Under the Mistletoe / Countee Cullen

Under the Mistletoe

Under the Mistletoe, 1902. 

Courtesy Library of Congress

I did not know she’d take it so,
Or else I’d never dared;
Although the bliss was worth the blow,
I did not know she’d take it so.
She stood beneath the mistletoe
So long I thought she cared;
I did not know she’d take it so,
Or else I’d never dared.

~~
Countee Cullen (1903-1946)
from Copper Sun, 1927

[Poem is in the public domain in 

Canada and the United States]

Countee Cullen biography

"Under the Mistletoe" read by Arna Bontemps. Courtesy Smithsonian Folkways Recordings.

Lines to My Father / Countee Cullen

Lines to My Father

The many sow, but only the chosen reap;
Happy the wretched host if Day be brief,
That with the cool oblivion of sleep
A dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief.

If from the soil our sweat enriches sprout
One meagre blossom for our hands to cull,
Accustomed indigence provokes a shout
Of praise that life becomes so bountiful.

Now ushered regally into your own,
Look where you will, as far as eye can see,
Your little seeds are to a fullness grown,
And golden fruit is ripe on every tree.

Yours is no fairy gift, no heritage
Without travail, to which weak wills aspire;
This is a merited and grief-earned wage
From One Who holds His servants worth their hire.

So has the shyest of your dreams come true,
Built not of sand, but of the solid rock,
Impregnable to all that may accrue
Of elemental rage: storm, stress, and shock.

~~
Countee Cullen (1903-1946)
from Copper Sun, 1927

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Countee Cullen biography

Michael Barera, Apple Orchard, Wisconsin, 2022. CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.

To the Swimmer / Countee Cullen

To the Swimmer

Now as I watch you, strong of arm and endurance, battling and struggling
With the waves that rush against you, ever with invincible strength returning
Into my heart, grown each day more tranquil and peaceful, comes a fierce longing
Of mind and soul that will not be appeased until, like you,
I breast yon deep and boundless expanse of blue.

With an outward stroke of power intense your mighty arm goes forth,
Cleaving its way through waters that rise and roll, ever a ceaseless vigil keeping
Over the treasures beneath.

My heart goes out to you of dauntless courage and spirit indomitable,
And though my lips would speak, my spirit forbids me to ask,
“Is your heart as true as your arm?”

~~
Countee Cullen (1903-1946)
from The Modern School, May 1918

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Countee Cullen biography