Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes

1902–1967 · lived 65 years US US

James Mercer Langston Hughes was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist who was the central figure of the Harlem Renaissance. His powerful and accessible poetry often captured the experiences, joys, and struggles of Black Americans, using rhythms and language drawn from blues and jazz music. Hughes celebrated Black culture and identity, advocating for racial equality and social justice throughout his prolific career. His work remains deeply influential, continuing to resonate with readers for its authenticity, musicality, and enduring message of hope and resilience.

n. 1902-02-01, Joplin · m. 1967-05-22, Nova Iorque

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Wisdom and War

Wisdom and War

We do not care-
That much is clear.
Not enough
Of us care
Anywhere.
We are not wise-
For that reason,
Mankind dies.
To think
Is much against
The will.
Better-
And easier-
To kill.
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

James Mercer Langston Hughes was an American poet, social-class activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist. He is widely regarded as a central figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Born in Joplin, Missouri, he later established his primary residence in Harlem, New York City. Hughes wrote in English and became a powerful voice for Black Americans.

Childhood and education

Hughes's childhood was marked by frequent moves and instability. He attended high school in Cleveland, Ohio, where he began writing poetry. He briefly attended Columbia University in New York City but felt more connected to the vibrant cultural life of Harlem. He graduated from Lincoln University, a historically black college, where he continued to develop his writing.

Literary trajectory

Hughes's literary career began to flourish in the 1920s during the Harlem Renaissance. His first collection of poetry, The Weary Blues (1926), was critically acclaimed and established his distinctive voice. He went on to publish numerous poetry collections, novels, plays, essays, and an autobiography. He also worked as a journalist and editor, further solidifying his influence.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Hughes's major works include The Weary Blues, Fine Clothes to the Jew, The Dream Keeper and Other Poems, and Montage of a Dream Deferred. His poetry is characterized by its focus on the lives and experiences of ordinary Black Americans, its use of blues and jazz rhythms, and its accessible language. Themes include racial injustice, the dreams and struggles of Black people, the beauty of Black culture, and the search for identity. His style is often described as lyrical, musical, and direct. He embraced various forms, from traditional verse to free verse, incorporating colloquialisms and African American vernacular.

Cultural and historical context

Hughes was a pivotal figure during the Harlem Renaissance, a period of immense artistic and intellectual flowering for Black Americans in the 1920s and 1930s. He actively engaged with the social and political issues of his time, including racism, economic inequality, and the fight for civil rights. His work reflects the Great Migration, the urban experiences of Black Americans, and the cultural pride of the era.

Personal life

Hughes traveled extensively, living in various parts of the United States and abroad, including time in Africa and Europe. His personal life was marked by a commitment to his community and a dedication to his art. He maintained strong connections with other artists and intellectuals of the Harlem Renaissance.

Recognition and reception

Hughes received significant recognition during his lifetime and posthumously. He won numerous awards for his poetry and was widely celebrated for his contributions to American literature and his role in promoting Black culture and consciousness. His work continues to be studied, performed, and admired.

Influences and legacy

Hughes was influenced by poets like Carl Sandburg and Vachel Lindsay, as well as the musical traditions of blues and jazz. His legacy is profound; he is credited with shaping modern Black literature and bringing the experiences of Black Americans to a national audience. His innovative use of musical forms in poetry and his consistent advocacy for racial equality have had a lasting impact on subsequent generations of writers and activists.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Hughes's poetry is often analyzed for its powerful portrayal of the Black experience in America, its celebration of Black culture, and its subtle yet firm critique of racial injustice. His use of blues and jazz structures is frequently examined for its contribution to the musicality and emotional depth of his verse.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Hughes was a prolific writer who also worked as a translator, a lyricist for musical productions, and wrote a popular newspaper column, "The Hughes", under various pseudonyms. He often drew inspiration from everyday conversations and observations.

Death and memory

Langston Hughes died in New York City in 1967. He is remembered as one of America's most important poets, a key figure of the Harlem Renaissance, and a tireless advocate for civil rights and Black identity.

Poems

47

Mother to Son

Mother to Son

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-climbin' 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.
507

Me And The Mule

Me And The Mule

My old mule,
He's gota grin on his face.
He's been a mule so long
He's forgotten about his race.


I'm like that old mule --
Black -- and don't give a damn!
You got to take me
Like I am.
452

Madam and The Rent Man

Madam and The Rent Man

The rent man knocked.
He said, Howdy-do?
I said, What
Can I do for you?
He said, You know
Your rent is due.


I said, Listen,
Before I'd pay
I'd go to Hades
And rot away!


The sink is broke,
The water don't run,
And you ain't done a thing
You promised to've done.


Back window's cracked,
Kitchen floor squeaks,
There's rats in the cellar,
And the attic leaks.


He said, Madam,
It's not up to me.
I'm just the agent,
Don't you see?


I said, Naturally,
You pass the buck.
If it's money you want
You're out of luck.


He said, Madam,
I ain't pleased!
I said, Neither am I.
So we agrees!
511

Love Song for Lucinda

Love Song for Lucinda

Love
Is a ripe plum
Growing on a purple tree.
Taste it once
And the spell of its enchantment
Will never let you be.

Love
Is a bright star
Glowing in far Southern skies.
Look too hard
And its burning flame
Will always hurt your eyes.

Love
Is a high mountain
Stark in a windy sky.
If you
Would never lose your breath
Do not climb too high.
415

Madam and the Census Man

Madam and the Census Man

The census man,
The day he came round,
Wanted my name
To put it down.


I said, Johnson,
Alberta K.
But he hated to write
The K that way.


He said, What
Does K stand for?
I said, K--
And nothing more.


He said, I'm gonna put it
KÐAÐY.
I said, If you do,
You lie.


My mother christened me
Alberta K.
You leave my name
Just that way!


He said, Mrs.,
(With a snort)
Just a K
Makes your name too short.


I said, I don't
Give a damn!
Leave me and my name
Just like I am!


Furthermore, rub out
That MRS., too-I'll
have you know
I'm Madam to you!
412

Let America be America Again

Let America be America Again

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.


(America never was America to me.)


Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.


(It never was America to me.)


O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.


(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")


Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?


I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.


I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!


I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.


Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings



In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."


The free?


Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.


O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.


Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!


O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!


Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
693

Lincoln Monument: Washington

Lincoln Monument: Washington

Let's go see Old Abe
Sitting in the marble and the moonlight,
Sitting lonely in the marble and the moonlight,
Quiet for ten thousand centuries, old Abe.
Quiet for a million, million years.


Quiet-


And yet a voice forever
Against the
Timeless walls
Of time-
Old Abe.
359

In Time Of Silver Rain

In Time Of Silver Rain

In time of silver rain
The earth puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads

Of Life,
Of Life,
Of life!

In time of silver rain
The butterflies lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth new leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,

In time of silver rain When spring
And life
Are new.
406

Juke Box Love Song

Juke Box Love Song

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day--
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.
403

Helen Keller

Helen Keller

She,
In the dark,
Found light
Brighter than many ever see.
She,
Within herself,
Found loveliness,
Through the soul's own mastery.
And now the world receives
From her dower:
The message of the strength
Of inner power.
493

Quotes

40

Videos

50

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