Never Love With All Your Heart, It

Yet Do I Marvel At This Curious Thing:/ To Make A Poet Black, And Bid Him Sing!

We Shall Not Always Plant While Others Reap

Quaint, Outlandish Heathen Gods Black Men Fashion Out Of Rods

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.

Father, Son, And Holy Ghost, So I Make An Idle Boast; Jesus Of The Twice-turned Cheek Lamb Of God, Although I Speak With My Mouth Thus, In My Heart Do I Play A Double Part.