Saturday’s Child BY COUNTEE CULLEN Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black raccoon— For implements of battle. Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown On a night that was black as tar. For some, godfather and goddame The...Learn More