Poem by Countee Cullen

Nocturne

Tell me all things false are true,
Bitter sweet, that fools are wise;
I will not doubt nor question you;
I am in a mood for lies.

Tell me all things ill turn good;
Thew and sinew will be stronger
Thriving on the deadly food
Life proffers for their hunger.

Paint love lovely, if you will;
Be crafty, sly, deceptive;
Here is fertile land to till,
Sun-seeking, rain-receptive.

Hold my hand and lie to me;
I will not ask you How nor Why;
I see death drawing nigh to me
Out of the corner of my eye.

1. To Certain Critics
2. That Bright Chimeric Beast
3. The Wakeupworld
4. Karenge Ya Marenge
5. For a Poet

Eugene O'Neill Nocturne ("The sunset gun booms out in hollow roar") 1910

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