What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
Our purpose is to grow up and become love
Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel.
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.
United States, your banner wears Two emblems--one of fame; Alas! the other that it bears Reminds us of your shame. Your banner's constellation types White freedom with its stars, But what's the meaning of the stripes? They mean your negroes' scars.