OUR LANDOUR LANDPoem for a Decorative PanelWe should have a land of sun,Of gorgeous sun,And a land of fragrant waterWhere the twilightIs a soft bandanna handkerchiefOf rose and gold,And not this land where life is cold.We should have a land of trees,Of tall thick treesBowed down with chattering parrotsBrilliant as the day,And not this land where birds are grey.Ah, we should have a land of joy,Of love and joy and wine and song,And not this land where joy is wrong.Oh, sweet, away!Ah, my beloved one, away!LAMENT FOR DARK PEOPLESI was a red man one time,But the white men came.I was a black man, too,But the white men came.They drove me out of the forest.They took me away from the jungles.I lost my trees.I lost my silver moons.Now they’ve caged meIn the circus of civilization.Now I herd with the many—Caged in the circus of civilization.AFRAIDWe cry among the skyscrapersAs our ancestorsCried among the palms in AfricaBecause we are alone,It is night,And we’re afraid.POEMFor the portrait of an African boy after the manner of GauguinAll the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.I am afraid of this civilization—So hard,So strong,So cold.SUMMER NIGHTThe soundsOf the Harlem nightDrop one by one into stillness.The last player-piano is closed.The last victrola ceases with the“Jazz Boy Blues.”The last crying baby sleepsAnd the night becomesStill as a whispering heartbeat.I tossWithout rest in the darkness,Weary as the tired night,My soulEmpty as the silence,Empty with a vague,Aching emptiness,Desiring,Needing someone,Something.I toss without restIn the darknessUntil the new dawn,Wan and pale,Descends like a white mistInto the court-yard.DISILLUSIONI would be simple again,Simple and cleanLike the earth,Like the rain,Nor ever know,Dark Harlem,The wild laughterOf your mirthNor the salt tearsOf your pain.Be kind to me,Oh, great dark city.Let me forget.I will not comeTo you again.DANSE AFRICAINEThe low beating of the tom-toms,The slow beating of the tom-toms.Low ... slowSlow ... low—Stirs your blood.Dance!A night-veiled girlWhirls softly into aCircle of light.Whirls softly ... slowly,Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—And the tom-toms beat,And the tom-toms beat,And the low beating of the tom-tomsStirs your blood.THE WHITE ONESI do not hate you,For your faces are beautiful, too.I do not hate you,Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.Yet why do you torture me,O, white strong ones,Why do you torture me?MOTHER TO SONWell, son, I’ll tell you:Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.It’s had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.But all the timeI’se been a-cimbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere there ain’t been no light.So boy, don’t you turn back.Don’t you set down on the steps’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.Don’t you fall now—For I’se still goin’, honey,I’se still climbin’,And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.POEMWe have tomorrowBright before usLike a flame.YesterdayA night-gone thing,A sun-down name.And dawn-todayBroad arch above the road we came.EPILOGUEI, too, sing America.I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—I, too, am America.
OUR LAND
OUR LANDPoem for a Decorative PanelWe should have a land of sun,Of gorgeous sun,And a land of fragrant waterWhere the twilightIs a soft bandanna handkerchiefOf rose and gold,And not this land where life is cold.We should have a land of trees,Of tall thick treesBowed down with chattering parrotsBrilliant as the day,And not this land where birds are grey.Ah, we should have a land of joy,Of love and joy and wine and song,And not this land where joy is wrong.Oh, sweet, away!Ah, my beloved one, away!
Poem for a Decorative Panel
We should have a land of sun,Of gorgeous sun,And a land of fragrant waterWhere the twilightIs a soft bandanna handkerchiefOf rose and gold,And not this land where life is cold.We should have a land of trees,Of tall thick treesBowed down with chattering parrotsBrilliant as the day,And not this land where birds are grey.Ah, we should have a land of joy,Of love and joy and wine and song,And not this land where joy is wrong.Oh, sweet, away!Ah, my beloved one, away!
