For We Must Be One

What Is Africa To Me: Copper Sun Or Scarlet Sea, Jungle Star Or Jungle Track, Strong Bronzed Men, Or Regal Black Women From Whose Loins I Sprang When The Birds Of Eden Sang?

Father, Son, And Holy Ghost, So I Make An Idle Boast; Jesus Of The Twice-turned Cheek Lamb Of God, Although I Speak With My Mouth Thus, In My Heart Do I Play A Double Part.

All Day Long And All Night Through, One Thing Only Must I Do: Quench My Pride And Cool My Blood, Lest I Perish In The Flood.

Yet Do I Marvel At This Curious Thing:/ To Make A Poet Black, And Bid Him Sing!

What Is Last Year's Snow To Me, Last Year's Anything? The Tree Budding Yearly Must Forget How Its Past Arose Or Set