Color (Cullen)/Dialogue

by Countee Cullen

Dialogue

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

Body:But leaves the body bare to feedBody: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 fedSoul: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 deadSoul:With singing stars to crown his head.

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