We should have a land of sun,Of gorgeous sun,And a land of fragrant waterWhere the twilightIs a soft bandanna handkerchiefOf rose and gold,And not this land where life is cold.We should have a land of trees,Of tall thick treesBowed down with chattering parrotsBrilliant as the day,And not this land where birds are grey.Ah, we should have a land of joy,Of love and joy and wine and song,And not this land where joy is wrong.Oh, sweet, away!Ah, my beloved one, away!
We should have a land of sun,Of gorgeous sun,And a land of fragrant waterWhere the twilightIs a soft bandanna handkerchiefOf rose and gold,And not this land where life is cold.
We should have a land of sun,
Of gorgeous sun,
And a land of fragrant water
Where the twilight
Is a soft bandanna handkerchief
Of rose and gold,
And not this land where life is cold.
We should have a land of trees,Of tall thick treesBowed down with chattering parrotsBrilliant as the day,And not this land where birds are grey.
We should have a land of trees,
Of tall thick trees
Bowed down with chattering parrots
Brilliant as the day,
And not this land where birds are grey.
Ah, we should have a land of joy,Of love and joy and wine and song,And not this land where joy is wrong.
Ah, we should have a land of joy,
Of love and joy and wine and song,
And not this land where joy is wrong.
Oh, sweet, away!Ah, my beloved one, away!
Oh, sweet, away!
Ah, my beloved one, away!
LAMENT FOR DARK PEOPLESI was a red man one time,But the white men came.I was a black man, too,But the white men came.They drove me out of the forest.They took me away from the jungles.I lost my trees.I lost my silver moons.Now they’ve caged meIn the circus of civilization.Now I herd with the many—Caged in the circus of civilization.
I was a red man one time,But the white men came.I was a black man, too,But the white men came.They drove me out of the forest.They took me away from the jungles.I lost my trees.I lost my silver moons.Now they’ve caged meIn the circus of civilization.Now I herd with the many—Caged in the circus of civilization.
I was a red man one time,But the white men came.I was a black man, too,But the white men came.They drove me out of the forest.They took me away from the jungles.I lost my trees.I lost my silver moons.Now they’ve caged meIn the circus of civilization.Now I herd with the many—Caged in the circus of civilization.
I was a red man one time,But the white men came.I was a black man, too,But the white men came.
I was a red man one time,
But the white men came.
I was a black man, too,
But the white men came.
They drove me out of the forest.They took me away from the jungles.I lost my trees.I lost my silver moons.
They drove me out of the forest.
They took me away from the jungles.
I lost my trees.
I lost my silver moons.
Now they’ve caged meIn the circus of civilization.Now I herd with the many—Caged in the circus of civilization.
Now they’ve caged me
In the circus of civilization.
Now I herd with the many—
Caged in the circus of civilization.
AFRAIDWe cry among the skyscrapersAs our ancestorsCried among the palms in AfricaBecause we are alone,It is night,And we’re afraid.
We cry among the skyscrapersAs our ancestorsCried among the palms in AfricaBecause we are alone,It is night,And we’re afraid.
We cry among the skyscrapersAs our ancestorsCried among the palms in AfricaBecause we are alone,It is night,And we’re afraid.
We cry among the skyscrapersAs our ancestorsCried among the palms in AfricaBecause we are alone,It is night,And we’re afraid.
We cry among the skyscrapers
As our ancestors
Cried among the palms in Africa
Because we are alone,
It is night,
And we’re afraid.
POEMFor the portrait of an African boy after the manner of GauguinAll the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.I am afraid of this civilization—So hard,So strong,So cold.
For the portrait of an African boy after the manner of Gauguin
All the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.I am afraid of this civilization—So hard,So strong,So cold.
All the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.I am afraid of this civilization—So hard,So strong,So cold.
All the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.I am afraid of this civilization—So hard,So strong,So cold.
All the tom-toms of the jungles beat in my blood,
And all the wild hot moons of the jungles shine in my soul.
I am afraid of this civilization—
So hard,
So strong,
So cold.
