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Poem by Claude McKay

O Word I Love to Sing

O word I love to sing! thou art too tender 
For all the passions agitating me; 
For all my bitterness thou art too tender, 
I cannot pour my red soul into thee. 

O haunting melody! thou art too slender, 
Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass; 
For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender, 
The burden from my bosom will not pass. 

O tender word! O melody so slender! 
O tears of passion saturate with brine, 
O words, unwilling words, ye can not render 
My hatred for the foe of me and mine.

Claude McKay

Claude McKay's other poems:
  1. Enslaved
  2. Harlem Shadows
  3. Outcast
  4. Thirst
  5. Through Agony

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