Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:

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

From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur

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

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…

How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,

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

The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,