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Poetry

 Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower, 
And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee.
Bowing my head in deep humility Before the silent thunder of thy power.
Sometimes I flee before thy blazing light, As from the specter of pursuing death; Intimidated lest thy mighty breath, Windways, will sweep me into utter night.
For oh, I fear they will be swallowed up-- The loves which are to me of vital worth, My passion and my pleasure in the earth-- And lost forever in thy magic cup! I fear, I fear my truly human heart Will perish on the altar-stone of art!

by Claude McKay
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