Claude McKay (in Associate Negro Press story about Charles Chaplin, who writes, “Reading a few of his gems, my annoyances seem puny and almost childish”); Philadelphia Tribune, November 12, 1921
His spirit in smoke ascended to high Heaven.
His Father by the cruelest way of pain,
Had bidden him to His bosom once again;
The awful sin remained still unforgiven.

All night a bright and solitary star
(Perchance the one that ever guided him,
Yet gave him up at last to fate’s wild whim)
Hung pitifully o’er the swinging char.
Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came
To view the ghastly body swaying in the sun.
The women thronged to look, but never a one
Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;
And little lads, lynchers that were to be
Danced round the dreadful thing in glee.