Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance: African American Women Writers 1900-1922Main Menu"Bronze" by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1922)Digital Edition of Georgia Douglas Johnson's 1922 Collection of Poetry"Race Rhymes" by Carrie Williams Clifford (1911)Digital Edition of Carrie Williams Clifford's "Race Rhymes" (1911)"The Widening Light," by Carrie Williams Clifford (1922)Book by Carrie Williams Clifford. Published 1922"Songs from the Wayside," by Clara Ann Thompson (1908)Digital Edition of Clara Ann Thompson's "Songs from the Wayside""The Heart of a Woman and Other Poems" by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1918)Book by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1918)Mapping Poets and Contexts on this SiteMap of the Poets, Publication Sites, and Social Contexts Relevant to this SiteTimeline of Authors and Events on This SiteTimelineContextual EssaysOrigins of this ProjectContextual EssayBibliographyBibliographyAmardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e1
12017-06-06T11:02:34-04:00Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e11041Poem by Georgia Douglas Johnson. From "Bronze"plain2017-06-06T11:02:34-04:00Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e1
Oh, black man, why do you northward roam, and leave
all the farm lands bare?
Is your house not warm, tightly thatched from storm,
and a larder replete your share?
And have you not schools, fit with books and tools the
steps of your young to guide?
Then what do you seek, in the north cold and bleak,
‘mid the whirl of its teeming tide?
I have toiled in your cornfields, and parched in the sun,
I have bowed ‘neath your load of care,
I have patiently garnered your bright golden grain, in
season of storm and fair.
With a smile I have answered your glowering gloom,
while my wounded heart quivering bled.
Trailing mute in your wake, as your rosy dawn breaks,
while I curtain the mound of my dead.
Though my children are taught in the schools you have
wrought, they are blind to the sheen of the sky,
For the brand of your hand, casts a pall o’er the land,
that enshadows the gleam of the eye.
My sons, deftly sapped of the brawn-hood of man, self-
rejected and impotent stand,
My daughters, unhaloed, unhonored, undone, feed the
lust of a dominant land.
I would not remember, yet could not forget, how the
hearts beating true to your own.
You’ve tortured, and wounded, and filtered their blood
‘till a budding Hegira has blown.
Unstrange is the pathway to Calvary’s hill, which I
wend in my dumb agony,
Up its perilous height, in the pale morning light, to
dissever my own from the tree.
And so I’m away, where the sky-line of day sets the
arch of its rainbow afar,
To the land of the north, where the symbol of worth
sets the broad gates of combat ajar!
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12017-05-24T11:30:29-04:00Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e1"Bronze" by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1922)Amardeep Singh16Digital Edition of Georgia Douglas Johnson's 1922 Collection of Poetryplain2018-11-07T10:00:36-05:0001/01/192238.9143207,-77.036494941.2843306,-82.23383433.7499079,-84.4132416Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e1