| James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922. |
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| It Was Not Fate |
| | | William H. A. Moore |
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| IT was not fate which overtook me, | |
| Rather a wayward, wilful wind | |
| That blew hot for awhile | |
| And then, as the even shadows came, blew cold. | |
| What pity it is that a man grown old in life’s dreaming | 5 |
| Should stop, e’en for a moment, to look into a woman’s eyes. | |
| And I forgot! | |
| Forgot that one’s heart must be steeled against the east wind. | |
| Life and death alike come out of the East: | |
| Life as tender as young grass, | 10 |
| Death as dreadful as the sight of clotted blood. | |
| I shall go back into the darkness, | |
| Not to dream but to seek the light again. | |
| I shall go by paths, mayhap, | |
| On roads that wind around the foothills | 15 |
| Where the plains are bare and wild | |
| And the passers-by come few and far between. | |
| I want the night to be long, the moon blind, | |
| The hills thick with moving memories, | |
| And my heart beating a breathless requiem | 20 |
| For all the dead days I have lived. | |
| When the Dawn comes—Dawn, deathless, dreaming— | |
| I shall will that my soul must be cleansed of hate, | |
| I shall pray for strength to hold children close to my heart, | |
| I shall desire to build houses where the poor will know shelter, comfort, beauty. | 25 |
| And then may I look into a woman’s eyes | |
| And find holiness, love and the peace which passeth understanding. | |
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