This poem also appeared in The Liberator (December, 1921): [*] Claude McKay Thirst The Liberator (December, 1921): 9 .
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water,;* fresh rain rains* shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals graygrey*-white through the window-pane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered and stupefied of* brain;
Pure water from a some* forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!