Copper Sun (Cullen)/Ultimatum

by Countee Cullen

Ultimatum

I HOLD not with the fatalist creedOf what must be must be;There is enough to meet my needIn this most meagre me.

These two slim arms were made to reinMy steed, to ward and fend;There is more gold in this small brainThan I can ever spend.

The seed I plant is chosen well;Ambushed by no sly sweven,I plant it if it droops to hell,Or if it blooms to heaven.