| James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922. |
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| The Tired Worker |
| | | Claude McKay (1890–1948) |
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| O WHISPER, O my soul!—the afternoon | |
| Is waning into evening—whisper soft! | |
| Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon | |
| From out its misty veil will swing aloft! | |
| Be patient, weary body, soon the night | 5 |
| Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet, | |
| And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite | |
| To rest thy tired hands and aching feet. | |
| The wretched day was theirs, the night is mine; | |
| Come, tender sleep, and fold me to thy breast. | 10 |
| But what steals out the gray clouds red like wine? | |
| O dawn! O dreaded dawn! O let me rest! | |
| Weary my veins, my brain, my life,—have pity! | |
| No! Once again the hard, the ugly city. | |
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