Treasure Island

Claude McKay

(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

America


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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Selena Stone (10/2/2008 7:07:00 PM)

    This is a great poem. i love to read Claude McKay's poems. He IS the BEST poet since Shakespeare. (Report) Reply

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