#AmericanWriters
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
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 —
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
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
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
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—
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
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…