Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc.
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| Poems | 
 
  
    
While others may talk and preach a good game 
      There`s only one fraternity that lives up to its name; 
    Manly deeds, scholarship, and love for all mankind, 
         Respect for womanhood,  her   body and her mind!! 
    It`s not hard to guess which fraternity it is 
    That to each of its principles all members must live; 
    Many have tried to Kopy its brotherhood, its greatness, and love 
    But the original, the 1 - 9 - 0 - 6, will always stand above; 
    A Devil can`t be a captain, a master, - a dog will always possess 
    But an will  be the  and nothing less. 
    It`s not about being pretty, although the ladies do love our style 
    It`s not about ignorance, though we know how to get wild; 
    The meaning, the richness you will never know 
    Unless the sands you cross, are burning like snow; 
    
No matter how hard you try, 
      there will always, one original be. 
    No matter how hard you lie, everyone will very clearly see; 
    ALPHA PHI ALPHA's  the father of the male Pan-Hellenic 
    The rest are just around because we let you in it; 
    We needed somewhere to send those not worthy of the light 
    But were still men, at least in their own right; 
    So to Kappa, Sigma, Que, and Iota... WHO?, oh, 
    onward they still go 
    Their sands may be burning, 
    but the Iciness of the snow, 
    they`ll never know. 
    
"Burning Like Snow"
    
There goes the best man in or out for he's an Alpha Man.
    
    
    
          
“Don’t Quit”
The Plough
MY HAND IS ON THE PLOUGH, MY FAULTERING HAND, 
    AND ALL THIS BEFORE ME, IS UN-TILT LAND. 
  
THE WILDERNESS, IN IT’S SOLITARY PLACE. 
    THE LONELY DESERT WITH IT’S INNER SPACE. 
  
THE HANDLE OF MY PLOUGH WITH TEARS GETS WET, 
    THE SHEARS WITH RUST ARE SPOILED. 
  
AND YET, AND YET, MY GOD, MY GOD, 
    KEEP ME FROM TURNING BACK! 
  
THE PLOUGH. 
  
 
  
Invictus
by: William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged withpunishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.