Poems For America
Contents:
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free.
Claude McKay
Who said the free? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike?
Show 25 25 50 All. Anna added it Feb 14, America , Robert Creeley America , Herman Melville America In , Edgar Lee Masters A Supermarket in California. Once you are out of school or at least out of class , poetry, especially these poems, deserves a second look.
The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay-- Except the dream that's almost dead today. O, let America be America again-- The land that never has been yet-- And yet must be--the land where every man is free. The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-- Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-- The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!
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Let America Be America Again. America , Claude McKay 4. Ten years, a hundred, a thousand, a million— It did not matter. Time was not its measure, Not its keeper, nor its master. Wood was trees in those first days.
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And when wood sang, it was leaves , Which. Catawba Cotton Mill, Meditations at the New Orleans I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes.
Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed— I. Lift Every Voice and Sing.
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I love this poem. As Italian with a denied visa and a consequently denied dream, I feel this poem a lot. Thanks for sharing such an amazing set of emotions.
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Such an interesting poem presented nicely. Thanks for sharing and congratulations for the poem of the day.
A beautiful poem that can withstand the tests of time. Such a sincere poem by Claude MacKay Bold, very bold expression. A poem of truth about America I loved the balance of this great piece overall.