Free Selected Poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes

bench
    night and day.
    Jesus, lover of my soul!
    Hail, Mary, mother of God!
    Let me to thy bosom fly!
    Amen! Hallelujah!
    Swing low, sweet chariot
,
    Coming for to carry me home
.
    Sunday morning where the rhythm flows,
    how old nobody knows—
    yet old as mystery,
    older than creed,
    basic and wondering
    and lost as my need.
        
Eli, eli!
        
Te deum!
        
Mahomet!
        
Christ!
    Father Bishop, Effendi, Mother Home,
    Father Divine, a Rabbi black
    as black was born,
    a jack-leg preacher, a Ph.D.
        
The mystery
        
and the darkness
        
and the song
        
and me
.
Sliver of Sermon
    When pimps out of loneliness cry:
          
Great God!
    Whores in final weariness say:
          
Great God!
          
Oh, God!
          
My God!
          Great
          God!
Testimonial
    If I just had a piano,
    if I just had a organ,
    if I just had a drum,
    how I could praise my Lord!
    But I don’t need no piano,
          neither organ
          nor drum
    for to praise my Lord!
Passing
    On sunny summer Sunday afternoons in Harlem
    when the air is one interminable ball game
    and grandma cannot get her gospel hymns
    from the Saints of God in Christ
    on account of the Dodgers on the radio,
    on sunny Sunday afternoons
    when the kids look all new
    and far too clean to stay that way,
    and Harlem has its
    washed-and-ironed-and-cleaned-best out,
    the ones who’ve crossed the line
    to live downtown
    miss you,
    Harlem of the bitter dream,
    since their dream has
    come true.
Nightmare Boogie
    I had a dream
    and I could see
    a million faces
    black as me!
    A nightmare dream:
    Quicker than light
    All them faces
    Turned dead white!
    Boogie-woogie,
    Rolling bass,
    Whirling treble
    of cat-gut lace.
Sunday by the Combination
    I feel like dancin’, baby,
    till the sun goes down.
    But I wonder where
    the sunrise
    Monday morning’s gonna be?
    I feel like dancin’!
    Baby, dance with me!
Casualty
    He was a soldier in the army,
    But he doesn’t walk like one.
    He walks like his soldiering
    Days are done.
    Son! … Son!
Night Funeral in Harlem
                             Night funeral
                             In Harlem:
                             
Where did they get
                             
Them two fine cars?
    Insurance man, he did not pay—
    His insurance lapsed the other day—
    Yet they got a satin box
    For his head to lay.
                             Night funeral
                             In Harlem:
                             
Who was it sent
                             
That wreath of flowers?
    Them flowers came
    from that poor boy’s friends—
    They’ll want flowers, too,
    When they meet their ends.
                             Night funeral
                             In Harlem:
                             
Who preached that
                             
Black boy to his grave?
    Old preacher-man
    Preached that boy away—
    Charged Five Dollars
    His girl friend had to pay.
                             Night funeral
                             In Harlem:
    When it was all over
    And the lid shut on his head
    and the organ had done played
    and the last prayers been said
    and six pallbearers
    Carried him out for dead
    And off down Lenox