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by Claude McKay, 1922

Nay, why reproach each other, be unkind,
  For there's no plane on which we two may meet?
Let's both forgive, forget, for both were blind,
  And life is of a day, and time is fleet.

And I am fire, swift to flame and burn,
  Melting with elements high overhead,
While you are water in an earthly urn,
  All pure, but heavy, and of hue like lead.

Published in Harlem Shadows

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