoughts that would arise,
Rebellious tears that dimmed mine eyes,
The prayers that I might set love's fire
Aflame within your bosom yet--
The death at last of that desire--
If I could but forget.
630

Encouraged

Encouraged
Because you love me I have much achieved,
Had you despised me then I must have failed,
But since I knew you trusted and believed,
I could not disappoint you and so prevailed.
492

Frederick Douglass

Frederick Douglass
A hush is over all the teeming lists,
And there is pause, a breath-space in the strife;
A spirit brave has passed beyond the mists
And vapors that obscure the sun of life.
And Ethiopia, with bosom torn,
Laments the passing of her noblest born.
She weeps for him a mother's burning tears--
She loved him with a mother's deepest love
He was her champion thro' direful years,
And held her weal all other ends above.
When Bondage held her bleeding in the dust,
He raised her up and whispered, 'Hope and Trust.'
For her his voice, a fearless clarion, rung
That broke in warning on the ears of men;
For her the strong bow of his pow'r he strung
And sent his arrows to the very den
Where grim Oppression held his bloody place
And gloated o'er the mis'ries of a race.
And he was no soft-tongued apologist;
He spoke straight-forward, fearlessly uncowed;
The sunlight of his truth dispelled the mist
And set in bold relief each dark-hued cloud;
To sin and crime he gave their proper hue,
And hurled at evil what was evil's due.
Thro' good and ill report he cleaved his way
Right onward, with his face set toward the heights,
Nor feared to face the foeman's dread array--
The lash of scorn, the sting of petty spites.
He dared the lightning in the lightning's track,
And answered thunder with his thunder back.
When men maligned him and their torrent wrath
In furious imprecations o'er him broke,
He kept his counsel as he kept his path;
'Twas for his race, not for himself, he spoke.
He knew the import of his Master's call
And felt himself too mighty to be small.
No miser in the good he held was he--
His kindness followed his horizon's rim.
His heart, his talents and his hands were free
To all who truly needed aught of him.
Where poverty and ignorance were rife,
He gave his bounty as he gave his life.
The place and cause that first aroused his might
Still proved its pow'r until his latest day.
In Freedom's lists and for the aid of Right


Still in the foremost rank he waged the fray;
Wrong lived; His occupation was not gone.
He died in action with his armor on!
We weep for him, but we have touched his hand,
And felt the magic of his presence nigh,
The current that he sent thro' out the land,
The kindling spirit of his battle-cry
O'er all that holds us we shall triumph yet
And place our banner where his hopes were set!
Oh, Douglass, thou hast passed beyond the shore,
But still thy voice is ringing o'er the gale!
Thou 'st taught thy race how high her hopes may soar
And bade her seek the heights, nor faint, nor fail.
She will not fail, she heeds thy stirring cry,
She knows thy guardian spirit will be nigh,
And rising from beneath the chast'ning rod,
She stretches out her bleeding hands to God!
1,119

Distinction

Distinction
"I am but clay," the sinner plead,
Who fed each vain desire.
"Not only clay," another said,
"But worse, for thou art mire."
379

Common Things

Common Things
I like to hear of wealth and gold,
And El Doradoes in their glory;
I like for silks and satins bold
To sweep and rustle through a story.
The nightingale is sweet of song;
The rare exotic smells divinely;
And knightly men who stride along,
The role heroic carry finely.
But then, upon the other hand,
Our minds have got a way of running
To things that aren't quite so grand,
Which, maybe, we are best in shunning.
For some of us still like to see
The poor man in his dwelling narrow,
The hollyhock, the bumblebee,
The meadow lark, and chirping sparrow.
We like the man who soars and sings
With high and lofty inspiration;
But he who sings of common things
Shall always share our admiration.
528

A Golden Day

A Golden Day
I Found you and I lost you,
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the land was full of May.
A golden bird was singing
Its melody divine,
I found you and I loved you,
And all the world was mine.
I found you and I lost you,
All on a golden day,
But when I dream of you, dear,
It is always brimming May.
508

Accountability

Accountability
FOLKS ain't got no right to censuah othah folks about dey habits;
Him dat giv' de squir'ls de bushtails made de bobtails fu' de rabbits.
Him dat built de gread big mountains hollered out de little valleys,
Him dat made de streets an' driveways wasn't shamed to make de alleys.
We is all constructed diff'ent, d'ain't no two of us de same;
We cain't he'p ouah likes an' dislikes, ef we'se bad we ain't to blame.
Ef we'se good, we need n't show off, case you bet it ain't ouah doin'
We gits into su'ttain channels dat we jes' cain't he'p pu'suin'.
But we all fits into places dat no othah ones could fill,
An' we does the things we has to, big er little, good er ill.
John cain't tek de place o' Henry, Su an' Sally ain't alike;
Bass ain't nuthin' like a suckah, chub ain't nuthin' like a pike.
When you come to think about it, how it's all planned out it's splendid.
Nuthin's done er evah happens, 'dout hit's somefin' dat's intended;
Don't keer whut you does, you has to, an' hit sholy beats de dickens,--
Viney, go put on de kittle, I got one o' mastah's chickens.
480

A Choice

A Choice
They please me not-- these solemn songs
That hint of sermons covered up.
'T is true the world should heed its wrongs,
But in a poem let me sup,
Not simples brewed to cure or ease
Humanity's confessed disease,
But the spirit-wine of a singing line,
Or a dew-drop in a honey cup!
424

Quotes

6

Videos

50

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