To Certain Critics Poem by Countee Cullen

To Certain Critics

Rating: 3.3

Then call me traitor if you must,
Shout reason and default!
Say I betray a sacred trust
Aching beyond this vault.
I'll bear your censure as your praise,
For never shall the clan
Confine my singing to its ways
Beyond the ways of man.

No racial option narrows grief,
Pain is not patriot,
And sorrow plaits her dismal leaf
For all as lief as not.
With blind sheep groping every hill,
Searching an oriflamme,
How shall the shpherd heart then thrill
To only the darker lamb?

To Certain Critics
Muzahidul Reza 02 March 2018

Critics always do good criticizing, showing the both sides of the term, ..... well penned

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Bernard F. Asuncion 02 March 2018

Such a great write by Countee Cullen👍👍👍

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Kumarmani Mahakul 02 March 2018

Beautifully painted. Impressive line is..... How shall the shpherd heart then thrill To only the darker lamb?

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James Mclain 02 March 2018

True various shades in-between of Gray, As the heavens if not dark could not then display To us all of the star's.. James McLain

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Marieta Maglas 02 March 2018

A song beyond the limits of the sinful man, a human condition. voted 10.

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Edward Kofi Louis 02 March 2018

Sorrow plaits her dismal leaf! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Mary Skarpathiotaki 02 March 2018


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