For Myself — Summary

Countee Cullen’s “For Myself” reads like a short epitaph spoken from inside the grave. The speaker tells a passerby that the body buried here deserves genuine grief, because the grave contains more than a corpse. Along with him lie Folly, Pride, and Love—personified companions that are “buried alive.” That phrase is the key: even in death, these parts of him have not gone quiet. The speaker is not simply dead and at peace; he is still tangled up with his own mistakes, arrogance, and affection. The mood is intimate and mournful, but also strangely restless. The grave is crowded with feeling, not empty. It’s a compact, haunting meditation on how much of a person—especially the difficult, passionate parts—can remain vivid even after death.