There Is No Color Line In Art.

Sometimes I Wish The Public Were Equally Aware Of The Men Of Our Race In The Cultural Fields. You, For Instance, Have You Ever Bought A Book By A Negro Writer?

What Happens To A Dream Deferred?

Let The Rain Kiss You. Let The Rain Beat Upon Your Head With Silver Liquid Drops. Let The Rain Sing You A Lullaby.

It Were Depression, Too. They Cut My Wages Down Once At The Foundry. They Cut My Wages Down Again. Then They Cut My Wages Out, Also The Job.

The Rhythm Of Life Is A Jazz Rhythm