#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
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
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
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
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.
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
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—
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,