#AmericanWriters
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
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…
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
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 —
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
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…
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks