WELT
by: Georgia Douglas Johnson
(1886-1966)
 OULD I might
mend the fabric of my youth
That daily flaunts its tatters to my eyes,
Would I might compromise awhile with truth
Until our moon now waxing, wanes and dies.
-
- For I would go a further while with you,
And drain this cup so tantalant and fair
Which meets my parched lips like cooling dew,
Ere time has brushed cold fingers thru my hair!
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"Welt" is reprinted from
The Book of American Negro Poetry. Ed. James Weldon Johnson.
New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1922. |
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POEMS BY GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |
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