Poems List

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!
678

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.
347

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.
389

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.
395

I Dream A World

I Dream A World

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
Will know sweet freedom's way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head
And joy, like a pearl,
Attends the needs of all mankind-
Of such I dream, my world!
644

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.
468

Gods

Gods


The ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond and jade,
Sit silently on their temple shelves
While the people
Are afraid.
Yet the ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond-jade,
Are only silly puppet gods
That the people themselves
Have made.
443

For Selma

For Selma

In places like
Selma, Alabama,
Kids say,
In places like
Chicago and New York...
In places like
Chicago and New York
Kids say,
In places like
London and Paris...
In places like
London and Paris
Kids say,
In places like
Chicago and New York...
309

Enemy

Enemy


It would be nice
In any case,
To someday meet you
Face to face
Walking down
The road to hell...
As I come up
Feeling swell.
418

Final Curve

Final Curve

When you turn the corner
And you run into yourself
Then you know that you have turned
All the corners that are left
527

Comments (0)

Log in to post a comment.

NoComments

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.