Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart.
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Perhaps the greatest poet of the Harlem Renaissance; better than Langston Hughes, if not as accessible and joyful.
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start, Radiant, resplendently she gleams, Cloine dreams, Lips pressed against my heart.