#AmericanWriters
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
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
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
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.