Sunday, June 04, 2017


—Anonymous Photo

—Claude McKay (1889-1948)
All yesterday it poured, and all night long
   I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat

Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
   Upon the grass like running children’s feet.

And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
   Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,

Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
   And nestled soft against the earth’s wet breast.

But lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
   The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,

The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
   The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.

And all things were transfigured in the day,
   But me whom radiant beauty could not move;

For you, more wonderful, were far away,
   And I was blind with hunger for your love.