You and I By Henry Alford My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear; My ear is tired waiting for your call. I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer; Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all. I droop without your full, frank sympathy; We ought to be together—you and I; We want each other so, to comprehend The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought. Companion, comforter and guide and friend, As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought. Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, We ought to be together, you and I.

Gather up In the arms of your love—Those who expect No love from above.

My seeking has been to explain and illuminate the Negro condition in America and obliquely that of all human kind.

Politics can be the graveyard of the poet. And only poetry can be his resurrection.

I will not take 'but' for an answer. Negroes have been looking at democracy's 'but' too long.

If you want to honor me, give some young boy or girl who's coming along trying to create arts and write and compose and sing and act and paint and dance and make something out of the beauties of the Negro race-give that child some help.

The calm, Cool face of the river, Asked me for a kiss