Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/285

Rh I give deep thanks that I’m at peace With kith and kin and neighbors, too; Dear Lord, for all last year’s increase, That helped me strive and hope and do. My heart gives thanks for many things; I know not how to name them all. My soul is free from frets and stings, My mind from creed and doctrine’s thrall. For sun and stars, for flowers and streams, For work and hope and rest and play, For empty moments given to dreams— For these my heart gives thanks today. —William Stanley Braithwaite.

I will conclude this anthology with a selection from our Madagascar poet, Andrea Razafkeriefo, which, in a happy strain, conveys a very good philosophy of life—which is especially the Afro-American’s:

On rainy days I don’t despair, But slip into my rocking chair; With my old pipe and volume rare And wade in fiction deep. The pitter-patter of the rain Upon the roof and window pane Comes like a lullaby’s refrain, Till soon I’m fast asleep.

I’m grateful for the rainy days: ’Tis only then my fancy plays, And mem’ry wanders back and strays O’er paths I loved so dear.