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About this poet

On December 26, 1894, Jean Toomer was born in Washington, D.C., the son of Nathan Toomer, a Georgian farmer, and Nina Pinchback. His grandfather, Pinckney Benton Stewart Pinchback, was the first African American governor in the United States, serving in Louisiana during Reconstuction from 1872 to 1873. Toomer began college at the University of Wisconsin in 1914 but transferred to the College of the City of New York and studied there until 1917.

Toomer spent the next four years writing and published poetry and prose in Broom, The Liberator, The Little Review, and other journals. He actively participated in literary society and was acquainted with such prominent figures as the critic Kenneth Burke, the photographer Alfred Steiglitz, and the poet Hart Crane.

In 1921, Toomer took a teaching job in Georgia and remained there for four months; the trip represented his journey back to his Southern roots. His experience inspired his book Cane, which describes the Georgian people and landscape and is regarded as an influential work in modernist literature. About the book Rudolph P. Byrd and Henry Louis Gates Jr. wrote, "Cane, a compelling, haunting amalgam of fiction, poetry, and drama unified formally and thematically and replete with leitmotifs, would elevate Toomer, virtually overnight, to the status of a canonical writer in two branches of American modernism: the writers and critics who compose the New Critics and the 'Lost Generation' and those who compose the New Negro movement or the Harlem Renaissance."

In the early 1920s, Toomer became interested in Unitism, a religion founded by the Armenian George Ivanovich Gurdjieff. The doctrine taught unity, transcendence, and mastery of self through yoga, all of which appealed to Toomer. After studying with Gurdjieff in France, Toomer began to preach his teachings in Harlem and offer workshops in other parts of the country. In 1936, Toomer moved to Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and eventually distanced himself from Gurdjieff and took up a new interest in Quakerism. 

Toomer, devoted to seeking spiritual enlightment, also questioned the boundaries of race. His longing for a national identity free from divisions by race or class is illustrated by his Whitmanesque long poem "Blue Meridian." About his quest, Elizabeth Alexander wrote in her poem "Toomer," "I did not wish to 'rise above' / or 'move beyond' my race. I wished / to contemplate who I was beyond / my body, this container of flesh."

He died after numerous ailments in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, on March 30, 1967.


Selected Bibliography

Poetry
Cane (1923)
The Collected Poems of Jean Toomer (1980)

Prose
Essentials (1931)
The Wayward and the Seeking: A Collection of Writings by Jean Toomer (1980)

Song of the Son

Pour O pour that parting soul in song,
O pour it in the sawdust glow of night,
Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night,
And let the valley carry it along.
And let the valley carry it along.

O land and soil, red soil and sweet-gum tree,
So scant of grass, so profligate of pines,
Now just before an epoch's sun declines
Thy son, in time, I have returned to thee,
Thy son, I have in time returned to thee.

In time, for though the sun is setting on
A song-lit race of slaves, it has not set;
Though late, O soil, it is not too late yet
To catch thy plaintive soul, leaving, soon gone,
Leaving, to catch thy plaintive soul soon gone.

O Negro slaves, dark purple ripened plums,
Squeezed, and bursting in the pine-wood air,
Passing before they stripped the old tree bare
One plum was saved for me, one seed becomes

An everlasting song, a singing tree,
Caroling softly souls of slavery,
What they were, and what they are to me,
Caroling softly souls of slavery.

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

Jean Toomer

Jean Toomer

Born in 1894, Jean Toomer is the author of Cane, a book of prose and poetry describing the people and landscape of Georgia.

by this poet

poem
Hairbraided chestnut,
     coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes
poem
The sky, lazily disdaining to pursue
    The setting sun, too indolent to hold
    A lengthened tournament for flashing gold, 
Passively darkens for night’s barbecue, 
 
A feast of moon and men and barking hounds, 
    An orgy for some genius of the
poem
Full moon rising on the waters of my heart, 
Lakes and moon and fires, 
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart. 
 
Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon, 
Miracle made vesper-keeps, 
Cloine sleeps, 
And I’ll be sleeping