Nocturne by Countee Cullen

Nocturne 




Tell me all things false are true,
Bitter sweet, that false are wise;
I will not doubt nor question you;                               
I am in a mood for lies.

Tell me all things ill turn good;                   
Thew and sinew will be stronger
Thriving on the deadly food
Life proffers for their hunger.

Paint love lovely, if you will;
Be crafty, sly, deceptive;
Here is fertile land to till,
Sun seeking, rain receptive.

Hold my hand and lie to me;
I will not ask you How nor Why;
I see death drawing nigh to me
Out of the ciorner of my eye.


BY : Countee Cullen

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