Poem by Countee Cullen

Song in Spite of Myself

Never love with all your heart,
It only ends in aching;
And bit by bit to the smallest part
That organ will be breaking.

Never love with all your mind,
It only ends in fretting;
In musing on sweet joys behind,
too poignant for forgetting.

Never love with all your soul,
for such there is no ending;
though a mind that frets may find control,
and a shattered heart find mending.

Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed,
Confine some undercover,
And when love goes, bid him God-speed,
and find another lover.

1. To Certain Critics
2. That Bright Chimeric Beast
3. For a Poet
4. Karenge Ya Marenge
5. The Wakeupworld

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