Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance: African American Women Writers 1900-1922

Dead Leaves

The breaking dead leaves 'neath my feet
A plaintive melody repeat,
Recalling shattered hopes that lie
As relics of a bygone sky.
Again I thread the mazy past,
Back where the mounds are scattered fast -
Oh! foolish tears, why do you start,
To break of dead leaves in the heart?

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