I know not why or whence he came Or how he chanced to go; I only know he brought me love, And going, left me woe. I do not ask that he turn back

I’m a-waiting and a-watching for t… For the sun that’s ever shining, f… For the light that casts no shadow… For the rose that’s ever blooming… I’m a-waiting and a watching for t…

Were you to come, With your clear, gray eyes As calmly placid as, in summer’s h… At noontide lie the sultry skies; With your dark, brown hair

I am so tired and weary, So tired of the endless fight, So weary of waiting the dawn And finding endless night. That I ask but rest and quiet—

Brother, come! And let us go unto our God. And when we stand before Him I shall say— “Lord, I do not hate,

And Thou art One—One with th’ et… And with the flaming stars, and wi… Translucent, cold. The sentinel o… That clothes the sky in robes of l… The earth with warmth, the floweri…

Ashamed of my race? And of what race an I? I am many in one. Thru my veins runs the blood Of Red Man, Black Man, Briton,…

Peace to his ashes! I cannot for the soul of me Sorrowing bow, Tho I search through the heart of… Grieve for him now.

There is naught in the pathless re… Of the pale, blue sky above, There is naught that the stars tel… As over the heavens they rove; That I have not felt, or have not…

The band of Gideon roam the sky, The howling wind is their war-cry, The thunder roll is their trump’s… And the lightning flash their veng… Each black cloud

O why are there eyes like these, That sparkle and dapple and tease, So wide with the morning, so deep… Dancing and gleaming in passioned… O why are there eyes like these?

Forget? Ah, never! Your eyes, your voice, your lips. Those little ways of love, Half-childish yet all-wise

Why do men smile when I speak, And call my speech The whimperings of a babe That cries but knows not what it w… Is it because I am black?

They shall go down unto Life’s Bo… Walk unafraid within that Living… Nor heed the driving rain of shot… That 'round them falls; but with u… Be one with mighty hosts, an arméd…

Old November, sere and brown, Clothes the country, haunts the to… Sheds its cloak of withered leaves… Brings its sighing, soughing breez… Prophet of the dying year,