Turn out the light. Now would I slumber,
I’m weary with the toil of day.
Let me forget my pains to number.
Turn out the light. Dreams come to play.
Turn out the light. The hours were dreary.
Clouds of despair long hid the sun.
I’ve battled hard and now I’m weary.
Turn out the light. My day is done.
I’ve done life’s best gloom’s ways to brighten—
I’ve scattered cheer from heart to heart,
And where I could I’ve sought to righten
The wrongs of men ere day depart.
This morn ’twas bright with hope—and cheery.
This noon gave courage—made me brave.
But as the sun sank I grew weary
Till now my soul for rest doth crave.
Turn out the light. I’ve done my duty
To friend and enemy as well.
I go to sleep where things of beauty
In glitt’ring chambers ever dwell.
Turn out the light. Now would I slumber.
To rest—to dream—soon go we all.
Let’s hope we wake soul free of cumber.
Turn out the light. Dream comrades call.
The next piece I select from Mr. Jones’s first book will represent his talent in another sphere. I suggest that comparison might be made between this song in literary English and Mr. Johnson’s Negro love song in dialect, page [226.]
A SOUTHERN LOVE SONG
Dogwoods all a-bloom
Perfume earth’s big room,
White full moon is gliding o’er the sky serene.
Quiet reigns about,
In the house and out;
Hoot owl in the hollow mopes with solemn mien.
Birds have gone to rest
In each tree-top nest;
Cotton fields a-shimmer flash forth silver-green.
O’er the wild cane brake,
Whip-poor-wills awake,
And they speak in tender voicings, Heart, of You.
Answering my call,
Through the leafy hall,
Telling how I’m waiting for your tripping, Sue.
All the world is glad,
Just because I’m mad.
Sense-bereft am I through my great love for you.