I like to hear of wealth and gold,
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Because you love me I have much achieved,
WHO dat knockin' at de do'?
It may be misery not to sing at all,
Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,
It's all a farce,—these tales they tell
Come to the pane, draw the curtain apart,
The Oriole sings in the greening grove
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!