I Cut My Teeth As The Black

The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible Thing; They Lie Who Say That Death Is Worse.

I Have A Rendezvous With Life.

The Night Whose Sable Breast Relieves The Stark, White Stars, Is No Less Lovely Being Dark

Not For Myself I Make This Prayer, But For This Race Of Mine That Stretches Forth From Shadowed Places Dark Hands For Bread And Wine.

[w]e Have Always Resented The Natural Inclination Of Most White People To Demand Spirituals The Moment It Is Known That A Negro Is About To Sing. So Often The Request Has Seemed To Savor Of The Feeling That We Could Do This And This Alone.