Besides, They’ll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed,-- I, too, am America. PRAYER[17] I ask you this: Which way to go? I ask you this: Which sin to bear? Which crown to put Upon my hair? I do not know, Lord God, I do not know. SONG FOR A DARK GIRL[18] Way down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) They hung my black young lover To a cross roads tree. Way down South in Dixie (Bruised body high in air) I asked the white Lord Jesus What was the use of prayer. Way down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) Love is a naked shadow On a gnarled and naked tree. HOMESICK BLUES[19] De railroad bridge’s A sad song in de air. De railroad bridge’s A sad song in de air. Ever time de trains pass I wants to go somewhere. I went down to de station. Ma heart was in ma mouth. Went down to de station. Heart was in ma mouth. Lookin’ for a box car To roll me to de South. Homesick blues, Lawd, ’S a terrible thing to have. Homesick blues is A terrible thing to have. To keep from cryin’ I opens ma mouth an’ laughs. FANTASY IN PURPLE[20] Beat the drums of tragedy for me. Beat the drums of tragedy and death. And let the choir sing a stormy song To drown the rattle of my dying breath. Beat the drums of tragedy for me, And let the white violins whir thin and slow, But blow one blaring trumpet note of sun To go with me to the darkness where I go. DREAM VARIATION[21] To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening Beneath a tall tree While night comes on gently, Dark like me,-- That is my dream! To fling my arms wide In the face of the sun, Dance! whirl! whirl! Till the quick day is done. Rest at pale evening.... A tall, slim tree.... Night coming tenderly Black like me. THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS[22] 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 bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I’ve known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. POEM[23] The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun. Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people. SUICIDE’S NOTE[24] The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss. MOTHER TO SON[25]