There was something in me grieves That was never born, and died.
There was something in me grieves That was never born, and died.
Negro poetic expression hovers for the moment, pardonably perhaps, over the race problem, but its highest allegiance is to Poetry it must soar.
Here is the earth resurgent with color and bloom of Spring, Glorying the dream and the vision in the song you bring.
I am glad daylong for the gift of song, For time and change and sorrow; For the sunset wings and the world-end things; Which hang on the edge of tomorrow.
Art alone has kept her covenant with democracy.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories