Poems

Find and share the perfect poems.

For an Anarchist

1903 –

1946

What matters that I stormed and swore?
Not Samson with an ass's jaw,
Not though a forest of hair he wore,
Could break death's adamantine law.

This poem is in the public domain.

^{(For Carl Van Vechten)}

Countee Cullen

1925

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue and called me, “Nigger.”

Countee Cullen

1927

1
For my Grandmother

This lovely flower fell to seed;
Work gently sun and rain;
She held it as her dying creed
That she would grow again.

2
For John Keats, Apostle of Beauty

Countee Cullen

1927