Poems

Find and share the perfect poems.

For John Keats, Apostle of Beauty

1903 –

1946

Not writ in water, nor in mist,
Sweet lyric throat, thy name;
Thy singing lips that cold death kissed
Have seared his own with flame.

^{(For Carl Van Vechten)}

Countee Cullen

1925

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue and called me, “Nigger.”

Countee Cullen

1927

1
For my Grandmother

This lovely flower fell to seed;
Work gently sun and rain;
She held it as her dying creed
That she would grow again.

2
For John Keats, Apostle of Beauty

Countee Cullen

1927