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Paul Laurence Dunbar - A Summer Pastoral
Work rating: Low

It`s hot to-day. The bees is buzzin`
    Kinder don`t-keer-like aroun`
  An` fur off the warm air dances
    O`er the parchin` roofs in town.
  In the brook the cows is standin`;
    Childern hidin` in the hay;
  Can`t keep none of `em a workin`,
    `Cause it`s hot to-day.

  It`s hot to-day. The sun is blazin`
     Like a great big ball o` fire;
  Seems as ef instead o` settin`
    It keeps mountin` higher an` higher.
  I`m as triflin` as the children,
    Though I blame them lots an` scold;
  I keep slippin` to the spring-house,
    Where the milk is rich an` cold.

  The very air within its shadder
    Smells o` cool an` restful things,
  An` a roguish little robin
    Sits above the place an` sings.
  I don`t mean to be a shirkin`,
    But I linger by the way
  Longer, mebbe, than is needful,
  `Cause it`s hot to-day.

  It`s hot to-day. The horses stumble
    Half asleep across the fiel`s;
  An` a host o` teasin` fancies
    O`er my burnin` senses steals,--
  Dreams o` cool rooms, curtains lowered,
    An` a sofy`s temptin` look;
  Patter o` composin` raindrops
    Or the ripple of a brook.

  I strike a stump! That wakes me sudden;
    Dreams all vanish into air.
  Lordy! how I chew my whiskers;
    `Twouldn`t do fur me to swear.
  But I have to be so keerful
    `Bout my thoughts an` what I say;
  Somethin` might slip out unheeded,
    `Cause it`s hot to-day.

  Git up, there, Suke! you, Sal, git over!
    Sakes alive! how I do sweat.
  Every stitch that I`ve got on me,
  Bet a cent, is wringin` wet.
  If this keeps up, I`ll lose my temper.
    Gee there, Sal, you lazy brute!
  Wonder who on airth this weather
    Could `a` be`n got up to suit?

  You, Sam, go bring a tin o` water;
    Dash it all, don`t be so slow!
  `Pears as ef you tuk an hour
    `Tween each step to stop an` blow.
  Think I want to stand a meltin`
    Out here in this b`ilin` sun,
  While you stop to think about it?
    Lift them feet o` your`n an` run.

  It ain`t no use; I`m plumb fetaggled.
    Come an` put this team away.
  I won`t plow another furrer;
    It`s too mortal hot to-day.
  I ain`t weak, nor I ain`t lazy,
    But I`ll stand this half day`s loss
  `Fore I let the devil make me
    Lose my patience an` git cross.
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