Countee Cullen pictures a speaker who has carefully put his dreams away, wrapping them in silk and placing them in a golden box. The gesture feels both tender and protective: he is preserving something precious from a world he found harsh and cold. There is no bitterness in his voice — he insists he hides no hate and isn’t even angry — just a quiet decision to keep his inner hopes safe. The repeated lines give the poem a calm, almost lulling rhythm, while the image of the moth’s lips clinging to the cloth suggests that even guarded dreams can be fragile or touched by time. The overall mood is wistful and resigned, yet gentle: a poet choosing tenderness over resentment.
For a Poet — Summary
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; I hide no hate; I am not even wroth Who found earth’s breath so keen and cold; I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold.