Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes

I Doubt Not God Is Good, Well-meaning, Kind

What Is Africa To Me: Copper Sun Or Scarlet Sea, Jungle Star Or Jungle Track, Strong Bronzed Men, Or Regal Black Women From Whose Loins I Sprang When The Birds Of Eden Sang?

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

My Poetry Has Become The Way Of My Giving Out What Music Is Within Me.

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