#AmericanWriters
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
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…
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
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
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
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 —