#AmericanWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
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
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
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.
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
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.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams