Arna Bontemps quotes

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Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields
My brother's sons are gathering stalk and root,
Go through the gates with closed eyes.
Stand erect and let your black face front the west.
God suffer little men
The taste of soul's desire.
Give blue-eyed men their swivel chairs
To whirl in tall buildings.
Do our black faces search the empty sky?
There will be better days when I am gone
And healing pools where I cannot be healed.
There is something I have forgotten, some precious thing.
I shall be seeking ornaments of ivory,
There is a sound of music echoing
Through the open door
Yet would we die as some have done:
Beating a way for the rising sun.
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