White folks is white, says uncle Jim; A platitude, I sneer; And then I tell him so is milk, And the froth upon his beer. His heart walled up with bitterness, He smokes his pungent pipe, And nods at me as if to say, Young fool, you'll soon be ripe! I have a friend who eats his heart Always with grief of mine, Who drinks my joy as tipplers drain Deep goblets filled with wine. I wonder why here at his side, Face-in-the-grass with him, My mind should stray the Grecian urn To muse on uncle Jim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS AND LEARNING IN AMERICA by GEORGE BERKELEY ONE WAY OF LOVE by ROBERT BROWNING THE DEPARTURE OF THE GOOD DAEMON by ROBERT HERRICK THE CRISIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE IMAGE OF GOD by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA ON CYNTHIA, SINGING A RECITATIVE PIECE OF MUSIC by PHILIP AYRES |