Wednesday, July 26, 2017

America by Claude McKay

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, 
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth, 
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess 
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth. 
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood, 
Giving me strength erect against her hate, 
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood. 
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state, 
I stand within her walls with not a shred 
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer. 
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead, 
And see her might and granite wonders there, 
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand, 
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.


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