Russian Cathedral by Claude McKay
1 min to read
105 words

Bow down my soul in worship very low And in the holy silences be lost. Bow down before the marble man of woe, Bow down before the singing angel host.

What jewelled glory fills my spirit’s eye! What golden grandeur moves the depths of me! The soaring arches lift me up on high Taking my breath with their rare symmetry.

Bow down my soul and let the wondrous light Of Beauty bathe thee from her lofty throne Bow down before the wonder of man’s might. Bow down in worship, humble and alone; Bow lowly down before the sacred sight Of man’s divinity alive in stone.

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The Tropics in New York by Claude McKay
1 min to read
86 words
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