43 Quotes by Countee Cullen

Death cut the strings that gave me life, And handed me to Sorrow, The only kind of middle wife My folks could beg or borrow.

Lord, I fashion dark gods, too, Daring even to give You Dark despairing features

Ever at Thy glowing altar Must my heart grow sick and falter, Wishing He I served were black.

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, So I make an idle boast; Jesus of the twice-turned cheek Lamb of God, although I speak With my mouth thus, in my heart Do I play a double part.

Africa? A book one thumbs Listlessly, till slumber comes.

Quaint, outlandish heathen gods Black men fashion out of rods

I have a rendezvous with life.

Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some under cover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed. And find another lover.

What is last year's snow to me, Last year's anything? The tree Budding yearly must forget How its past arose or set