The Lynching

Claude McKayClaude McKay

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His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven.
His father, by the cruelest way of pain,
Had bidden him to his ***** once again;
The awful sin remained still unforgiven.
All night a bright and solitary star
(Perchance the one that ever guided him,
Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim)
Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char.
Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view
The ghastly body swaying in the sun
The women thronged to look, but never a one
Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;
And little lads, lynchers that were to be,
Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.
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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