#Americans #Blacks
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
