I have no will to weep or sing,
No least desire to pray or curse;
The loss of love is a terrible thing;
They lie who say that death is worse.
If You Should Go
Love, leave me like the light,
The gently passing day;
We would not know, but for the night,
When it has slipped away.
Go quietly; a dream,
When done, should leave no trace
That it has lived, except a gleam
Across the dreamer's face.
And if I please you so, my lover,
Remember praise is comely.
Mots clés praise
My poetry, I think, has become the way of my giving out what music is within me
Countee CullenPage 1 de 1.
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