SCULPTURED WORSHIP

by: William Stanley Braithwaite (1878-1962)

      HE zones of warmth around his heart,
      No alien airs had crossed;
      But he awoke one morn to feel
      The magic numbness of autumnal frost.
       
      His thoughts were a loose skein of threads,
      And tangled emotions, vague and dim;
      And sacrificing what he loved
      He lost the dearest part of him.
       
      In sculptured worship now he lives,
      His one desire a prisoned ache;
      If he can never melt again
      His very heart will break.

"Sculptured Worship" is reprinted from The Book of American Negro Poetry. Ed. James Weldon Johnson. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1922

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