In honor of the holiday, a poem from Harlem Renaissance Poet Claude McKay:
By Claude McKay
Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.
For more poems about this land we call home, check out:
Shorter American Memory of the Declaration of Independence, by Rosmarie Waldrop
Fourth of July at Santa Ynez, by John Haines