...Assignment 2: Harlem Renaissance Poets Demetria Davenport HUM 112 Dr. Jeff Kersh Countee Cullen (1903-1996) “Heritage” (1925) What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang? One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers loved, Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, What is Africa to me? So I lie, who all day long Want no sound except the song Sung by wild barbaric birds Goading massive jungle herds, Juggernauts of flesh that pass Trampling tall defiant grass Where young forest lovers lie, Plighting troth beneath the sky, So I lie, who always hear, Though I cram against my ear Both my thumbs, and keep them there, Great drums throbbing through the air, So I lie, whose fount of pride, Dear distress and joy allied, Is my somber flesh and skin, With the dark blood dammed within Like great pulsing tides of wine That, I fear, must burst the fine Channels of the chafing net Where they surge and form and fret. Africa? A book one thumbs Listlessly, till slumber comes, Unremembered are the bats Circling through the night, her cats Crouching in the river reeds, Stalking gentle flesh that feeds, By the river brink; no more Does the bugle throated roar Cry that monarch claws have leapt From the scabbards where they slept, Silver snakes that once a year Doff the lovely coats you wear, Seek no covert in your fear Lest...
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