waiter. Kept on writing. The _Seven Arts Magazine_ took two of my poems in 1917. In 1918 Frank Harris published some poems in _Pearson’s_. In 1919 _The Liberator_ published some things. The same year I went to Holland, Belgium and England. Lived in London over a year. Published _Spring in New Hampshire_. Returned to America in 1921. Got a job with Max Eastman on the _Liberator_. Kept it till Max Eastman left for Europe. Went to Russia in 1922. _Harlem Shadows_ published 1922 by Harcourt, Brace & Co. Stayed six months in Moscow and Petrograd. Berlin in 1923. Paris at the end of 1923, where I was very ill for months. Been in France ever since trying to exist and write.” AMERICA[11] Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth, Stealing my breath of life, I will confess I love this cultured hell that tests my youth! Her vigor flows like tides into my blood, Giving me strength erect against her hate. Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood. Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state, I stand within her walls with not a shred Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer. Darkly I gaze into the days ahead, And see her might and granite wonders there, Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand, Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand. _Claude McKay_ EXHORTATION: SUMMER, 1919[12] Through the pregnant universe rumbles life’s terrific thunder, And Earth’s bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break, Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder: Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave’s disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for dim centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes! Oh the night is sweet for sleeping, but the shining day’s for working; Sons of the seductive night, for your children’s children’s sake, From the deep primeval forests where the crouching leopard’s lurking, Lift your heavy-lidded eyes, Ethiopia! awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave’s disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes! FLAME-HEART[13]