The Weary Blues Read Online Free

tragedy
    And in the other
    Comedy,—
    Masks for the soul.
    Laugh with me.
    You would laugh!
    Weep with me.
    You would weep!
    Tears are my laughter.
    Laughter is my pain.
    Cry at my grinning mouth,
    If you will.
    Laugh at my sorrow’s reign.
    I am the Black Jester,
    The dumb clown of the world,
    The booted, booted fool of silly men.
    Once I was wise.
    Shall I be wise again?

THE SOUTH
    The lazy, laughing South
    With blood on its mouth.
    The sunny-faced South,
        Beast-strong,
        Idiot-brained.
    The child-minded South
    Scratching in the dead fire’s ashes
    For a Negro’s bones.
        Cotton and the moon,
        Warmth, earth, warmth,
        The sky, the sun, the stars,
        The magnolia-scented South.
    Beautiful, like a woman,
    Seductive as a dark-eyed whore,
        Passionate, cruel,
        Honey-lipped, syphilitic—
        That is the South.
    And I, who am black, would love her
    But she spits in my face.
    And I, who am black,
    Would give her many rare gifts
    But she turns her back upon me.
        So now I seek the North—
        The cold-faced North,
        For she, they say,
        Is a kinder mistress,
    And in her house my children
    May escape the spell of the South.

AS I GREW OLDER
    It was a long time ago.
    I have almost forgotten my dream.
    But it was there then,
    In front of me,
    Bright like a sun,—
    My dream.
    And then the wall rose,
    Rose slowly,
    Slowly,
    Between me and my dream.
    Rose slowly, slowly,
    Dimming,
    Hiding,
    The light of my dream.
    Rose until it touched the sky,—
    The wall.
    Shadow.
    I am black.
    I lie down in the shadow.
    No longer the light of my dream before me,
    Above me.
    Only the thick wall.
    Only the shadow.
    My hands!
    My dark hands!
    Break through the wall!
    Find my dream!
    Help me to shatter this darkness,
    To smash this night,
    To break this shadow
    Into a thousand lights of sun,
    Into a thousand whirling dreams
    Of sun!

AUNT SUE’S STORIES
    Aunt Sue has a head full of stories.
    Aunt Sue has a whole heart full of stories.
    Summer nights on the front porch
    Aunt Sue cuddles a brown-faced child to her bosom
    And tells him stories.
    Black slaves
    Working in the hot sun,
    And black slaves
    Walking in the dewy night,
    And black slaves
    Singing sorrow songs on the banks of a mighty river
    Mingle themselves softly
    In the flow of old Aunt Sue’s voice,
    Mingle themselves softly
    In the dark shadows that cross and recross
    Aunt Sue’s stories.
    And the dark-faced child, listening,
    Knows that Aunt Sue’s stories are real stories.
    He knows that Aunt Sue
    Never got her stories out of any book at all,
    But that they came
    Right out of her own life.
    And the dark-faced child is quiet
    Of a summer night
    Listening to Aunt Sue’s stories.

POEM
    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.

BLACK PIERROT

A BLACK PIERROT
    I am a black Pierrot:
        She did not love me,
        So I crept away into the night
        And the night was black, too.
    I am a black Pierrot:
        She did not love me,
        So I wept until the red dawn
        Dripped blood over the eastern hills
        And my heart was bleeding, too.
    I am a black Pierrot:
        She did not love me,
        So with my once gay-colored soul
        Shrunken like a balloon without air,
        I went forth in the morning
        To seek a new brown love.

HARLEM NIGHT SONG
    Come,
    Let us roam the night together
    Singing.
    I love you.
    Across
    The Harlem roof-tops
    Moon is shining.
    Night sky is blue.
    Stars are great drops
    Of golden dew.
    In the cabaret
    The jazz-band’s playing.
    I love you.
    Come,
    Let us roam the night together
    Singing.

SONGS TO THE DARK VIRGIN
                              I
    Would
    That I were a jewel,
    A shattered jewel,
    That all my shining brilliants
    Might fall at thy feet,
    Thou dark