Oh, I must keep my heart inviolate Against the potent poison of your hate. - Claude McKay

The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her with their eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.

I have forgotten much, but still remember
The poinsettia's red, blood-red in warm December.

Oh some I know! I have embalmed the days,
Even the sacred moments when we played,
All innocent of passion, uncorrupt,
At noon and evening in the flame-heart’s shade.