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Countee Cullen. 1903 –. 1946. Love, leave me like the light, The gently passing day; We would not know, but for the night, When it has slipped away. So many hopes have fled, Have left me but the name.
- Dead Fires
If this is peace, this dead and leaden thing, Then better...
- Dead Fires
Never love with all your soul, for such there is no ending; though a mind that frets may find control, and a shattered heart find mending. Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some undercover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed, and find another lover.
- Any Human to Another. In Countee Cullen’s poem, ‘Any Human to Another,’ the speaker describes how essential human interaction is. He also reveals how one person suffering affects everyone.
- Atlantic City Waiter. ‘Atlantic City Waiter’ by Countee Cullen is a deeply thoughtful poem. In it, Cullen describes the actions, strength, and pride of an Atlantic City waiter.
- From the Dark Tower. ‘From the Dark Tower’ by Countee Cullen is a thoughtful poem about the Black experience. It suggests that there is a brighter future on the horizon.
- Incident. ‘Incident’ by Countee Cullen describes a terrible incident from the poet’s youth that occurred when he was happily visiting Baltimore. Once riding in old Baltimore,
Countee Cullen was a significant figure of the Harlem Renaissance, a period of extraordinary artistic and intellectual flourishing among Black Americans in the 1920s and 1930s. He is primarily known for his poetry, which often explores themes of race, identity, love, and faith.
Source: My Soul’s High Song: The Collected Writings of Countee Cullen (Anchor Books, 1991) Poems, readings, poetry news and the entire 110-year archive of POETRY magazine.
At Spring Time*. Countee Cullen. 1903 –. 1946. (For Carl Van Vechten) I cannot hold my peace, John Keats; There never was a spring like this; It is an echo, that repeats. My last year's song and next year's bliss.
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Goading massive jungle herds, Juggernauts of flesh that pass. Trampling tall defiant grass. Where young forest lovers lie, Plighting troth beneath the sky. So I lie, who always hear, Though I cram against my ear. Both my thumbs, and keep them there, Great drums throbbing through the air.
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