Claude McKay

Claude McKay

Claude McKay (September 15, 1889May 22, 1948) was a Jamaican writer and communist and part of the Harlem Renaissance.

SourcedEdit

  • The shivering birds beneath the eaves
    Have sheltered for the night.
    • After the Winter, l. 3-4
  • The pavement slabs burn loose beneath my feet,
    A chafing savage, down the decent street;
    And passion rends my vitals as I pass,
    Where boldly shines your shuttered door of glass.
    • The White House, l. 5-8
  • Oh, I must keep my heart inviolate
    Against the potent poison of your hate.
    • The White House, l. 13-14
  • If we must die, O let us nobly die,
    So that our precious blood may not be shed
    In vain; then even the monsters we defy
    Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
    • If We Must Die, l. 5-8
  • Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
    And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
    Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
    I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
    • America, l. 1-4
  • The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
    Devoured her with their eager, passionate gaze;
    But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
    I knew her self was not in that strange place.
    • The Harlem Dancer, l. 11-14
  • Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
    I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch
    I bear it nobly as I live my part.
    • The White City, l. 2-4
  • I have forgotten much, but still remember
    The poinsiana's red, blood-red in warm December.
    • Flame-Heart, l. 9-10
  • Oh some I know! I have embalmed the days,
    Even the sacred moments when we played,
    All innocent of passion, uncorrupt,
    At noon and evening in the flame-heart’s shade.
    • Flame-Heart, l. 26-29
  • Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
    Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
    • If We Must Die, l. 13-14
  • And, hungry for the old, familiar ways,
    I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.
    • The Tropics in New York, l. 11-12
  • I know the dark delight of being strange,
    The penalty of difference in the crowd,
    The loneliness of wisdom among fools
    • Complete Poems, University of Illinois Press, 2004, p. 348

UnsourcedEdit

  • Idealism is like a castle in the air if it is not based on a solid foundation of social and political realism.
  • If a man is not faithful to his own individuality, he cannot be loyal to anything.
  • Nations, like plants and human beings, grow. And if the development is thwarted they are dwarfed and overshadowed.
  • Upon the clothes behind the tenement, That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines, Linking each flat, but to each indifferent, Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines.

External linksEdit

Wikipedia
Wikipedia has an article about:
Last modified on 28 October 2013, at 03:06