Psalms - Poem by robert dickerson
Sometimes the psalms of my dear compeer
Walt Whitman visit me again
I know it is to me his poems refer
So comradely-I know I am his son
The one got down in Louisianne
Where the live-oak spreads its greeny fronds
Over the warm and generous quadroon
To her have I repeatedly been born.
And all those poems are letters: billets-doux
Penned for me to show his love was strong
Nights when he was thoughtful and alone
As any father to a promising son
He'd wished he had more time to get to know-
Sorry to be out of town so long.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You