SUMMER NIGHTThe soundsOf the Harlem nightDrop one by one into stillness.The last player-piano is closed.The last victrola ceases with the“Jazz Boy Blues.”The last crying baby sleepsAnd the night becomesStill as a whispering heartbeat.I tossWithout rest in the darkness,Weary as the tired night,My soulEmpty as the silence,Empty with a vague,Aching emptiness,Desiring,Needing someone,Something.I toss without restIn the darknessUntil the new dawn,Wan and pale,Descends like a white mistInto the court-yard.
The soundsOf the Harlem nightDrop one by one into stillness.The last player-piano is closed.The last victrola ceases with the“Jazz Boy Blues.”The last crying baby sleepsAnd the night becomesStill as a whispering heartbeat.I tossWithout rest in the darkness,Weary as the tired night,My soulEmpty as the silence,Empty with a vague,Aching emptiness,Desiring,Needing someone,Something.I toss without restIn the darknessUntil the new dawn,Wan and pale,Descends like a white mistInto the court-yard.
The soundsOf the Harlem nightDrop one by one into stillness.The last player-piano is closed.The last victrola ceases with the“Jazz Boy Blues.”The last crying baby sleepsAnd the night becomesStill as a whispering heartbeat.I tossWithout rest in the darkness,Weary as the tired night,My soulEmpty as the silence,Empty with a vague,Aching emptiness,Desiring,Needing someone,Something.I toss without restIn the darknessUntil the new dawn,Wan and pale,Descends like a white mistInto the court-yard.
The soundsOf the Harlem nightDrop one by one into stillness.The last player-piano is closed.The last victrola ceases with the“Jazz Boy Blues.”The last crying baby sleepsAnd the night becomesStill as a whispering heartbeat.I tossWithout rest in the darkness,Weary as the tired night,My soulEmpty as the silence,Empty with a vague,Aching emptiness,Desiring,Needing someone,Something.
The sounds
Of the Harlem night
Drop one by one into stillness.
The last player-piano is closed.
The last victrola ceases with the
“Jazz Boy Blues.”
The last crying baby sleeps
And the night becomes
Still as a whispering heartbeat.
I toss
Without rest in the darkness,
Weary as the tired night,
My soul
Empty as the silence,
Empty with a vague,
Aching emptiness,
Desiring,
Needing someone,
Something.
I toss without restIn the darknessUntil the new dawn,Wan and pale,Descends like a white mistInto the court-yard.
I toss without rest
In the darkness
Until the new dawn,
Wan and pale,
Descends like a white mist
Into the court-yard.
DISILLUSIONI would be simple again,Simple and cleanLike the earth,Like the rain,Nor ever know,Dark Harlem,The wild laughterOf your mirthNor the salt tearsOf your pain.Be kind to me,Oh, great dark city.Let me forget.I will not comeTo you again.
I would be simple again,Simple and cleanLike the earth,Like the rain,Nor ever know,Dark Harlem,The wild laughterOf your mirthNor the salt tearsOf your pain.Be kind to me,Oh, great dark city.Let me forget.I will not comeTo you again.
I would be simple again,Simple and cleanLike the earth,Like the rain,Nor ever know,Dark Harlem,The wild laughterOf your mirthNor the salt tearsOf your pain.Be kind to me,Oh, great dark city.Let me forget.I will not comeTo you again.
I would be simple again,Simple and cleanLike the earth,Like the rain,Nor ever know,Dark Harlem,The wild laughterOf your mirthNor the salt tearsOf your pain.Be kind to me,Oh, great dark city.Let me forget.I will not comeTo you again.
I would be simple again,
Simple and clean
Like the earth,
Like the rain,
Nor ever know,
Dark Harlem,
The wild laughter
Of your mirth
Nor the salt tears
Of your pain.
Be kind to me,
Oh, great dark city.
Let me forget.
I will not come
To you again.
DANSE AFRICAINEThe low beating of the tom-toms,The slow beating of the tom-toms.Low ... slowSlow ... low—Stirs your blood.Dance!A night-veiled girlWhirls softly into aCircle of light.Whirls softly ... slowly,Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—And the tom-toms beat,And the tom-toms beat,And the low beating of the tom-tomsStirs your blood.
