Selected Poems of Langston Hughes (6 page)

Baby, if you love me

Help me when I’m down and out

If you love me, baby,

Help me when I’m down and out,

I’m a po’ gal

Nobody gives a damn about.

The credit man’s done took ma clothes

And rent time’s nearly here.

I’d like to buy a straightenin’ comb,

An’ I need a dime fo’ beer.

I need a dime fo’ beer.

I’m gonna walk to the graveyard

’Hind ma friend Miss Cora Lee.

Gonna walk to the graveyard

’Hind ma dear friend Cora Lee

Cause when I’m dead some

Body’ll have to walk behind me.

I’m goin’ to the po’ house

To see ma old Aunt Clew.

Goin’ to the po’ house

To see ma old Aunt Clew.

When I’m old an’ ugly

I’ll want to see somebody, too.

The po’ house is lonely

An’ the grave is cold.

O, the po’ house is lonely,

The graveyard grave is cold.

But I’d rather be dead than

To be ugly an’ old.

When love is gone what

Can a young gal do?

When love is gone, O,

What can a young gal do?

Keep on a-lovin’ me, daddy,

Cause I don’t want to be blue.

A girl with all that raising,

It’s hard to understand

How she could get in trouble

With a no-good man.

The guy she gave her all to

Dropped her with a thud.

Now amongst decent people,

Dorothy’s name is mud.

But nobody’s seen her shed a tear,

Nor seen her hang her head.

Ain’t even heard her murmur,

Lord, I wish I was dead!

No! The hussy’s telling everybody—

Just as though it was no sin—

That if she had a chance

She’d do it agin’!

I went to ma daddy,

Says Daddy I have got the blues.

Went to ma daddy,

Says Daddy I have got the blues.

Ma daddy says, Honey,

Can’t you bring no better news?

I cried on his shoulder but

He turned his back on me.

Cried on his shoulder but

He turned his back on me.

He said a woman’s cryin’s

Never gonna bother me.

I wish I had wings to

Fly like the eagle flies.

Wish I had wings to

Fly like the eagle flies.

I’d fly on ma man an’

I’d scratch out both his eyes.

In the middle of the winter,

Snow all over the ground.

In the middle of the winter,

Snow all over the ground—

’Twas the night befo’ Christmas

My good man turned me down.

Don’t know’s I’d mind his goin’

But he left me when the coal was low.

Don’t know’s I’d mind his goin’

But he left when the coal was low.

Now, if a man loves a woman

That ain’t no time to go.

He told me that he loved me

But he must a been tellin’ a lie.

He told me that he loved me.

He must a been tellin’ a lie.

But he’s the only man I’ll

Love till the day I die.

I’m gonna buy me a rose bud

An’ plant it at my back door,

Buy me a rose bud,

Plant it at my back door,

So when I’m dead they won’t need

No flowers from the store.

It was yesterday morning

I looked in my box for mail.

The letter that I found there

Made me turn right pale.

Just a little old letter,

Wasn’t even one page long—

But it made me wish

I was in my grave and gone.

I turned it over,

Not a word writ on the back.

I never felt so lonesome

Since I was born black.

Just a pencil and paper,

You don’t need no gun nor knife—

A little old letter

Can take a person’s life.

I hope my child’ll

Never love a man.

I say I hope my child’ll

Never love a man.

Love can hurt you

Mo’n anything else can.

I’m goin’ down to the river

An’ I ain’t goin’ there to swim;

Down to the river,

Ain’t goin’ there to swim.

My true love’s left me

And I’m goin’ there to think about him.

Love is like whiskey,

Love is like red, red wine.

Love is like whiskey,

Like sweet red wine.

If you want to be happy

You got to love all the time.

I’m goin’ up in a tower

Tall as a tree is tall,

Up in a tower

Tall as a tree is tall.

Gonna think about my man—

And let my fool-self fall.

When I get to be a composer

I’m gonna write me some music about

Daybreak in Alabama

And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it

Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist

And falling out of heaven like soft dew.

I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it

And the scent of pine needles

And the smell of red clay after rain

And long red necks

And poppy colored faces

And big brown arms

And the field daisy eyes

Of black and white black white black people

And I’m gonna put white hands

And black hands and brown and yellow hands

And red clay earth hands in it

Touching everybody with kind fingers

And touching each other natural as dew

In that dawn of music when I

Get to be a composer

And write about daybreak

In Alabama.

My old man’s a white old man

And my old mother’s black.

If ever I cursed my white old man

I take my curses back.

If ever I cursed my black old mother

And wished she were in hell,

I’m sorry for that evil wish

And now I wish her well.

My old man died in a fine big house.

My ma died in a shack.

I wonder where I’m gonna die,

Being neither white nor black?

