Here I sit
With my shoes mismated.
Lawdy—mercy!
I’s frustrated!

I catch the pattern
Of your silence
Before you speak
I do not need
To hear a word.

Now dreams
Are not available
To the dreamers,
Nor songs
To the singers.

The rent man knocked.
He said, Howdy—do?
I said, What
Can I do for you?
He said, You know

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 —

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

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the w
My soul has grown deep like the ri
I bathed in the Euphrates when da
I built my hut near the Congo and

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,

Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red —
Cause there ain’t no sense
In my bein’ dead.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams