#AmericanWriters
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
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 an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water