Color (Cullen)/Harsh World That Lashest Me

by Countee Cullen

Harsh World That
Lashest Me

(For Walter White)

HARSH World that lashest me each day,
Dub me not cowardly because
I seem to find no sudden way
 To throttle you or clip your claws.
No force compels me to the wound
 Whereof my body bears the scar;
Although my feet are on the ground,
 Doubt not my eyes are on a star.

You cannot keep me captive, World,
 Entrammeled, chained, spit on, and spurned.
More free than all your flags unfurled,
 I give my body to be burned.
I mount my cross because I will,
 I drink the hemlock which you give
For wine which you withhold—and still,
 Because I will not die, I live.

I live because an ember in
 Me smoulders to regain its fire,
Because what is and what has been
 Not yet have conquered my desire.
I live to prove the groping clod
 Is surely more than simple dust;
I live to see the breath of God
 Beatify the carnal crust.

But when I will, World, I can go,
 Though triple bronze should wall me round,
Slip past your guard as swift as snow,
 Translated without pain or sound.
Within myself is lodged the key
 To that vast room of couches laid
For those too proud to live and see
 Their dreams of light eclipsed in shade.