#AmericanWriters
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.
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
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…
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
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.
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
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
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…
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.
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.