The low beating of the tom-toms,The slow beating of the tom-toms.Low ... slowSlow ... low—Stirs your blood.Dance!A night-veiled girlWhirls softly into aCircle of light.Whirls softly ... slowly,Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—And the tom-toms beat,And the tom-toms beat,And the low beating of the tom-tomsStirs your blood.
The low beating of the tom-toms,The slow beating of the tom-toms.Low ... slowSlow ... low—Stirs your blood.Dance!A night-veiled girlWhirls softly into aCircle of light.Whirls softly ... slowly,Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—And the tom-toms beat,And the tom-toms beat,And the low beating of the tom-tomsStirs your blood.
The low beating of the tom-toms,The slow beating of the tom-toms.Low ... slowSlow ... low—Stirs your blood.Dance!A night-veiled girlWhirls softly into aCircle of light.Whirls softly ... slowly,Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—And the tom-toms beat,And the tom-toms beat,And the low beating of the tom-tomsStirs your blood.
The low beating of the tom-toms,
The slow beating of the tom-toms.
Low ... slow
Slow ... low—
Stirs your blood.
Dance!
A night-veiled girl
Whirls softly into a
Circle of light.
Whirls softly ... slowly,
Like a wisp of smoke around the fire—
And the tom-toms beat,
And the tom-toms beat,
And the low beating of the tom-toms
Stirs your blood.
THE WHITE ONESI do not hate you,For your faces are beautiful, too.I do not hate you,Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.Yet why do you torture me,O, white strong ones,Why do you torture me?
I do not hate you,For your faces are beautiful, too.I do not hate you,Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.Yet why do you torture me,O, white strong ones,Why do you torture me?
I do not hate you,For your faces are beautiful, too.I do not hate you,Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.Yet why do you torture me,O, white strong ones,Why do you torture me?
I do not hate you,For your faces are beautiful, too.I do not hate you,Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.Yet why do you torture me,O, white strong ones,Why do you torture me?
I do not hate you,
For your faces are beautiful, too.
I do not hate you,
Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too.
Yet why do you torture me,
O, white strong ones,
Why do you torture me?
MOTHER TO SONWell, son, I’ll tell you:Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.It’s had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.But all the timeI’se been a-cimbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere there ain’t been no light.So boy, don’t you turn back.Don’t you set down on the steps’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.Don’t you fall now—For I’se still goin’, honey,I’se still climbin’,And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Well, son, I’ll tell you:Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.It’s had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.But all the timeI’se been a-cimbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere there ain’t been no light.So boy, don’t you turn back.Don’t you set down on the steps’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.Don’t you fall now—For I’se still goin’, honey,I’se still climbin’,And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Well, son, I’ll tell you:Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.It’s had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.But all the timeI’se been a-cimbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere there ain’t been no light.So boy, don’t you turn back.Don’t you set down on the steps’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.Don’t you fall now—For I’se still goin’, honey,I’se still climbin’,And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Well, son, I’ll tell you:Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.It’s had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.But all the timeI’se been a-cimbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere there ain’t been no light.So boy, don’t you turn back.Don’t you set down on the steps’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.Don’t you fall now—For I’se still goin’, honey,I’se still climbin’,And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-cimbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
POEMWe have tomorrowBright before usLike a flame.YesterdayA night-gone thing,A sun-down name.And dawn-todayBroad arch above the road we came.
We have tomorrowBright before usLike a flame.YesterdayA night-gone thing,A sun-down name.And dawn-todayBroad arch above the road we came.
We have tomorrowBright before usLike a flame.YesterdayA night-gone thing,A sun-down name.And dawn-todayBroad arch above the road we came.
We have tomorrowBright before usLike a flame.
We have tomorrow
Bright before us
Like a flame.
YesterdayA night-gone thing,A sun-down name.
Yesterday
A night-gone thing,
A sun-down name.
And dawn-todayBroad arch above the road we came.
And dawn-today
Broad arch above the road we came.
EPILOGUEI, too, sing America.I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—I, too, am America.
I, too, sing America.I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—I, too, am America.
I, too, sing America.I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—I, too, am America.
I, too, sing America.
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.
Tomorrow,
I’ll sit at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—
Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed,—
I, too, am America.
I, too, am America.