|09-27-2011, 10:17 PM||#1 (permalink)|
Join Date: Jul 2011
Location: Toledo, OH
Yet I Do Marvel
I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind
And did He stoop to quibble could tell why
The little buried mole continues blind,
Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,
Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus
Is baited by the fickle fruit, declare
If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus
To struggle up a never-ending stair.
Inscrutable His ways are, and immune
To catechism by a mind too strewn
With petty cares to slightly understand
What awful brain compels His awful hand.
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:
To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
United States • 1903-1946
Countee Cullen is considered by many the leader of the Harlem Renaissance, a cultural movement in the 1920s. During his time he was raved for poetry that bridged the gap between races, despite few people knowing the true man behind the words. Leading a very secretive life, historians are unsure whether Robert was born in Louisville or Baltimore. His first collection of poems, Color, released upon his graduation from New York University in 1925 revealed unseen racial injustice. Cullen would later receive his masters from Harvard and marry Yolanda DuBois, daughter of civil rights leader W.E.B. DuBois, in 1928.
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