How like the restless beating 
Of our hearts
Is the surge of the sea; 
How like the tumult
Of our souls
Is the lashing of the storm; 
How like the yearning
In our song
Is the wind,
How like a prayer
Is night.

My thoughts soared up
To the starless sky
And a cloud
Passed over the face
Of the yellow moon.
My thoughts
Are the clouds that hide
The face of the moon,
And yours are
The night wind
That blows away the ugly
Moon clouds.

My words shall drip 
Like molten lava
From the towering black volcano,
On the sleeping town 
’Neath its summit. 
My thoughts shall be
Hot ashes
Burning all in its path.

I shall not stop
Because critics sneer,
Nor stoop to fawning
At man’s mere fancy.

I shall breathe
A clearer freer air
For I shall see the sun
Above the crowd.

I shall not blush
And make excuse
When a son of Adam,
Who calls himself 
“God’s Layman,”
Slashes with scorn
A thing born from
Truth’s womb and nursed
By beauty. It will not
Matter who stoops
To cast the first stone.
Does not my spirit
Soar above these feeble 
Minds? thoughts born 
From prejudice’s womb 
And nursed by tradition?

I will shatter the wall 
Of darkness that rises
From gleaming day
And seeks to hide the sun.
I will turn this wall of
Darkness (that is night)
Into a thing of beauty.

I will take from the hearts
Of black men—
Prayers their lips
Are ’fraid to utter.
And turn their coarseness
Into a beauty of the jungle
Whence they came.

The lava from the black volcano
Shall be words—the ashes—thoughts
Of all men.

I used to sit on a high green hill
And long for you to be like the clouds,
Soft and white……..
And your eyes be like heaven’s blue
And your hair like the tree sifted sun……..
But then I was young, and my eyes yet
Round with wonder.
Now I sit by an endless road and watch
As you come……..swiftly like dusk
Your hair like a starless night
Your eyes like deep violet shadows,
And soft arms cradle me on your sweet
Brown breast……..for I have grown old
And my eyes hold unshed tears,
And my face is lean and hard in daylight’s 
Mocking glare.
But with the night
Dusk fingers and lips like dew
Erase each wound of time
And my eyes grow round with wonder
At your beauty.