The quiet fading out of life

In a corner full of ugliness.

I went lookin’ for magnolia flowers

But I didn’t find ’em.

I went lookin’ for magnolia flowers in the dusk

And there was only this corner

Full of ugliness.

    
’Scuse me
,

    
I didn’t mean to stump ma toe on you, lady
.

There ought to be magnolias

Somewhere in this dusk.

    
’Scuse me
,

    
I didn’t mean to stump ma toe on you
.

    
I am your son, white man!

Georgia dusk

And the turpentine woods.

One of the pillars of the temple fell.

    
You are my son!

    
Like hell!

The moon over the turpentine woods.

The Southern night

Full of stars,

Great big yellow stars.

    What’s a body but a toy?

               Juicy bodies

               Of nigger wenches

               Blue black

               Against black fences.

               O, you little bastard boy,

               What’s a body but a toy?

The scent of pine wood stings the soft night air.

               
What’s the body of your mother?

Silver moonlight everywhere
.

               
What’s the body of your mother?

Sharp pine scent in the evening air.

                         A nigger night,

                         A nigger joy,

                         A little yellow

                         Bastard boy.

               
Naw, you ain’t my brother
.

               
Niggers ain’t my brother
.

               
Not ever
.

               
Niggers ain’t my brother
.

The Southern night is full of stars,

Great big yellow stars.

                         O, sweet as earth,

                         Dusk dark bodies

                         Give sweet birth

To little yellow bastard boys.

               
Git on back there in the night
,

               
You ain’t white
.

The bright stars scatter everywhere.

Pine wood scent in the evening air.

                         A nigger night,

                         A nigger joy.

               
I am your son, white man!

                         A little yellow

                         Bastard boy.

Miss Gardner’s in her garden.

Miss Yardman’s in her yard.

Miss Michaelmas is at de mass

And I am gettin’ tired!

    Lawd!

I am gettin’ tired!

The nations they is fightin’

And the nations they done fit.

Sometimes I think that white folks

Ain’t worth a little bit.

    No, m’am!

Ain’t worth a little bit.

Last week they lynched a colored boy.

They hung him to a tree.

That colored boy ain’t said a thing

But we all should be free.

    Yes, m’am!

We all should be free.

Not meanin’ to be sassy

And not meanin’ to be smart—

But sometimes I think that white folks

Just ain’t got no heart.

    No, m’am!

Just ain’t got no heart.

They took me out

To some lonesome place.

They said, “Do you believe

In the great white race?”

I said, “Mister,

To tell you the truth,

I’d believe in anything

If you’d just turn me loose.”

The white man said, “Boy,

Can it be

You’re a-standin’ there

A-sassin’ me?”

They hit me in the head

And knocked me down.

And then they kicked me

On the ground.

A klansman said, “Nigger,

Look me in the face—

And tell me you believe in

The great white race.”

Down in West Texas where the sun

Shines like the evil one

I had a woman

And her name

Was Joe.

Pickin’ cotton in the field

Joe said I wonder how it would feel

For us to pack up

Our things

And go?

So we cranked up our old Ford

And we started down the road

Where we was goin’

We didn’t know—

Nor which way.

But West Texas where the sun

Shines like the evil one

Ain’t no place

For a colored

Man to stay!

Just a herd of Negroes

Driven to the field,

Plowing, planting, hoeing,

To make the cotton yield.

When the cotton’s picked

And the work is done

Boss man takes the money

And we get none,

Leaves us hungry, ragged

As we were before.

Year by year goes by

And we are nothing more

Than a herd of Negroes

Driven to the field—

Plowing life away

To make the cotton yield.

She was young and beautiful

And golden like the sunshine

That warmed her body.

And because she was colored

Mayville had no place to offer her,

Nor fuel for the clean flame of joy

That tried to burn within her soul.

One day,

Sitting on old Mrs. Latham’s back porch

Polishing the silver,

She asked herself two questions

And they ran something like this:

What can a colored girl do

On the money from a white woman’s kitchen?

And ain’t there any joy in this town?

Now the streets down by the river

Know more about this pretty Ruby Brown,

And the sinister shuttered houses of the bottoms

Hold a yellow girl

Seeking an answer to her questions.

The good church folk do not mention

Her name any more.

But the white men,

Habitués of the high shuttered houses,

Pay more money to her now

Than they ever did before,

When she worked in their kitchens.

Negroes,

Sweet and docile,

Meek, humble, and kind:

Beware the day

They change their minds!

Wind

In the cotton fields,

Gentle breeze:

Beware the hour

It uproots trees!

Within—

The beaten pride.

Without—

The grinning face,

The low, obsequious,

Double bow,

The sly and servile grace

Of one the white folks

Long ago

Taught well

To know his

Place.