O water, voice of my heart, crying in the sand, All night long crying with a mournful cry, As I lie and listen, and cannot understand The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea, O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?
Du Bois uses poetic imagery to express the longing and confusion of the heart.
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So wofully unorganized is sociological knowledge that the meaning of progress, the meaning of “swift” and “slow” in human doing, and the limits of human perfectability, are veiled, unanswered sphinxes on the shores of science.
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Such an assumption is the arrogance of peoples irreverent toward Time and ignorant of the deeds of men.
Our song, our toil, our cheer, and warning have been given to this nation in blood-brotherhood.