Poetry

appeal,
You’ve held the ardor of your first ideal,
Robed in a queenly majesty, resigned.

To the Memory of Inez Milholland

Folded in silent veils of sleep,
You calmly rest,
For God hath spoken, should we weep?
He knoweth best.

But rather let us garner still
While yet we may,
And meet you in His Holy Hill
On that Great Day!

To Atlanta University⁠—Its Founders and Teachers

Pass down the aisle of buried years to-night,
And stand uncovered in that holy place
Where noble structures lift their hallowed height
Beneath a bending Heaven’s chaste embrace,
The fruit of those who scorned the path of ease,
To buckle on the armaments of care
Like to the Son of Man Himself, were these
Who gave themselves for brother men⁠—less fair.

Before the blinding footlights of to-day
We man our parts within Life’s tragic play,
Full mindful of the earnest love and care
That keeps eternal watch and vigil there;
Nor do they need fair monuments and scrolls⁠—
Their memories are deathless in our souls.

To Love

Life’s little hour is fleet, so fleet
But love’s is fleeter still,
So let us lift the chalice dear
And drink, and drink until
The shadows lengthen to repose
And fierce desires still,
Then may our souls view tranquilly
The low-light o’er the hill!

Africa

O what a privilege to be⁠—
Breath of The Breath Eternal;
To have the life,
To have the strife
Of that dark mystery
A son of Africa, whose blood
Holds nations all in fee,
Commanding by one sultry drop
The whole identity;
She whispers at the gate of birth
And lo! the rainbow on the earth.

Lesson

I’ve learned of life this bitter truth:
Hope not between the crumbling walls
Of mankind’s gratitude to find repose,
But rather,
Build within thy own soul
Fortresses!

Pilgrimage

Lend me a candle by whose light
I may discern the road
Which winds into that magic path
That leads to love’s abode.

To Your Eyes

In your deep autumnal eyes
Mystery’s dark shadow lies,
None may pass unchallenged there,
Something vestal,
Something rare
Stays the plunging, pagan tread⁠—
One hesitates,
One bows the head.

My Son

Stronger than man-made bars, the chain,
That rounds your life’s arena,
Deeper than hell the anchor sweeps
That stills your young desires;
Darker than night the inward look
That meditation offers,
Redder than blood the future years
Roll down the hills of torture!

But ah! you were not made for this,
And life is but preluding⁠—
The major theme shall hold its sway
When full awake, not dreaming,
Your ebon foot shall press the sod
Where immortelles are blooming;
Beyond the glaze of fevered years
I see⁠—the day is coming!

The Ordeal

Ho: my brother,
Pass me not by so scornfully
I’m doing this living of being black,
Perhaps I bear your own life-pack,
And heavy, heavy is the load
That bends my body to the road.

But I have kept a smile for fate,
I neither cry, nor cringe, nor hate,
Intrepidly, I strive to bear
This handicap: The planets wear
The Maker’s imprint, and with mine
I swing into their rhythmic line;
I ask⁠—only for destiny,
Mine, not thine.

Escape

Shadows, shadows,
Hug me round
So that I shall not be found
By sorrow:
She pursues me
Everywhere,
I can’t lose her
Anywhere.

Fold me in your black
Abyss,
She will never look
In this⁠—
Shadows, shadows,
Hug me round
In your solitude
Profound.

The Riddle

White men’s children spread over the earth⁠—
A rainbow suspending the drawn swords of birth,
Uniting and blending the races in one
The world man⁠—cosmopolite⁠—everyman’s son!

He channels the stream of the red blood and blue,
Behold him! A Triton⁠—the peer of the two;
Unriddle this riddle of “outside in”
White men’s children in black men’s skin.

Soul’s Easter

Something has died when the lily lifts
The shaft of its God-turned head,
Something has faded and perished that now
Lies under the lily’s door dead.

Something has died when the heart exhales
Its attar of roses rare;
Bow at the tomb when the soul leaps forth
A flame on the midnight air!

Friendship

Last night you lost the rarest thing
Life ever gave to you.
It was a friendship that was deep,
Unvarying and true.

I’m sorry that you have it not
Because you need it so;
When one has killed the flower’s root
How can it ever grow?

Toy

You deck my doby lavishly,
I’m sleek and overfed;
And yet my soul is perishing,
Denied of daily bread.

You make a plaything of my life,
My every trust betray,
And when I would be penitent,
You kiss my prayers away.

Promise

If you can laugh along the road,
Although you bend beneath a load
Of sorrow,
Your hope-lit eyes shall surely see
A rainbow sweep eternity
Tomorrow.

Prejudice

The world is dark,
I cannot see my way!
Eternal clouds
Obscure the light of day⁠—
I seek a break, a rift, a little space,
There to behold
One God-illumined place!

Companion

No, never quite alone am I.
Of ill why should I borrow?
No matter where my footsteps bend
There also follows sorrow.

And she has taught my lips to sing
A rapt and dauntless measure
While all the world goes envying
My mellow noted treasure.

No, I have never walked alone!
And as I face tomorrow,
If I am bereft of joy
I know there will be sorrow.

Lethe

I do not ask for love⁠—ah! no,
Nor friendship’s happiness,
These were relinquished long ago
I search for something less.

I seek a little, tranquil bark
In which to drift at ease
Awhile, and then quite silently
To sink in quiet seas.

Decay

Swift-footed Time, how eagerly you go
Across the swaying summer grasses bed
As on in breathless haste you hurry me
To Winter with its chilling winds and snow.

The noontide hour is fading⁠—in my hair
The furtive shadows caper and recline.
I tell my beads of amethyst and gold
So near at end, so passing dear and fair.

The True American

America, here is your son, born of your iron heel,
Black blood and red and white contend along this frame of steel.
The thorns deep in his brow are set and yet he does not cower,
He goes with neither fears nor tears to crucifixion hour.
Nor yet does hatred blur his view of mankind’s frail parade,
From his commanding triple coign, all prejudices fade.
The ebbing nations coalesce in