At night the wide and level stretch of wold,
Which at high noon had basked in quiet gold,
Far as the eye could see was ghostly white;
Dark was the night save for the snow's weird light.

I drew the shades far down, crept into bed;
Hearing the cold wind moaning overhead
Through the sad pines, my soul, catching its pain,
Went sorrowing with it across the plain.

At dawn, behold! the pall of night was gone,
Save where a few shrubs melancholy, lone,
Detained a fragile shadow. Golden-lipped
The laughing grasses heaven's sweet wine sipped.

The sun rose smiling o'er the river's breast,
And my soul, by his happy spirit blest,
Soared like a bird to greet him in the sky,
And drew out of his heart Eternity.


About this poem
"Morning Joy" was published in Claude McKay's book "Harlem Shadows" (Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1922).

About Claude McKay
Claude McKay was born in Jamaica in 1889. An influential figure to the poets of the Harlem Renaissance, his works include "Constab Ballad" (Watts, 1912) and "Songs of Jamaica" (Aston W. Gardner, 1912). McKay died in 1948.

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This poem is in the public domain. Distributed by King Features Syndicate