#AmericanWriters
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.
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
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
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,
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
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
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
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
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.
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
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
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers