He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, ‘I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black.’
But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek,
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone.
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‘Lord, being dark,’ I said, ‘I cannot bear
Lord, being dark, forewilled to that despairMy color shrouds me in, I am as dirtBeneath my brother’s heel; there is a hurtIn all the simple joys which to a childAre sweet; they are contaminate, defiledBy truths of wrongs the childish vision failsTo see; too great a cost this birth entails.I strangle in this yoke drawn…
They in their cruel traps, and we in ours,
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I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind
The little buried mole continues blind,Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,Make plain the reason tortured TantalusIs baited by the fickle fruit, declareIf merely brute caprice dooms SisyphusTo struggle up a never-ending stair.Inscrutable His ways are, and immuneTo catechism by a mind too strewnWith petty cares to slightly understandWhat awful brain compels His…
Locked arm in arm they cross the way
The golden splendor of the dayThe sable pride of night.From lowered blinds the dark folk stareAnd here the fair folk talk,Indignant that these two should dareIn unison to walk.Oblivious to look and wordThey pass, and see no wonderThat lightning brilliant as a swordShould blaze the path of thunder.
The many sow, but only the chosen reap;
That with the cool oblivion of sleepA dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief.If from the soil our sweat enriches sproutOne meagre blossom for our hands to cull,Accustomed indigence provokes a shoutOf praise that life becomes so bountiful.Now ushered regally into your own,Look where you will, as far as eye can see,Your little seeds…