_There is a coarseness In the songs of black men Coarse as the songs Of the sea. There is a weird strangeness In the songs of black men Which sounds not strange To me._ _There is beauty In the faces of black women, Jungle beauty And mystery. Dark, hidden beauty In the faces of black women Which only black men See._ [Illustration] _Finality_ _Trees are the souls of men Reaching skyward. And while each soul Draws nearer God Its dark roots cleave To earthly sod: Death, only death Brings triumph to the soul. The silent grave alone Can bare the goal. Then roots and all Must lie forgot-- To rot._ EDWARD SILVERA. [Illustration] [Illustration] _The Death Bed_ _All the time they were praying He watched the shadow of a tree Flicker on the wall._ _There is no need of prayer. He said, No need at all._ _The kin-folk thought it strange That he should ask them from a dying bed. But they left all in a row And it seemed to ease him To see them go._ _There were some who kept on praying In a room across the hall And some who listened to the breeze That made the shadows waver On the wall._ _He tried his nerve On a song he knew And made an empty note That might have come, From a bird’s harsh throat._ _And all the time it worried him That they were in there praying And all the time he wondered What it was they could be saying._ WARING CUNEY. [Illustration] [Illustration] _Elevator Boy_ _I got a job now Runnin’ an elevator In the Dennison Hotel in Jersey, Job aint no good though. No money around. Jobs are just chances Like everything else. Maybe a little luck now, Maybe not. Maybe a good job sometimes: Step out o’ the barrel, boy. Two new suits an’ A woman to sleep with. Maybe no luck for a long time. Only the elevators Goin’ up an’ down, Up an’ down, Or somebody else’s shoes To shine, Or greasy pots in a dirty kitchen. I been runnin’ this Elevator too long. Guess I’ll quit now._ LANGSTON HUGHES. [Illustration] [Illustration] _Railroad Avenue_