Tell Me, And Then Again Show Me,

I Note That The Africa Loves To Depict The Grace Of Reptiles.

I Am Colored But I Offer Nothing In The Way Of Extenuating Circumstances Except The Fact That I Am The Only Negro In The United States Whose Grandfather On The Mother's Side Was Not An Indian Chief.

Ships At A Distance Have Every Man's Wish On Board. For Some They Come In With The Tide. For Others They Sail Forever On The Same Horizon, Never Out Of Sight, Never Landing Until The Watcher Turns His Eyes Away In Resignation, His Dreams Mocked To Death By Time. That Is The Life Of Men. Now, Women Forget All Those Things They Don't Want To Remember, And Remember Everything They Don't Want To Forget. The Dream Is The Truth. Then They Act And Do Things Accordingly.

She's Got Those Big Black Eyes With Plenty Shiny White In Them That Makes Them Shine Like Brand New Money And She Knows What God Gave Women Eyelashes For, Too. Her Hair Is Not What You Might Call Straight. It's Negro Hair, But It's Got A Kind Of White Flavor. Like The Piece Of String Out Of A Ham. It's Not Ham At All, But It's Been Around Ham And Got The Flavor.

I Am Not Tragically Colored. There Is No Great Sorrow Dammed Up In My Soul, Nor Lurking Behind My Eyes. I Do Not Mind At All. I Do Not Belong To The Sobbing School Of Negrohood Who Hold That Nature Somehow Has Given Them A Lowdown Dirty Deal And Whose Feelings Are All Hurt About It. Even In The Helter-skelter Skirmish That Is My Life, I Have Seen That The World Is To The Strong Regardless Of A Little Pigmentation More Or Less. No, I Do Not Weep At The World—i Am Too Busy Sharpening My Oyster Knife.