American Literature 4

1

P e b La H e

T e Ne S ea R e By Langston Hughes (1921)

I e kno n i e : I e kno n i e ancien a he o ld and olde han he flo of h man blood in h man ein . My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln en do n o Ne O lean , and I e een

its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I e kno n i e : Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

2

M e S By Langston Hughes (1922)

Well, on, I ll ell o : Life fo me ain been no c al ai . I had ack in i , And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor Bare. But all the time I e been a-climbin on, And eachin landin , And nin co ne , And ome ime goin in he da k Whe e he e ain been no ligh . So bo , don o n back. Don o e do n on he e Ca e o find i kinde ha d.

Don o fall no Fo I e ill goin , hone , I e ill climbin , And life fo me ain been no c al ai .

3

I, T By Langston Hughes (1925)

I, too, sing America. 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 be a he able When company comes. Nobod ll da e Say to me, Ea in he ki chen,

Then. Besides, The ll ee ho bea if l I am And be ashamed I, too, am America.

4

T e Wea B e By Langston Hughes (1925)

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway. . . . He did a lazy sway. . . . To he ne o ho e Wea Bl e . With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made that poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming f om a black man o l. O Blues! In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan Ain go nobod in all hi o ld,

Ain go nobod b ma elf. I g ine o i ma f o nin And ma o ble on he helf. Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more I go he Wea Bl es

And I can be a i fied. Got the Weary Blues And can be a i fied I ain ha no mo And I i h ha I had died. And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon. The singer stopped playing and went to bed While the Weary Blues echoed through his head. He le like a ock o a man ha dead.

5

Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?