Cosmopolite

- 1880-1966

Not wholly this or that,
But wrought
Of alien bloods am I,
A product of the interplay
Of traveled hearts.
Estranged, yet not estranged, I stand
All comprehending;
From my estate
I view earth’s frail dilemma;
Scion of fused strength am I,
All understanding,
Nor this nor that
Contains me.

More by Georgia Douglas Johnson

Old Black Men

They have dreamed as young men dream
     Of glory, love and power;
They have hoped as youth will hope
     Of life’s sun-minted hour.

They have seen as other saw
     Their bubbles burst in air,
And they have learned to live it down
     As though they did not care.

The Heart of a Woman

The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn,
As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on,
Afar o'er life's turrets and vales does it roam
In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home.

The heart of a woman falls back with the night,
And enters some alien cage in its plight,
And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars
While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.

I Want to Die While You Love Me

I want to die while you love me,  
  While yet you hold me fair,  
While laughter lies upon my lips  
  And lights are in my hair.  
  
I want to die while you love me,         
  And bear to that still bed,  
Your kisses turbulent, unspent  
  To warm me when I’m dead.  
  
I want to die while you love me  
  Oh, who would care to live         
Till love has nothing more to ask  
  And nothing more to give?  
  
I want to die while you love me  
  And never, never see  
The glory of this perfect day       
  Grow dim or cease to be!

Related Poems

Sympathy

As one within a moated tower,	
    I lived my life alone;	
And dreamed not other granges’ dower,	
    Nor ways unlike mine own.	
I thought I loved. But all alone
    As one within a moated tower	
I lived. Nor truly knew	
    One other mortal fortune’s hour.	
As one within a moated tower,	
    One fate alone I knew.
Who hears afar the break of day	
    Before the silvered air	
Reveals her hooded presence gray,	
    And she, herself, is there?	
I know not how, but now I see
    The road, the plain, the pluming tree,	
The carter on the wain.	
    On my horizon wakes a star.	
The distant hillsides wrinkled far	
    Fold many hearts’ domain.
On one the fire-worn forests sweep,	
    Above a purple mountain-keep	
And soar to domes of snow.	
    One heart has swarded fountains deep	
Where water-lilies blow:
    And one, a cheerful house and yard,	
With curtains at the pane,	
    Board-walks down lawns all clover-starred,	
And full-fold fields of grain.	
    As one within a moated tower
I lived my life alone;	
    And dreamed not other granges’ dower	
Nor ways unlike mine own.	
    But now the salt-chased seas uncurled	
And mountains trooped with pine
    Are mine. I look on all the world	
And all the world is mine.