Brother-teeth flashing in the cant of compliments
Brother-gold-rimmed glasses
Across eyes that go blue at a word from the Master
Poor brother in your silk-lined tuxedo
Chatter and whisper and swagger through condescending
drawing-rooms
We pity you
The sun of your land is no more than a shadow
Across the calm brow of a civilized man
And your grandmother's but
Reddens a face whited by the bowing and
Scraping of years
But when you are sick of the words as sounding and empty
As the cash-box perched on your shoulders
You will tread the African earth bitter and red
And your restless steps will be to the rhythm of this tormented refrain
Alone here alone how all alone I feel!