If I Am Going To

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?

Death Cut The Strings That Gave Me Life, And Handed Me To Sorrow, The Only Kind Of Middle Wife My Folks Could Beg Or Borrow.

Never Love With All Your Heart, It Only Ends In Aching.

Lord, I Fashion Dark Gods, Too, Daring Even To Give You Dark Despairing Features

Give But A Grain Of The Heart's Rich Seed, Confine Some Under Cover, And When Love Goes, Bid Him God-speed. And Find Another Lover.