“
Storm Ending
— Jean Toomer
Storm Ending
No eyes that have seen beauty ever lose their sight.
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade
O singers, resinous and soft your songsBring dreams of Christ to dusky cane-lipped throngs.
Superstition sawBeauty so sudden for that time of year.
One seed becomesCaroling softly souls of slavery.
