The Book of American Negro Poetry

My tearful eyes my soul's deep hurt are glassing; For I would hail and check that ship of ships. I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud, My voice falls dead a foot from mine ow...

Then the green grass 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...

Long nights, long nights and the whisperings of new ones, Flame the line of the pathway down to the sea With the halo of new dreams and the hallow of old ones, And they bring ma...

Dar's a lazy, sortah hazy Feelin' grips me, thoo an' thoo; An' I feels lak doin' less dan enythin'; Dough de saw is sharp an' greasy, Dough de task et han' is easy, An' de day a...

And men repent and then forget That heavenly wrath they ever met, The band of Gideon yet will come And strike their tongues of blasphemy dumb. Each black cloud Is a fiery steed....

As a man, Dunbar was kind and tender. In conversation he was brilliant and polished. His voice was his chief charm, and was a great element in his success as a reader of his own...

PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A Negro Love Song Little Brown Baby Ships That Pass in the Night Lover's Lane The Debt The Haunted Oak When de Co'n Pone's Hot A Death Song

The question seems difficult, but there is an answer. The Negro in the United States is consuming all of his intellectual energy in this gruelling race-struggle. And the same st...

If the unfortunate fate engulfing me, The ending of my history of grief, The closing of my span of years so brief, Mother, should wake a single pang in thee, Weep not. No sadden...