Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/252

230 we shall make a special presentation in this chapter.

An artistic and restrained expression of the protest against irrational color prejudice, in the plaintive, pathetic key, is found in the following free-verse poem by Winston Allen:

I touched the violin, I, whose hand was black, I touched the violin In a grand salon. I touched the violin In a Russian palace. I touched the violin And the dream-born strains Chanted by the Congo Soared to Heaven’s chambers. Could I touch the violin? I, whose hand was black? And bring to life dream music? Men had taunted me, Age-worn months: their jeers Snapped to bits my heartstrings, Snapped my inner soul; And the sting of living Tortured me the livelong day.

Sometimes the protest runs in a lighter vein—as thus, in verses entitled: