A Black Man Talks of Reaping

I have sown beside all waters in my day

I planted deep, within my heart the fear

That wind or fowl would take the grain away.

I planted safe against this stark, lean year.

I scattered seed enough to plant the land

In rows from Canada to Mexico

But for my reaping only what the hand

Can hold at once is all that I can show.

Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields

My brother' sons are gathering stalk and root,

Small wonder then my children glean in fields

They have not sown, and feed on bitter fruits