#AmericanWriters
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
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.
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…