We Shall Not Always Plant While Others

If I Am Going To Be A Poet At All, I Am Going To Be Poet And Not Negro Poet.

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.

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

What Is Last Year's Snow To Me, Last Year's Anything? The Tree Budding Yearly Must Forget How Its Past Arose Or Set

The Key To All Strange Things Is In Thy Heart..../ My Spirit Has Come Home, That Sailed The Doubtful Seas.