I am the mother of sorrows, <br />I am the ender of grief; <br />I am the bud and the blossom, <br />I am the late-falling leaf. <br /> <br />I am thy priest and thy poet, <br />I am thy serf and thy king; <br />I cure the tears of the heartsick, <br />When I come near they shall sing. <br /> <br />White are my hands as the snowdrop; <br />Swart are my fingers as clay; <br />Dark is my frown as the midnight, <br />Fair is my brow as the day. <br /> <br />Battle and war are my minions, <br />Doing my will as divine; <br />I am the calmer of passions, <br />Peace is a nursling of mine. <br /> <br />Speak to me gently or curse me, <br />Seek me or fly from my sight; <br />I am thy fool in the morning, <br />Thou art my slave in the night. <br /> <br />Down to the grave I will take thee, <br />Out from the noise of the strife, <br />Then shalt thou see me and know me-- <br />Death, then, no longer, but life. <br /> <br />Then shalt thou sing at my coming, <br />Kiss me with passionate breath, <br />Clasp me and smile to have thought me <br />Aught save the foeman of death. <br /> <br />Come to me, brother, when weary, <br />Come when thy lonely heart swells; <br />I'll guide thy footsteps and lead thee <br />Down where the Dream Woman dwells.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-paradox/
