Y'ought to hyeah dat gal a-warblin' Robins, la'ks an' all dem things Heish de mouffs an' hides dey faces When Malindy sings.

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in. A minute to smile and an hour to weep in. A pint of joy to a peck of trouble, And never a laugh but the moans come double. And that is life. A crust and a corner that makes love precious, With a smile to warm and tears to refresh us, And joy seems sweeter when cares come after, And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter. And that is life.

روح روز تابستانی و
نفسِ گل سرخی،
تابستان اما سپری شده است و
موسم گل‌ به آخر رسیده است

کجا رفته‌اند؟
که می‌داند، که می‌داند.

خون قلب منی و
جان آرامشی.
قلب من امّا سرد است و
جانم به سیاهی در نشسته است.

کجایی تو ای یار؟
که می‌داند، که می‌داند.

امید سالیان منی و
آفتاب برف‌های زمستانم.
سال‌ها اما
زیر آسمانی ابر اندود به پایان رسیده است.

کجا یکدیگر را باز خواهیم یافت؟
که می‌داند، که می‌داند

[In Is Higher Education for the Negro Hopeless? Dunbar responds to an essay in which Charles Dudley Warner, a white writer, contended blacks were better suited for industrial training, not higher learning. Dismissing Warner as] one who speaks without authority, ... I believe I know my own people pretty thoroughly. I know them all classes, the high and the low, and have yet to see any young man or young woman who had the spirit of work in them before, driven from labor by a college education.

I simply came to the conclusion that I could write [dialect poetry] as well, if not better, than anybody else I knew of, ... and that by doing so I should gain a hearing. I gained the hearing, and now they don't want me to write anything but dialect.

I didn't start as a dialect poet, ... talked again and again about poetry.