Some day, when trees have shed their leaves …
Claude McKay
Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, …
Last night I heard your voice, mother, …
I hear the halting footsteps of a lass …
If we must die, let it not be like hogs …
There is joy in the woods just now, …
About me young careless feet …
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, …
Far down, down through the city’s great gaunt gut …
His spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven. …
I …
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root, …
I will not toy with it nor bend an inch. …
At first you'll joy to see the playful snow, …