The White House

 

Your door is shut against my tightened face,

And I am sharp as steel with discontent;

But I possess the courage and the grace

To bear my anger proudly and unbent.

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.

Oh, I must search for wisdom every hour,

Deep in my wrathful bosom sore and raw,

And find it in the superhuman power

To hold me to the letter of your law!

Oh, I must keep my heart inviolate^

Against the potent poison of your hate.

 

                                       -- Claude McKay

 

^inviolate: untouched; undisturbed

Poetry Main Page

 

Poem Titles

Alphabetized List

 

READING / LITERATURE

 

INDEX

ASSIGNED READINGS

QUOTES

POETRY

DEEP THOUGHT

LITERATURE ON LINE

 

 

HOME     E-MAIL

 

GORDON     CALENDAR