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I return the bitterness,
Which you gave to me;
When I wanted loveliness
Tantalant and free.
I return the bitterness
It is washed by tears;
Now it is a loveliness
Garnished through the years.
I return it loveliness,
Having made it so;
For I wore the bitterness
From it long ago.
From Caroling Dusk (Harper & Brothers, 1927), edited by Countee Cullen. This poem is in the public domain.
The sky hangs heavy tonight
Like the hair of a Negro woman.
The scars of the moon are curved
Like the wrinkles on the brow of a Negro woman.
The stars twinkle tonight
Like the glaze in a Negro woman’s eyes,
Drinking the tears set flowing by an aging hurt
Gnawing at her heart.
Thou art not dead, although the spoiler’s hand
Lies heavy as death upon thee; though the wrath
Of its accursed might is in thy path
And has usurped thy children of their land;
Though yet the scourges of a monstrous band
Roam on thy ruined fields, thy trampled lanes,
Thy ravaged homes and desolated fanes;
The day is a Negro
Yelling out of breath.
The night is a Negro
Laughing up to death.
The day is a jazz band
Blasting loud and wild.
The night is a jazz band
Moaning Blues songs, child.
The day is the sunshine