Claude McKay

(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

December, 1919


Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.

And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat
The drops refused to fall.

'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Kash Earley (5/13/2008 1:41:00 AM)

    This is a 10. It is so very sad when people have the gall to judge another's works.
    Once a 7.7 or a lessor vote is in place it sadly skews all other subsequent votes.
    Now...Mr.10 C. McKay this is a moving and poignant work. It speaks to those that have lost MOM. And though you are gone...thank you for leaving the world your masterful creations for all to share. Especially, December,1919. (Report) Reply

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