Ghost rains sweep down, smearing his rugged sides, yet on he writhes, undulant with pine and palm, gleaming until his low, sharp head and lambent tongue, grown gray and pale and silver in the dying day, kisses the molten gold of the golden sea.
Du Bois employs rich imagery to depict the beauty and complexity of nature, symbolizing deeper themes of life and transformation.
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More from W.E.B. Du Bois
This, then, is the end of his striving: to be a co-worker in the kingdom of culture, to escape both death and isolation, to husband and use his best powers and his latent genius.
Away with the black man’s ballot, by force or fraud,—and behold the suicide of a race!
The direct result of this system is an all-cotton scheme of agriculture and the continued bankruptcy of the tenant.
The Nation has not yet found peace from its sins; the freedman has not yet found in freedom his promised land.