African American Poetry: A Digital Anthology

Claude McKay, "Free" (1912)

SCARCE can I believe my eyes,
Yet before me there it lies,
Precious paper granting me
Quick release from misery.
 
So farewell to Half Way Tree,
And the plains I hate to see!
Soon will I forget my ills
In my loved Clarendon hills. 


From Constab Ballads, 1912

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