Claude McKay

(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

The White City - Poem by Claude McKay

I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.
Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch
I bear it nobly as I live my part.
My being would be a skeleton, a shell,
If this dark Passion that fills my every mood,
And makes my heaven in the white world's hell,
Did not forever feed me vital blood.
I see the mighty city through a mist--
The strident trains that speed the goaded mass,
The poles and spires and towers vapor-kissed,
The fortressed port through which the great ships pass,
The tides, the wharves, the dens I contemplate,
Are sweet like wanton loves because I hate.


Comments about The White City by Claude McKay

  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (2/5/2016 9:12:00 AM)


    The tides, the wharves, the dens I contemplate,
    Are sweet like wanton loves because I hate................Superb! ! ! !
    (Report) Reply

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  • Ahmed Gumaa Siddiek (2/5/2016 5:09:00 AM)


    I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.
    Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
    I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch
    I bear it nobly as I live my part.

    Good image and personification.
    (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: hate, city, passion, heaven, dark, world, heart, life, kiss



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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