#AmericanWriters
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
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,
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 —
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right