Oh, de ole plantation landin',
  On de Mississipi sho',
'Pears es if seed ole massa
  Standin' waitin' dar once mo'--
Back aways to whar de cabin's
  Almos' hid by lilac trees--
Seems es ef I h'yard po' missus
  Singin' old-time melodies.

Hollyhocks en honeysuckles
  Grow en bloom along de way,
Leadin' up dar to de cabin;
  But de ole folks, whar are dey?
An' de winin' path a-leadin'
  Roun' de house; sometimes, a spell,
Seems es ef I h'yard de win'less
  H'istin' watah f'om de well.

Cap'n, kain yo' stop de boat, sah?
  Stop de boat, kase well I kno
I has done gone down dis rivah
  'Bout es far's hi keah ter go.
You kin lan' me soon's yo's ready,
  En I 'low I'll fin' mah way
Back to dat ole shattah'd homestead
  Whar de sun shines froo to-day.

Massa Lincoln's gunboats let' it
  Jais dat way in sixty-three;
Cose dey did some monsus damage,
  But dey set us dahkies free.
How I 'membah po' ole missus
  Standin' n'yah de cabin do'
En she say: "Yo' gwine off, 'Rasmus?
  Ain' yo' gwine come back no mo'?"

Den I sade: "Not zackly, missus;
  Somepin's done ketched ontah me.
Dar's a big stampede ob darkies
  From Kaintuck en Tennessee.
When de boat comes up de ribbah
  Wistlin' 'roun' de lower bow
I mus' leebe ole plantation--
  Yas, must say good-bye en go."

Massa so't o' bowed his haid, sah,
  Sittin' in 'is ole-ahm-chair;
Missus, standin' on de do'step
  Caught de sunlight in her hair;
An' de breezes from de orchard
  'Peared to rustle froo de trees,
En I h'yard old Judy weepin'
  Wid de chillun 'roun' her knees.

Tale yo' I was mighty sad, sah,
  But I sort o' walked away.
Years en years ago it was, sah;
  Now I'se wanderin' back to-day.
'Deed I'se lookin' back en gazin'
  Mos'ly now each side de stream.
Lan'marks gittin' mighty natch'l,
  'Clar hit 'pears jais like a dream.
Dar's de place! Dat's hit, dar, cap'n,
  Dis yere side de ole ho'n bow;
'Low yo' need n't stop de steamah;
  Jais slack up a leetle--slow.
  *     *     *     *     *
Dar's de same ole steps a-climbin'
  F'om de landin' to de hill.
Lan' ob goodness! Ef de bushes
  Ain't a-growin' thickah still.

In de lan' ob de forgotten;
  Not a soul along de hill;
Not a voice to wake yo' gladness;
  Everything do 'pear so still;
Not an echo to a footstep;
  Not an ansah to a call
'Sep' a mockin'-bird a-singin'
  To de lonesomeness--dat's all.