#AmericanWriters
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
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 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,
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
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
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
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,
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
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 am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
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,
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—