by: William Stanley Braithwaite
- 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.
MORE POEMS BY WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE
"Sculptured Worship" is
reprinted from The Book of American Negro Poetry. Ed.
James Weldon Johnson. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1922