The Loss Of Love Is

Not For Myself I Make This Prayer, But For This Race Of Mine That Stretches Forth From Shadowed Places Dark Hands For Bread And Wine.

The Key To All Strange Things Is In Thy Heart..../ My Spirit Has Come Home, That Sailed The Doubtful Seas.

If I Am Going To Be A Poet At All, I Am Going To Be Poet And Not Negro Poet.

Lord, I Fashion Dark Gods, Too, Daring Even To Give You Dark Despairing Features

Father, Son, And Holy Ghost, So I Make An Idle Boast; Jesus Of The Twice-turned Cheek Lamb Of God, Although I Speak With My Mouth Thus, In My Heart Do I Play A Double Part.