EDWARD S. SILVERA
Reading edition
I was born in Florida in the year 1906—moved to Orange, N. J., at an early age—graduated from Orange High School in 1924—am now a Junior at Lincoln University, Pennsylvania. Here I am a member of the varsity basket-ball and tennis teams and a member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity.
I get a great deal of pleasure out of observing life and then writing about it just as I see it.
SOUTH STREET
(Philadelphia, Pa.)
South Street is not beautiful, But the songs of people there Hold the beauty of the jungle, And the fervidness of prayer. South Street has no mansions, But the hands of South Street men Built pyramids along the Nile That Time has failed to rend. South Street is America, Breast of the foster mother Where a thousand ill-kept children Vie for suck, with one another.
JUNGLE TASTE
There is a coarseness In the songs of black men Coarse as the songs Of the sea, There is a weird strangeness In the songs of black men Which sounds not strange To me. There is beauty In the faces of black women, Jungle beauty And mystery Dark hidden beauty In the faces of black women, Which only black men See.