Countee Cullen’s speaker praises the woman he loves, focusing first on her voice, which he describes as a dark throat releasing a perfect golden note like a reed. He admires her walk, linking her movement to an African dance and a proud, winged spirit. Even so, she moves so gently that she barely touches moss or grass. It is a love song, but also a declaration of racial pride: he insists his dark beloved is more beautiful than pale, cold, listless women.
In the final lines, the speaker turns to someone who seems to pity him or look down on his love. He tells that person to gaze at her and despair, then keep silent until the sun finds anyone as fair. The mood is warm, confident, and quietly defiant, mixing tenderness with pride.