I
Die, you vain but sweet desires!
Die, you living, burning fires!
I am like a prince of France, –
Like a prince whose noble sires
Have been robbed of heritage;
I am phantom derelict,
Drifting on a flaming sea.
II
Everywhere I go, I strive,
Vainly strive for greater things;
Daisies die, and stars are cold,
And canary never sings;
Where I go they mock my name,
Never grant me liberty,
Chance to breathe and chance to do.
Fenton Johnson
(Fenton Johnson)
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