December, 1919

Claude McKayClaude McKay

1 min read · 12.4K reads

Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat
The drops refused to fall.'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.
Claude McKay
About the poet

Claude McKay

1889 - 1948/JamaicanClaude McKay was a Jamaican writer and poet. He was a communist in his early life, but after a visit to the Soviet Union, decided that communism was too disciplined and confining. McKay was involved in the Harlem Renaissance and wrote thre…

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