The Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Many literary scholars claim that Paul Laurence Dunbar was the first great African American poet, and his work demonstrates a keen double consciousness. His most popular work, especially among white audiences, was his “dialectic” poetry, written in the style of black dialect (63). This allowed whites to read his work as a sort of minstrel indulgence in literature. Dunbar also wrote non-dialectic poetry, including one of his most famous poems, “Sympathy,” which poignantly describes the yearnings of African Americans through the image of a bird beating its wings against its cage.

Read and reflect

Below are two of Dunbar's poems, one written in dialectic style and one in "standard" english. As you read them, think about the following questions:

In "Accountability," how is the narrator, who is a slave, portrayed?

How does the narrator conform to common racial stereotypes? How does the narrator subvert these stereotypes?

Do you think J.C. Reid would prefer "Accountability" or "Sympathy?" Which do you think Fredrick McGhee would prefer?

How do you see double consciousness in both poems?

Accountability (64)

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.

Sympathy (65)

  I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
        When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
    When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
    And the river flows like a stream of glass;
        When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
    And the faint perfume from its chalice steals —
    I know what the caged bird feels!

    I know why the caged bird beats his wing
        Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
    For he must fly back to his perch and cling
    When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
        And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
    And they pulse again with a keener sting —
    I know why he beats his wing!

    I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
        When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
    When he beats his bars and he would be free;
    It is not a carol of joy or glee,
        But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
    But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings —
    I know why the caged bird sings!