Additional Poems By Gwendolyn Bennett Essay Research

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Additional Poems By Gwendolyn Bennett Essay, Research Paper Song I am weaving a song of waters, Shaken from firm, brown limbs, Or heads thrown back in irreverent mirth. My song has the ush sweetness Of moist, dark lips Where hymns keep company With old forgotten banjo songs. Abandon tells you That I sing the heart of race While sadness whispers That I am the cry of a soul. . . . A-shoutin’ in de ole camp-meeting-place, A-strummin’ o’ de ole banjo. Singin’ in de moonlight, Sobbin’ in de dark. Singin’, sobbin’, strummin’ slow . . . Singin’ slow, sobbin’ low. Strummin’, strummin’, strummin’ slow . . . Words are bright bugles That make the shining for my song, And mothers hold down babies To dark, warm breasts To make my singing sad. A dancing girl with

swaying hips Sets mad the queen in the harlot’s eye. Praying slave Jazz-band after Breaking heart To the time of laughter . . . Clinking chains and minstrelsy Are wedged fast with melody. A praying slave With a jazz-band after . . . Singin’ slow, sobbin’ low. Sun-baked lips will kiss the earth. Throats of bronze will burst with mirth. Sing a little faster, Sing a little faster, Sing! (1926) Lines Written at the Grave of Alexandre Dumas Cemeteries are places for departed souls And bones interred, Or hearts with shattered loves. A woman with lips made warm for laughter Would find grey stones and roving spirits Too chill for living, moving pulses . . . And thou, great spirit, wouldst shiver in thy granite shroud Should idle mirth or empty talk Disturb thy tranquil sleeping. A

cemetery is a place for shattered loves And broken hearts . . . Bowed before the crystal chalice of thy soul, I find the multi-colored fragrance of thy mind Has lost itself in Death’s transparency. Oh, stir the lucid waters of thy sleep And coin for me a tale Of happy loves and gems and joyous limbs And hearts where love is sweet! A cemetery is a place for broken hearts And silent thought . . . And silence never moves, Nor speaks nor sings. (1926) Hatred I shall hate you Like a dart of singing steel Shot through still air At even-tide, Or solemnly As pines are sober When they stand etched Against the sky. Hating you shall be a game Played with cool hands And slim fingers. Your heart will yearn For the lonely splendor Of the pine tree While rekindled fires In my eyes Shall wound

you like swift arrows. Memory will lay its hands Upon your breast And you will understand My hatred. (1926) Secret I shall make a song like you hair . . . Gold-woven with shadows green-tinged, And I shall play with my song As my fingers might play with your hair. Deep in my heart I shall play with my song of you, Gently. . . . I shall laugh At its sensitive lustre . . . I shall wrap my song in a blanket, Blue like your eyes are blue With tiny shots of silver. I shall wrap it caressingly, Tenderly. . . . I shall sing a lullaby To the song I have made Of your hair and eyes . . . And you will never know That deep in my heart I shelter a song for you Secretly. . . . (1927) Sonnets 1. He came in silvern armour, trimmed with black– A lover come from legends long ago– With silver

spurs and silken plumes a-blow, And flashing sword caught fast and buckled back In a carven sheath of Tamarack. He came with footsteps beautifully slow, And spoke in voice meticulously low. He came and Romance followed in his track . . I did not ask his name–I thought him Love; I did not care to see his hidden face. All life seemed born in my intaken breath; All thought seemed flown like some forgotten dove. He bent to kiss and raised his visor’s lace . . . All eager-lipped I kissed the mouth of Death. 2. Some things are very dear to me– Such things as flowers bathed by rain Or patterns traced upon the sea Or crocuses where snow has lain . . . The iridescence of a gem, The moon’s cool opalescent light, Azaleas and the scent of them, And honeysuckles in the night. And many