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

Wisdom Cometh With the Years by Countee Cullen

Now I am young and credulous
   My heart is quick to bleed
At courage in the tremulous
   Slow sprouting of a seed.

Now I am young and sensitive,
   Man's lack can stab me through;
I own no stitch I would not give
   To him that asked me to.

Now I am young and a fool for love,
   My blood goes mad to see
A brown girl pass me like a dove
   That flies melodiously.

Let me be lavish of my tears,
   And dream that false is true;
Though wisdom cometh with the years,
   The barren days come, too.

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