#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
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
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
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
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…
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da…
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…
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria: