THE HARLEM DANCER by Claude McKay.

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players on a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through the storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place…

Reference:
Claude McKay

Category: Rituals: Music, Dance, Sports,