African American Poetry: A Digital Anthology

Georgia Douglas Johnson, "Taps" (1922)

Taps

They are embosomed in the sod,
   In still and tranquil leisure,
Their lives they’ve cast like trifles down,
   To serve their country’s pleasure.

Nor bugle call, nor mother’s voice.
   Nor moody mob’s unreason,
Shall break their solace and repose
   Through swiftly changing season.

O graves of men who lived and died
   Afar from life’s high pleasures,
Fold them in tenderly and warm
   With manifold fond measures.


Published in Bronze, 1922

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