So fiddle it on 'twell de break o' de day
Fu' de sake o' my eachin' heels.
TO AN INGRATE
This is to-day, a golden summer's day
And yet—and yet
My vengeful soul will not forget
The past, forever now forgot, you say.
From that half height where I had sadly climbed,
I stretched my hand,
I lone in all that land,