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

Spring Reminiscence by Countee Cullen

"My sweet," you sang, and, "Sweet," I sang,
   And sweet we sang together,
Glad to be young as the world was young,
   Two colts too strong for a tether.

Shall ever a spring be like that spring,
   Or apple blossoms as white;
Or ever clover smell like the clover
   We lay upon that night?

Shall ever your hand lie in my hand,
   Pulsing to it, I wonder;
Or have the gods, being jealous gods,
   Envied us our thunder?

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