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The Good Man

 The good man.
He is still enhancer, renouncer.
In the time of detachment, in the time of the vivid heather and affectionate evil, in the time of oral grave grave legalities of hate - all real walks our prime registered reproach and seal.
Our successful moral.
The good man.
Watches our bogus roses, our rank wreath, our love's unreliable cement, the gray jubilees of our demondom.
Coherent Counsel! Good man.
Require of us our terribly excluded blue.
Constrain, repair a ripped, revolted land.
Put hand in hand land over.
Reprove the abler droughts and manias of the day and a felicity entreat.
Love.
Complete your pledges, reinforce your aides, renew stance, testament.

Poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Book: Shattered Sighs