April Is National Poetry Month!
THE BLACK MOTHER
MARCUS GARVEY
Where can I find love that never changes
Smiles that are true
and always just the same,
Caring not how the fierce tempest
rages,
Willing ever to shield my honored name?
This I find at home, only with Mother,
Who cares for me with
patient tenderness;
She from every human pain would rather
Save
me, and drink the dregs of bitterness.
If on life's way I happen to flounder,
My true thoughts should
be of Mother dear,
She is the rock that ne'er rifts asunder,
The
cry of her child, be it far or near.
This is love wonderful beyond compare;
It is God's choicest gift
to mortal man;
You, who know Mother, in this thought must
share,
For, she, of all, is Angel of your Clan.
My Mother is black, loveliest of all;
Yes, she is as pure as the
new made morn;
Her song of glee is a clear rythmic call
To
these arms of love to which I was born.
I shall never forget you, sweet Mother,
Where'er in life I may
happen to roam;
Thou shalt always be the Fairy Charmer
To
turn my dearest thoughts to things at home.
1927
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