Simon the Cyrenian Speaks
He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, "I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black."
But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek,
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone.
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Comments about this poem (Simon the Cyrenian Speaks by Countee Cullen )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Sheldon Allan Silverstein
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1924 - 2000)
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