The earth is a father The earth is a garden The earth is a pillow For the head. PAUSE If it were to become Complete ; If All of a sudden Everything were to hold its breath: Surely The walls of the city With a terrible noise. Louis Gilmore PASSERS-BY I Mostly it is eyes that find me, Shoe-strings I have little need of, So I pass on And let you fall behind. I too am blind. II And you, my little friend of the gay dress! I have touched your hand and kissed your wistfulness And I know that neither the powder on your nose, Nor the amazing things you wear upon your feet, Can alter the gentleness my spirit owes To vision of you, hurrying down the street. III I know you. You are one of those who fear And leaning girls with splendid shoulders bare, In the concert hall You are the musician I the listener. IV Here your fingers touch no bow, Make no music for me. We pass one another I do not marvel so that you can wear VI When you have passed and other eyes Raymond Peckham Holden THREE NEGRO SPIRITUALS THE LOST LOVE Oh, where has my honey gone? Nobody knows! Why the tears that drop all night? Moon goes down and stars grow cold. Nobody knows! HOW LONG, O LORD! How long, O Lord, nobody knows! How long, O Lord, nobody knows! WHO IS THAT A-WALKING IN Who is that a-walking in the corn? Who is that a-walking in the corn? Who is that a-walking in the corn? Near the cornfield in the morning? Who is that a-walking in the corn? I have looked to East and looked to West Fenton Johnson |