Harlem Wine
This is not water running here,
These thick rebellious
That hurtle flesh and bone past
Down alleyways of
This is not water running here,
These thick rebellious
That hurtle flesh and bone past
Down alleyways of
He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came
Born of the sorrowful of
Mirth was a crown upon his head;
Pride kept his twisted lips
In jest, to hide a heart that bled
Locked arm in arm they cross the
The black boy and the white,
The golden splendor of the
The sable pride of night
I have a rendezvous with Life,
In days I hope will come,
Ere youth has sped, and strength of mind,
Ere voices sweet grow dumb
All through an empty place I go,
And find her not in any room;
The candles and the lamps I
Go down before a wind of gloom
She even thinks that up in heaven Her class lies late and
While poor black cherubs rise at seven To do celestial chores
Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee;
I saw a
Keep looking straight at me
With two white roses on her breasts,
White candles at head and feet,
Dark Madonna of the grave she rests;
Lord Death has found her sweet
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold;
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;
My father is a quiet
With sober, steady ways;
For simile, a folded fan;
His nights are like his days
She went to buy a brand new hat,
And she was ugly, black, and fat:"This red becomes you well," they said,
And perched it high upon her head
And then they laughed behind her