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...SONNET: AUTUMN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE ENGLAND IN 1819 by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IAMBICUM TRIMETRUM, FR. LETTER TO HARVEY by EDMUND SPENSER HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS (1) by ANYTE |