This file is produced from the material at Harlem Shadows: A Digital Edition December 6, 2015 Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommerical 4.0 International This file is generated from a master file containing the text of Claude McKay's 1922 collection of poems and related documents (other appearances of McKay's poems, reviews, and related material). The base text for this file is drawn from the item listed below. Claude McKay New York Harcourt, Brace, and Company 1922 87 French Leave No servile little fear shall daunt my will This morning. I have courage steeled to say I will be lazy, conqueringly still, I will not lose the hours in toil this day. The roaring world without, careless of souls, Shall leave me to my placid dream of rest, My four walls shield me from its shouting ghouls, And all its hates have fled my quiet breast. And I will loll here resting, wide awake, Dead to the world of work, the world of love, I laze contented just for dreaming's sake With not the slightest urge to think or move. How tired unto death, how tired I was! Now for a day I put my burdens by, And like a child amidst the meadow grass Under the southern sun, I languid lie And feel the bed about me kindly deep, My strength ooze gently from my hollow bones, My worried brain drift aimlessly to sleep, Like softening to a song of tuneful tones.