#AmericanWriters
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
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
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 —
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.
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
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…
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,