Children's Rhymes, by Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes

Children's Rhymes

By what sends

the white kids

I ain’t sent:

I know I can’t

be President.

What don’t bug

them white kids

sure bugs me:

We know everybody

ain’t free.

Lies written down

for white folks

ain’t for us a—tall:

Liberty And Justice—

Huh!—For All?

#Americans #Blacks

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A Mother with her Son and a Pony, by Agostino Brunias

Mother to Son

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,

Me and the Mule

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 —

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How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water

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Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt

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Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass

Madam and Her Madam

I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,

I, Too

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,

Cultural Exchange

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

Lincoln Monument: Washington

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…

I Continue to Dream

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,

Park Bench

I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—

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I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand

Still Here

been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done

Remember

Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill

Minstrel Man

Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think

Langston Hughes