Color (Cullen)/Dialogue

by Countee Cullen

Dialogue

Soul:THERE is no stronger thing than song;
In sun and rain and leafy trees
Soul:It wafts the timid soul along
Soul:On crested waves of melodies.

Body:But leaves the body bare to feed
Body:Its hunger with its very need.

Soul:Although the frenzied belly writhes,
Soul:Yet render up in song your tithes;
Soul:Song is the weakling's oaken rod,
Soul:His Jacob's ladder dropped from God.

Body:Song is not drink; song is not meat,
Body:Nor strong, thick shoes for naked feet.

Soul:Who sings by unseen hands is fed
Soul:With honeyed milk and warm, white bread;
Soul:His ways in pastures green are led,
Soul:And perfumed oil illumes his head;
Soul:His cup with wine is surfeited,
Soul:And when the last low note is read,
Soul:He sings among the lipless dead
Soul:With singing stars to crown his head.

Body:But will song buy a wooden box
Body:The length of me from toe to crown,
Body:To keep me safe from carrion flocks
Body:When singing’s done and lyre laid down?