Evening Song Poem by Jean Toomer
Evening Song
Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart.
Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon,
Miracle made vesper-keeps,
Cloine sleeps,
And I'll be sleeping soon.
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start,
Radiant, resplendently she gleams,
Cloine dreams,
Lips pressed against my heart.
Perhaps the greatest poet of the Harlem Renaissance; better than Langston Hughes, if not as accessible and joyful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 5:19:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start, Radiant, resplendently she gleams, Cloine dreams, Lips pressed against my heart.