No venomous cobra's stab e'er stung, Like nectared lies on a false friend's tongue.
Better by far the deadliest foe Who does not fail to let you know
He is your foe, nor does it smart As badly, when he rends your heart.
I plucked a rose, a red rose rare, I placed her on a throne Within my heart; and there I dare To worship her alone.
An idol, thus, I paid to her My constant vigil, love, and care. Upon my knees, I prayed to her, My whole heart in my prayer.
Alas ! my love, my care, my prayer, Failed! failed to keep my treasure fair. I saw (my heart filled with despair) Her drooping head ;
Her beauty, grace and fragrance flown, Her every leaf and petal shorn, I gazed in silence — and alone — Upon my dead.
I often wonder, Oscar, How it fares with you ; Do you look down and smile on us, From that vast realm of blue ?
Tell me, Brother, do you hear The belching cannon's roar? Does their death-dealing thunder break Your peace on yonder shore ?
I seem to hear you answering, That toil and pain and woe And care and strife — ah! yes, and death Were left behind, below.
Round appearing, Illuminant fire, Built in space, Shedding heat, Traveling westward ;
Your photosphere Conflicts With dwindling light Of stricken day, At dying hour.
Emerging from The reek appears At distant edge of earth, A straightened rainbow Reaching far into the sky- You are an artist, Sun!
You say "That man was made to mourn." Would you have me believe it — Believe earth holds no recompense Until death bids me leave it — Believe there is but misery And toil on toil, in store for me?
No. I do not, cannot believe, While heaven smiles above me, That I was doom'd on earth to mourn With naught to cheer or love me. Wise Bard, although your dirge rings true, I do not agree with you.
The lips so often frame a smile While the eyes in salt tears swim And heart, repellent cup of bile, Is filled to kiss the brim.
Oft firm and stern we find a face, Devoid of outward sign, A mask before the dwelling place Of happiness divine.
Raymond Garfield Dandridge was an African American poet born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1882, who worked as a house painter and decorator while writing poetry. He published a collection titled 'The Poet and Other Poems' in 1920 and contributed to periodicals such as 'The Crisis'. His poems frequently employed dialect and standard English to portray the experiences of Black Americans, celebrating their culture while also critiquing racial discrimination. Dandridge addressed subjects such as Black military service, folk traditions, and the dignity of labor. He is associated with the broader period of the Harlem Renaissance, though he remained based in Cincinnati rather than New York. His work appeared alongside that of more widely known poets of the era and earned recognition within Black literary circles. Dandridge died in 1930, leaving a modest but significant body of poetry that documents early twentieth-century African American perspectives.
Step-by-step learning, voice recordings you can share, and review reminders.
