I’m folding up my little dreams
Within my heart tonight,
And praying I may soon forget
The torture of their sight.
For time’s deft fingers scroll my brow
With fell relentless art—
I’m folding up my little dreams
Tonight, within my heart.
1918
Shorty
Harlem Renaissance
2023
Faith & Hope
Strength & Resilience
End Rhyme
when a poem has lines ending with words that sound the same
Personification
the attribution of human qualities to a non-human thing
Repetition
a recurrence of the same word or phrase two or more times