#AmericanWriters
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,