From one of the great black American poets, this harvest song combines formal and vernacular language to potent effect
The Corn-Stalk Fiddle
When the corn’s all cut and the bright stalks shine
Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;
When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,
And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;
Then its heigho fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,
For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle.
Related: Poem of the week: Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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