The Book of American Negro Poetry Part 11
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They chided him for telling his affairs, Because they could not tell their own so well, They plagued the poet lord and made his life a h.e.l.l.
They called him lewd, vile drunkard, vicious wight, And all because he dared to tell the truth, Because he was no cursed hermaphrodite,-- A full fledged genius with the fire of youth.
They hounded him, they hammered him forsooth; Because he blended human with divine, They branded him "the bard of women and of wine."
Of course I soak the booze once in a while, But I don't wake the town to sing and shout it; I love the girls, they win me with a smile, But no one knows, for I won't write about it.
And so the fools may never think to doubt it, When I declare I am a moral man, As gifted, yet as good as G.o.d did ever plan.
Every man has got a hobby, Every poet has some fault, Every sweet contains its bitter, Every fresh thing has its salt.
Every mountain has a valley, Every valley has a hill, Every ravine is a river, Every river is a rill.
Every fool has got some wisdom, Every wise man is a fool, Every scholar is a block-head, Every dunce has been to school.
Every bad man is a good man, Every fat man is not stout, Every good man is a bad man But 'tis hard to find him out.
Every strong man is a weak man, You may doubt it as you please, Every well man is a sick man, Every doctor has disease.
James Weldon Johnson
O BLACK AND UNKNOWN BARDS
O black and unknown bards of long ago, How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?
How, in your darkness, did you come to know The power and beauty of the minstrel's lyre?
Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes?
Who first from out the still watch, lone and long, Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song?
Heart of what slave poured out such melody As "Steal away to Jesus"? On its strains His spirit must have nightly floated free, Though still about his hands he felt his chains.
Who heard great "Jordan roll"? Whose starward eye Saw chariot "swing low"? And who was he That breathed that comforting, melodic sigh, "n.o.body knows de trouble I see"?
What merely living clod, what captive thing, Could up toward G.o.d through all its darkness grope, And find within its deadened heart to sing These songs of sorrow, love and faith, and hope?
How did it catch that subtle undertone, That note in music heard not with the ears?
How sound the elusive reed so seldom blown, Which stirs the soul or melts the heart to tears.
Not that great German master in his dream Of harmonies that thundered amongst the stars At the creation, ever heard a theme n.o.bler than "Go down, Moses." Mark its bars How like a mighty trumpet-call they stir The blood. Such are the notes that men have sung Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were That helped make history when Time was young.
There is a wide, wide wonder in it all, That from degraded rest and servile toil The fiery spirit of the seer should call These simple children of the sun and soil.
O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed, You--you alone, of all the long, long line Of those who've sung untaught, unknown, unnamed, Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine.
You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings; No chant of b.l.o.o.d.y war, no exulting pean Of arms-won triumphs; but your humble strings You touched in chord with music empyrean.
You sang far better than you knew; the songs That for your listeners' hungry hearts sufficed Still live,--but more than this to you belongs: You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.
SENCE YOU WENT AWAY
Seems lak to me de stars don't s.h.i.+ne so bright, Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light, Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right, Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue, Seems lak to me dat ev'ything wants you, Seems lak to me I don't know what to do, Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong, Seems lak to me de day's jes twice es long, Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song, Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh, Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry, Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye, Sence you went away.
THE CREATION
(_A Negro Sermon_)
And G.o.d stepped out on s.p.a.ce, And He looked around and said, _"I'm lonely-- I'll make me a world."_
And far as the eye of G.o.d could see Darkness covered everything, Blacker than a hundred midnights Down in a cypress swamp.
Then G.o.d smiled, And the light broke, And the darkness rolled up on one side, And the light stood s.h.i.+ning on the other, And G.o.d said, _"That's good!"_
Then G.o.d reached out and took the light in His hands, And G.o.d rolled the light around in His hands Until He made the sun; And He set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
And the light that was left from making the sun G.o.d gathered it up in a s.h.i.+ning ball And flung it against the darkness, Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
Then down between The darkness and the light He hurled the world; And G.o.d said, _"That's good!"_
Then G.o.d himself stepped down-- And the sun was on His right hand, And the moon was on His left; The stars were cl.u.s.tered about His head, And the earth was under His feet.
And G.o.d walked, and where He trod His footsteps hollowed the valleys out And bulged the mountains up.
Then He stopped and looked and saw That the earth was hot and barren.
So G.o.d stepped over to the edge of the world And He spat out the seven seas; He batted His eyes, and the lightnings flashed; He clapped His hands, and the thunders rolled; And the waters above the earth came down, The cooling waters came down.
Then the green gra.s.s sprouted, And the little red flowers blossomed, The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky, And the oak spread out his arms, The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground, And the rivers ran down to the sea; And G.o.d smiled again, And the rainbow appeared, And curled itself around His shoulder.
Then G.o.d raised His arm and He waved His hand Over the sea and over the land, And He said, _"Bring forth! Bring forth!"_ And quicker than G.o.d could drop His hand, Fishes and fowls And beasts and birds Swam the rivers and the seas, Roamed the forests and the woods, And split the air with their wings.
And G.o.d said, _"That's good!"_
Then G.o.d walked around, And G.o.d looked around On all that He had made.
He looked at His sun, And He looked at His moon, 'And He looked at His little stars; He looked on His world With all its living things, And G.o.d said, _"I'm lonely still."_
Then G.o.d sat down On the side of a hill where He could think; By a deep, wide river He sat down; With His head in His hands, G.o.d thought and thought, Till He thought, _"I'll make me a man!"_
Up from the bed of the river G.o.d scooped the clay; And by the bank of the river He kneeled Him down; And there the great G.o.d Almighty Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky, Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night, Who rounded the earth in the middle of His hand; This Great G.o.d, Like a mammy bending over her baby, Kneeled down in the dust Toiling over a lump of clay Till He shaped it in His own image;
Then into it He blew the breath of life, And man became a living soul.
Amen. Amen.
THE WHITE WITCH
O brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night.
The Book of American Negro Poetry Part 11
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The Book of American Negro Poetry Part 11 summary
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