The lightning’s flash, the thunder’s peal
Convinces me that God is real;
And it’s a wondrous thing to feel
That he is really near.
Of the manifold and immense significance of poetry as a form of spiritual expression the Negro American has lately become profoundly aware, as this presentation must amply reveal. Not only the industrial arts are the objects of his ambition, according to the far-looking doctrine of Tuskegee, but as well those arts which are born of and express the spiritual traits of mankind, the fine arts—music, painting, sculpture, dramatics, and poetry. In them all the Negro is winning distinction. In consequence it would seem that there must dawn upon us, shaped by the poems of this collection, a new vision of the Negro and a new appreciation of his spiritual qualities, his human character. A profounder human sympathy with a greatly hampered, handicapped, and humiliated people must also ensue from such considerations as these poems will induce. One of the poets here represented cries out, as if from a calvary, “We come slow-struggling up the hills of Hell.” Another, in milder but not less appealing tone, cries: “We climb the slopes of life with throbbing hearts.”
This appeal, expressed or implicit throughout the entire range of present-day Negro verse, an appeal sometimes angrily, sometimes plaintively
