So I lie, whose fount of pride, Dear distress, and joy allied,
Is my somber flesh and skin,
With the dark blood dammed within.
On These I Stand, Heritage, Stanza 2 (1925)
She even thinks that up in heaven
Her class lies late and snores
While poor black cherubs rise at seven
To do celestial chores.
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?
Ever at Thy glowing altar
Must my heart grow sick and falter,
Wishing He I served were black.
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.
What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang?Countee Cullen