Episode 28: Countee Cullen, Yet Do I Marvel

Countee Cullen was a major voice of the Harlem Renaissance. Joined by the renowned cultural critic Gerald Early, we here examine together story of Countee Cullen and the astounding sonnet that opens his main collection of poetry, My Soul's High Song.

For more on Countee Cullen, see the Poetry Foundation.

Here is the text of the sonnet:

Yet Do I Marvel

Countee Cullen

I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,

And did He stoop to quibble could tell why

The little buried mole continues blind,


Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,

Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus

Is baited by the fickle fruit, declare


If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus

To struggle up a never-ending stair.


Inscrutable His ways are, and immune


To catechism by a mind too strewn


With petty cares to slightly understand


What awful brain compels His awful hand.


Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:


To make a poet black, and bid him sing!

For the main collection of Countee Cullen's poetry, edited by Gerald Early, see My Soul's High Song.

Links:

• Countee Cullen | Poetry Foundation
• Yet Do I Marvel by Countee Cullen | Poetry Foundation
• My Soul's High Song: 9780385412957: Cullen, Countee: Books