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Harlem Shadows/December, 1919

 

DECEMBER, 1919


Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.


And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat ,
The drops refused to fall.

'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.