Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till

I Was Reared In The Conservative Atmosphere Of A Methodist Parsonage.

Give But A Grain Of The Heart's Rich Seed, Confine Some Under Cover, And When Love Goes, Bid Him God-speed. And Find Another Lover.

Ever At Thy Glowing Altar Must My Heart Grow Sick And Falter, Wishing He I Served Were Black.

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.

For We Must Be One Thing Or The Other, An Asset Or A Liability, The Sinew In Your Wing To Help You Soar, Or The Chain To Bind You To Earth.