{"id":60,"date":"2015-08-25T03:31:29","date_gmt":"2015-08-25T03:31:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528f15\/?page_id=60"},"modified":"2015-08-25T03:31:29","modified_gmt":"2015-08-25T03:31:29","slug":"langston-hughes","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528fa16\/texts\/langston-hughes\/","title":{"rendered":"Langston Hughes"},"content":{"rendered":"

“The Negro Speaks of Rivers” (1921)<\/strong><\/p>\n

I’ve known rivers:
\nI’ve known rivers ancient as the world
\nand older than the flow of human blood in human veins.<\/p>\n

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.<\/p>\n

I bathe in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
\nI built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
\nI looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
\nI heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
\nwent down to New Orleans,* and I’ve seen its muddy
\nbosom turn all golden in the sunset.<\/p>\n

I’ve known rivers:
\nAncient, dusky rivers.<\/p>\n

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.<\/p>\n

“I, Too, Sing America” (1926)<\/strong><\/p>\n

I, too, sing America.<\/p>\n

I am the darker brother.
\nThey send me to eat in the kitchen
\nWhen company comes,
\nBut I laugh,
\nAnd eat well,
\nAnd grow strong.<\/p>\n

Tomorrow,
\nI\u2019ll be at the table
\nWhen company comes.
\nNobody\u2019ll dare
\nSay to me,
\n\u201cEat in the kitchen,\u201d
\nThen.<\/p>\n

Besides,
\nThey\u2019ll see how beautiful I am
\nAnd be ashamed\u2014<\/p>\n

I, too, am America.<\/p>\n

“The Weary Blues” (1923)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
\nRocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
\nI heard a Negro play.
\nDown on Lenox Avenue the other night
\nBy the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
\nHe did a lazy sway . . .
\nHe did a lazy sway . . .
\nTo the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
\nWith his ebony hands on each ivory key
\nHe made that poor piano moan with melody.
\nO Blues!
\nSwaying to and fro on his rickety stool
\nHe played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
\nSweet Blues!
\nComing from a black man’s soul.
\nO Blues!
\nIn a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
\nI heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan–
\n“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
\nAin’t got nobody but ma self.
\nI’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
\nAnd put ma troubles on the shelf.”<\/p>\n

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
\nHe played a few chords then he sang some more–
\n“I got the Weary Blues
\nAnd I can’t be satisfied.
\nGot the Weary Blues
\nAnd can’t be satisfied–
\nI ain’t happy no mo’
\nAnd I wish that I had died.”
\nAnd far into the night he crooned that tune.
\nThe stars went out and so did the moon.
\nThe singer stopped playing and went to bed
\nWhile the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
\nHe slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.<\/p>\n

“Harlem” (1951)<\/strong><\/p>\n

What happens to a dream deferred?<\/p>\n

Does it dry up
\nlike a raisin in the sun?
\nOr fester like a sore\u2014
\nAnd then run?
\nDoes it stink like rotten meat?
\nOr crust and sugar over\u2014
\nlike a syrupy sweet?
\nMaybe it just sags
\nlike a heavy load.
\nOr does it explode?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“The Negro Speaks of Rivers” (1921) I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathe in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me<\/p>\n