| James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922. |
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| La Vie C’est la Vie |
| | | Jessie Fauset |
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| ON summer afternoons I sit | |
| Quiescent by you in the park, | |
| And idly watch the sunbeams gild | |
| And tint the ash-trees’ bark. | |
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| Or else I watch the squirrels frisk | 5 |
| And chaffer in the grassy lane; | |
| And all the while I mark your voice | |
| Breaking with love and pain. | |
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| I know a woman who would give | |
| Her chance of heaven to take my place; | 10 |
| To see the love-light in your eyes, | |
| The love-glow on your face! | |
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| And there’s a man whose lightest word | |
| Can set my chilly blood afire; | |
| Fulfilment of his least behest | 15 |
| Defines my life’s desire. | |
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| But he will none of me, | |
| Nor I Of you. Nor you of her. ’Tis said | |
| The world is full of jests like these.— | |
| I wish that I were dead. | 20 |
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