BuckWheath

BuckWheath

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Shakespeare was not a Negroe.
But do thy worst to steal thy face away,
For term of life thou art blackly ebonly mine,
And my facebook life no longer than thy face shall stay this way.
For it depends upon that long long face of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrong the negro song,
When in the most of them my life hath no dark or blackened end.
I see a better state to me belongs in Alabama in the springtime
Than that which on thy dark side of depression liffting doth depend;
Thou canst not vex me with thy negroid mind,
Since that my life on thy watermelon rind doth lie.
O, what a happy picnic fantasy do I finally do find,
Happy to have thy chicken leg, happy to die!
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no android song
Thou mayst be false white, and yet I know it not. ?
William CharlaX Shakespeare
XC11
XCII
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.