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african american poetry

i saw god. do you doubt it?
the meadow was creeping
softly weeping
with the meek, brown eyes
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
sun and wind and beat of sea
never in all my life
to the passionate lover
lived by the river-side
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
my true love from her pillow rose
gloom
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray

 



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