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I want to see the slim palm-trees,
Pulling at the clouds
With little pointed fingers....


I want to see lithe Negro girls,
Etched dark against the sky
While sunset lingers.


I want to hear the silent sands,
Singing to the moon
Before the Sphinx-still face....


I want to hear the chanting
Around a heathen fire
Of a strange black race.


I want to breathe the Lotus flow'r,
Sighing to the stars
With tendrils drinking at the Nile....


I want to feel the surging
Of my sad people's soul
Hidden by a minsrel-smile.

Written by Gwendolyn Bennett (1902-1981)

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