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


As, when some filthy sore grows menacing,
Polluting all the currents of pure air,
Dispersing its vile atoms everywhere—
While with death-poisoned tentacles they cling,
To our hearts' treasuries, devouring,
And laying waste the temples of our care,—
The surgeon with blade kind but firm lays bare
And cuts away the flesh, foul, festering:—
So must the learned doctors of the State
Relentlessly cut the leprous sore
Of prejudice! else will they find too late,
Its rank corruption eating thro' the core
Of human brotherhood! Grim germs of Hate,
Razing our kingdom with titanic roar! 

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