Additional Poems By Arna Bontemps Essay Research

Extra Poems By Arna Bontemps Essay, Research Paper

God Give to Men

God give the xanthous adult male

an easy zephyr at blossom clip.

Allow his tidal bore, slanting eyes to cover

every land and dream

of afterwhile.

Give fair-haired work forces their swivel chairs

to twirl in tall edifices.

Let them many ships at sea,

and on land, soldiers

and police officers.

For black adult male, God,

no demand to trouble oneself more

but merely make full afresh his meed

of laughter,

his cup of cryings.

God suffer small work forces

the gustatory sensation of psyche & # 8217 ; s desire.

Nocturne of the Piers

All dark they whine upon their ropes and roar

against the dock with incapacitated bows:

these small ships that are excessively worn for sailing

look the pier but do non rest at all.

Tuging at the dim grey pier they think

no uncertainty of China and of bright Bombay,

and they remember islands of the East,

Formosa and the mountains of Japan.

They think of metropoliss ruined by the sea

and they are ungratified, kiping at the pier.

Tuging at the dim grey pier they think

no less of Africa. An east air current blows

and salt spray swe

eps the unattended decks.

Shouts of dead work forces break upon the dark.

The captain calls his crew and they respond & # 8211 ;

the small ships are woolgathering & # 8211 ; land is near.

But mist comes up to dip the Cu seashore,

mist dissembles images of the trees.

The captain and his work forces likewise are lost

and their cries go down in the lifting sound of moving ridges.

Ah small ships, I know your fatigue!

I know the sea-green shadows of your dream.

For I have loved the metropoliss of the sea,

and devastations of the old yearss I

have loved: I was a roamer like you

and I have broken down before the wind.Reconnaissance

After the cloud embankments,

the plaint of air current

and the starry descent into clip,

we came to the flashing Waterss and shaded our eyes

from the blaze.

Entirely with the shore and the seaport,

the root of the coconut trees,

the fronds of silence and muted music,

we cried for the new disclosure

and waited for miracles to lift.

Where elements touch and merge,

where shadows faint like castawaies on the sand

and the tested minute delaies, its bravery gone & # 8211 ;

there were we

in latitudes where storms are born.