Georgia Douglas Johnson, "Welt" (1927)
Which daily flaunts its tatters to my eyes,
Would I might compromise awhile with Truth
Until Love's moon, now waxing, wanes and dies.
For I would go a further while with you
And drain this Cup of Joy so passing fair,
Which meets my parched lips like cooling dew
'Ere Time has brushed cold fingers thru my hair.
Published in Carolina Magazine, May 1927