Category: The Souls of Black Folk

Careless seems the great Avenger; History’s lessons but record One death-grapple in the darkness ‘Twixt old systems and the Word; Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne; Yet that scaffold sways the future, And behind the dim … Read the rest

O water, voice of my heart, crying in the sand, All night long crying with a mournful cry, As I lie and listen, and cannot understand The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea, … Read the rest

Herein lie buried many things which if read with patience may show the strange meaning of being black here at the dawning of the Twentieth Century. This meaning is not without interest to you, Gentle Reader; for the problem of … Read the rest

Then from the Dawn it seemed there came, but faint As from beyond the limit of the world, Like the last echo born of a great cry, Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice Around a king returning … Read the rest

O sister, sister, thy first-begotten, The hands that cling and the feet that follow, The voice of the child’s blood crying yet, WHO HATH REMEMBERED ME? WHO HATH FORGOTTEN? Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, But the world shall end … Read the rest

Dim face of Beauty haunting all the world, Fair face of Beauty all too fair to see, Where the lost stars adown the heavens are hurled,— There, there alone for thee May white peace be. Beauty, sad face of Beauty, … Read the rest

Life treads on life, and heart on heart; We press too close in church and mart To keep a dream or grave apart. MRS. BROWNING.

The world-old phenomenon of the contact of diverse races of men is to have new … Read the rest

But the Brute said in his breast, “Till the mills I grind have ceased, The riches shall be dust of dust, dry ashes be the feast! “On the strong and cunning few Cynic favors I will strew; I will stuff … Read the rest

I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, As the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. Look not upon me, because I am black, Because the sun hath looked upon me: My mother’s children were angry … Read the rest

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were’t not a Shame—were’t not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide? OMAR KHAYYAM (FITZGERALD).

From the shimmering swirl … Read the rest