#AmericanWriters
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
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
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…
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
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.