Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
Countee Cullen
In this poem, Cullen takes on a convincing tone to persuade that there exists some form of comfort in death. The poem also may make one look at it in the Didactic fashion: “You will learn from the wise (who happen to be dead) – so maybe this is what the living should do”
Every line rhyme perfectly...
Dead men are wisest, for they know
How far the roots of flowers go,
How long a seed must rot to grow.
Dead men alone bear frost and rain
On throbless heart and heatless brain,
And feel no stir of joy or pain.
Dead men alone are satiate;
They sleep and dream and have no weight,
To curb their rest, of love or hate.
Strange, men should flee their company,
Or think me strange who long to be
Wrapped in their cool immunity.