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His strong, coal-black hands crumpling and twisting his faded old hat, the thirty-year-old Adoons said in a quiet but firm voice to his employer, Mr. Waldman, the produce dealer,
“Baas, I’m finishing…
There are things in this country too—
And if they find no streetlamp pole,
There will be a tree—and that means clearly
That a Negro over twenty years old
May hate all things which spire
To hold a man…