#AmericanWriters
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—
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
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.
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
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 woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
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.
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.