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I shall come this way again
On some distant morrow
When the red and golden leaves
Have fallen on my sorrow . . . !
I shall come this way again
When this day is rotten
In the grave of yesterdays
And this hour forgotten. . . . !
I shall come this way again
Before the lamp light dies
To comfort you and dry the tear
Of penance from your eyes. . . . !
From Caroling Dusk (Harper & Brothers, 1927), edited by Countee Cullen. This poem is in the public domain.
After all and after all
When the song is sung
And swallowed up in silence
It were more real unsung. . . .
After all and after all
When the lips have stirred
Such a little of the thought
Is transmuted in the word. . . . . .
Softly blow lightly
O twilight breeze
Scarcely bend slightly
O silver trees:
Night glides slowly down hill . . down stream
Bringing a myriad star-twinkling dream. . . . .
Softly blow lightly
O twilight breeze
Scarcely bend slightly
She kneeled before me begging
That I should with a prayer
Give her absolution
(How golden was her hair!)
She begged an absolution
While the moments fled
She thought my tears were pity
(My soul her lips were red!)
She begged of me forgiveness