Countee Cullen, "Road Song" (1923)
Let no tomorrow come;
Thy words are singing birds
That strike my faint lyre dumb.
This will I vow thee now,
Lest vows should go unsaid:
Thou art unto my heart
A song to wake the dead.
This oath I take to break
When falls the lover's code:
To fare as thou, and share
With thee each winding road.
Thus do I deal my seal,
No alien one may break:
Thy mouth to mine as south
The long lone trail we take.
Published in The Crisis, February 1923