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Poem by Countee Cullen
To a Brown Girl
What if his glance is bold and free, His mouth the lash of whips? So should the eyes of lovers be And so a lovers lips. What if no puritanic strain Confines him to the nice? He will not pass this way or again Or hunger for you twice. Since in the end consort together Magdalen and Mary, Youth is the time for careless weather; Later lass, be wary.
Countee Cullen's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org