African American Poetry (1870-1928): A Digital Anthology

Charles Bertram Johnson, "Old Friends" (1921)

Sit here before my grate, 
Until it's ashen gray,
Or till the night grows late,
And talk the time away.

I cannot think to sleep,
And miss your golden speech,
My bed of dreams will keep--
You here within my reach.

I have so much to say,
The time is short at best,
A bit of toil and play,
And after that comes rest.

But you and I know now
The wisdom of the soul,
The years that seamed the brow
Have made our visions whole.

Sit here before my grate,
Until the ash is cold;
The things you say of late
Are fine as shriven gold.

Published in The Crisis, September 1921 

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