Locked arm in arm they cross the way,
  The black boy and the white,
The golden splendor of the day,
  The sable pride of night.

From lowered blinds the dark folk stare,
  And here the fair folk talk,
Indignant that these two should dare
  In unison to walk.

Oblivious to look and work
  They pass, and see no wonder
That lightning  brilliant as a sword
  Should blaze the path of thunder.

(from Color, 1925)

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