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Fifty Years and Other Poems

door James Weldon Johnson

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Excerpt: ... 'Tis then I fall beneath the magic of your spell, 'Tis then I know the vantage is not mine. Ah when you take your horns from off your head, And soft and fragrant hair is in their place; I must admit I fear the tangled path I tread When that dear head is laid against my face. And at what time you change your baleful eyes For stars that melt into the gloom of night, All of my courage, my dear fellow, quickly flies; I know my chance is slim to win the fight. 42 And when, instead of charging down to wreck Me on a red-hot pitchfork in your hand, You throw a pair of slender arms about my neck, I dare not trust the ground on which I stand. Whene'er in place of using patent wile, Or trying to frighten me with horrid grin, You tempt me with two crimson lips curved in a smile; Old Devil, I must really own, you win. GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR The snow has ceased its fluttering flight, The wind sunk to a whisper light, An ominous stillness fills the night, A pause… (meer)

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RobinMcLendon, selfcallednowhere, PermDude, dwhodges01, Citizenjoyce, osuldiversity

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James Weldon Johnson was part of the Harlem Renaissance. This book was written to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, kind of appropriate for the current 150th commemoration of the beginning of the civil war. The book starts with praises for God, Christ and Abraham Lincoln. There are poems describing the oppression of African Americans and praising Black soldiers. There are a few love poems, a couple of poems about music, one powerful one "O Black and Unknown Bard" about writers of spirituals that sustained the slaves. There are a couple of light poems that are almost commercials, some praise of his time living in South America, and the whole last of the book is written in rather stylized Negro dialect - not my favorite, did people really use the word pickaninny? But here's one that really got my attention:

The Word of an Engineer

"She's built of steel From deck to keel, And bolted strong and tight; In scorn she'll sail The fiercest gale, And pierce the darkest night.

"The builder's art Has proved each part Throughout her breadth and length; Deep in the hulk, Of her mighty bulk, Ten thousand Titans' strength."

The tempest howls,
The Ice Wolf prowls,
The winds they shift and veer,
But calm I sleep,
And faith I keep
In the word of an engineer.

Along the trail Of the slender rail
The train, like a nightmare, flies And dashes on

Through the black-mouthed yawn
Where the cavernous tunnel lies.

Over the ridge,
Across the bridge,
Swung twixt the sky and hell,
On an iron thread
Spun from the head
Of the man in a draughtsman's cell.
And so we ride
Over land and tide,
Without a thought of fear --
Man never had
The faith in God
That he has in an engineer! (

)

Citizenjoyce | Apr 14, 2011 |

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Excerpt: ... 'Tis then I fall beneath the magic of your spell, 'Tis then I know the vantage is not mine. Ah when you take your horns from off your head, And soft and fragrant hair is in their place; I must admit I fear the tangled path I tread When that dear head is laid against my face. And at what time you change your baleful eyes For stars that melt into the gloom of night, All of my courage, my dear fellow, quickly flies; I know my chance is slim to win the fight. 42 And when, instead of charging down to wreck Me on a red-hot pitchfork in your hand, You throw a pair of slender arms about my neck, I dare not trust the ground on which I stand. Whene'er in place of using patent wile, Or trying to frighten me with horrid grin, You tempt me with two crimson lips curved in a smile; Old Devil, I must really own, you win. GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR The snow has ceased its fluttering flight, The wind sunk to a whisper light, An ominous stillness fills the night, A pause

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