Dorothy South

“Possum’s mighty nice.”

Here the reader will observe the instinctive dramatic skill with which the poet, having reached the climax of the situation, abruptly rings down the curtain, as it were. There is no waste of words in unnecessary explanations, no delaying of the action with needless comment. And at the end of the second stanza we encounter a masterly touch. Instead of telling us with prosaic literalness that the nigga succeeded in slaying his game, the poet suggests the entire action with the figurative phrase – “It’s ‘good-by, Mistah Possum.’ ”

There is a fine poetic reserve too in the abrupt shifting of the scene from tree to table, and the presentation of the denouement without other preparation than such as the reader’s imagination may easily furnish for itself. We are not told that the possum was dressed and cooked; even the presence of stuffing as an adjunct to the savor of the dish is left to be inferred from the purely casual suggestion made in the first stanza of the fact that stuffing tends to enrich as well as to adorn the viand.

These qualities and some others of a notable kind appear in the next example we are permitted to give of this poet’s work.

Ole crow flyin’ roun’ de fiel’,
A lookin’ fer de cawn;
Mahstah wid he shot gun
A settin’ in de bawn.

Ole crow see a skeer crow
A standin’ in the cawn;
Nebber see de Mahstah
A settin’ in de bawn.

Ole crow say: – “De skeer crow,
He ain’t got no gun, —
Jes’ a lot o’ ole clo’es
A standin’ in de sun;

Ole crow needn’t min’ him,
Ole crow git some cawn;
But he nebber see de Mahstah
A settin’ in de bawn.

Ole crow wuk like nigga
A pullin’ up de cawn —
Mahstah pull de trigga,
Ober in de bawn.

Ole crow flop an’ flutter —
He’s done got it, sho’!
Skeer crow shakin’ in he sleeve
A laughin’ at de crow.

There is a compactness of statement here – a resolute elimination of the superfluous which might well commend the piece to those modern theatrical managers who seem to regard dialogue as an impertinence in a play.

Sometimes the poet went even further and presented only the barest suggestion of the thought in his mind, leaving the reader to supply the rest. Such is the case in the poem next to be set down as an example, illustrative of the poet’s method. It consists of but a single stanza:

De day’s done gone, de wuk’s done done,
An’ Mahstah he smoke he pipe;
But nigga he ain’t done jes yit,
Cause – de watermillion’s ripe.

Here we have in four brief lines an entirely adequate suggestion of the predatory habits of “Nigga,” and of his attitude of mind toward “watermillions.” With the bare statement of the fact that the fruit in question has attained its succulent maturity, we are left to discover for ourselves the causal relation between that fact and the intimated purpose of “Nigga” to continue his activities during the hours of darkness. The exceeding subtlety of all this cannot fail to awaken the reader’s admiring sympathy.

Perhaps the most elaborately wrought out of these song ballads is the one which has been reserved for the last. Its text here follows:

Possum’s good an’ hoe cake’s fine,
An’ so is mammy’s pies,
But bes’ of all good t’ings to eat
Is chickens, fryin’ size.

How I lubs a moonlight night
When stars is in de skies!
But sich nights ain’t no good to git
De chickens, fryin’ size.

De moonlight night is shiny bright,
Jes’ like a nigga’s eyes,
But dark nights is the bes’ to git
De chickens, fryin’ size.

When Mahstah he is gone to sleep,
An’ black clouds hides de skies,
Oh, den’s de time to crawl an’ creep
Fer chickens, fryin’ size.

Fer den prehaps you won’t git kotched
Nor hab to tell no lies,
An’ mebbe you’ll git safe away
Wid chickens, fryin’ size.

But you mus’ look out sharp fer noise
An’ hush de chicken’s cries,
Fer mighty wakin’ is de squawks
Of chickens, fryin’ size.

To gross minds this abrupt, admonitory ending of the poem will be disappointing. It leaves the reader wishing for more – more chicken, if not more poetry. And yet in this self-restrained ending of the piece the poet is fully justified by the practice of other great masters of the poetic art. Who that has read Coleridge’s superb fragment “Kubla Khan,” does not long to know more of the “stately pleasure dome” and of those “caverns measureless to man” through which “Alph the sacred river ran, down to a sunless sea”?

We present these illustrative examples of Dick’s verse in full confidence that both his inspiration and his methods will make their own appeal to discriminating minds. If there be objection made to the somewhat irregular word forms employed by this poet, the ready answer is that the same characteristic marks many of the writings of Robert Burns, and that Homer himself employed a dialect. If it is suggested that Dick’s verbs are sometimes out of agreement with their nominatives, it is easy to imagine Dick contemptuously replying, “Who keers ’bout dat?”

XIV

DOROTHY’S AFFAIRS

AGOOD many things happened “endurin’ of the feveh” – if Dick’s expressive and by no means inapt phrase may again be employed.

First of all the outbreak gave Madison Peyton what he deemed his opportunity. It seemed to him to furnish occasion for that reconciliation with Aunt Polly which he saw to be necessary to his plans, and, still more important, it seemed to afford an opportunity for him to withdraw Dorothy from the influence of Dr. Arthur Brent.

Accordingly, as soon as news came to him of the epidemic, and of Arthur Brent’s heroic measures in meeting it, he hurried over to Wyanoke, full of confident plans.

“This is dreadful news, Cousin Polly,” he said, as soon as he had bustled into the house.

“What news, Madison?” answered the old lady. “What have you come to tell me?”

“Oh I mean this dreadful fever outbreak – it is terrible – ”