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african american poetry

up from the meadows rich with corn
pushing out, struggling vainly
i love my hour of wind and light
friend, whose smile has come to be
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i saw him once before
high-born race
we break the glass whose sacred wine
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
a life on the ocean wave
she burst fierce wine

 



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