#Americans #Blacks
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
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 catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
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.
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…
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
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur