Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
UP! SING THE SONG
I am a Negro, but I sing and sing,
Burning with kiss divine that made me so.
O brother mortal, likest to the snow,
Turn not in coldness from the song I bring,
But listen to my lyre's low murmuring,
Where down the cypresses I sadly go,
Through deepening twilight, lest the faint winds know
The secret of some tender little thing
That haunts and haunts me, and they tell it all-
All, all my sorrows and ambitions, too!
For these o'ercome me; these, through dreamy fall,
Keep calling, calling; beckoning, as to you:
"Up! Sing the song! Men shall forget your race,
Nor blush to keep the image of your face."
Written by James D. Corrothers (1869-1917)
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