One of Dunbar's poems found its way into this thread , but I think his poetry is worth its own thread, particularly since many of his poems deal with music.

For those who may not know, Dunbar was the son of former slaves and considered "the first African-American to gain national eminence as a poet" You can learn more about him, read and hear some of his poems here .

If you don't get too distracted by the dialect, the following are real gems.

ANGELINA
When de fiddle gits to singin' out a ol' Vahginny reel,
An' you 'mence to feel a ticklin' in yo' toe an' in yo' heel;
Ef you t'ink you got 'uligion an' you wants to keep it, too,
You jes' bettah tek a hint an' get yo'self clean out o'view.
Case de time is mighty temptin' when de chune is in de swing,
Fu' a darky, saint or sinner man, to cut de pigeon wing.
An' you couldn't he'p f'om dancin' ef yo' feet was boun' wif twine,
When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.

Don't you know Miss Angelina? She's de da'lin' of de place.
W'y dey ain't no high-toned lady wif sich mannahs an' sich grace.
She kin move across de cabin, wif its planks all rough and wo';
Jes' de same's ef she was dancin' on ol' mistus' ball-room flo'.
Fact is, you do' see no cabin—evaht'ing you see look grand,
An' dat one ol' squeaky fiddle soun' to you jes' lak a ban';
Cotton britches look lak broadclof an' a linsey dress look fine,
When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.

Some folks say dat dancin's sinful an' de blessed Lawd, dey say,
Gwine to punish us fu' steppin' w'en we hyeah de music play.
But I tell you I don' b'lieve it, fu' de Lawd is wise and good,
An' he made de banjo's metal an' he made de fiddle's wood,
An' he made de music in dem, so I don' quite t'ink he'll keer
Ef our feet keeps time a little to de melodies we hyeah.
W'y dey's somep'n downright holy in de way our faces shine,
When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.

Angelina steps so gentle, Angelina bows so low,
An' she lif' huh sku't so dainty dat huh shoetop skacely show;
An' dem teef o' hu'n a-shinin', ez she tek you by de han'—
Go 'way, people, d' ain't anothah sich a lady in de lan'!
When she's movin' thoo de figgers er a-dancin' by huhse'f,
Folks jes' stan' stock-still a-sta'in', and dey mos' nigh hol's dey bref.
An' de young mens, dey's a-sayin', "I's gwine mek dat damsel mine,"
When Angelina Johnson comes a-swingin' down de line.

........

WHEN MALINDY SINGS
G'WAY an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy --
          Put dat music book away;
What's de use to keep on tryin'?
          Ef you practise twell you're gray,
You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'
          Lak de ones dat rants and rings
F'om de kitchen to be big woods
          When Malindy sings.

You ain't got de nachel o'gans
          Fu' to make de soun' come right,
You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's
          Fu' to make it sweet an' light.
Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
          An' I'm tellin' you fu' true,
When hit comes to raal right singin',
          'T ain't no easy thing to do.

Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,
          Lookin' at de lines an' dots,
When dey ain't no one kin sence it,
          An' de chune comes in, in spots;
But fu' real melojous music,
          Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,
Jes' you stan' an' listen wif me
          When Malindy sings.

Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?
          Blessed soul, tek up de cross!
Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?
          Well, you don't know whut you los'.
Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',
          Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,
Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces
          When Malindy sings.

Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',
          Lay his fiddle on de she'f;
Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,
          'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.
Folks a-playin' on de banjo
          Draps dey fingahs on de strings--
Bless yo' soul--fu'gits to move em,
          When Malindy sings.

She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,
          "Come to Jesus," twell you hyeah
Sinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,
          Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;
Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"
          Simply to de cross she clings,
An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'
          When Malindy sings.

Who dat says dat humble praises
          Wif de Master nevah counts?
Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,
          Ez hit rises up an' mounts--
Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,
          Way above dis buryin' sod,
Ez hit makes its way in glory
          To de very gates of God!

Oh, hit's sweetah dan de music
          Of an edicated band;
An' hit's dearah dan de battle's
          Song o' triumph in de lan'.
It seems holier dan evenin'
          When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,
Ez I sit an' ca'mly listen
          While Malindy sings.

Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!
          Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;
Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'
          F'om de valley to de hill?
Let me listen, I can hyeah it,
          Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,
Sof' an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"
          Ez Malindy sings.