by Langston Hughes
We should have a land of sun,
Of gorgeous sun,
And a land of fragrant water
Where the twilight is a soft bandana handkerchief
Of rose and gold,
And not this land
Where life is cold.
We should have a land of these,
Of tall thick trees,
Bowed down with chattering parrots
Brilliant as the day,
And not this land where birds are gray.
Ah, we should have a land of joy,
Of love and joy and wine and song,
And not this land where joy is wrong.
*Langston Hughes was born February 1, 1902 in
Jopline Missouri. A powerful figure in the Harlem
Renaissance, he is the author of several poetry collections,
prose, , and plays, including The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf
1926), Shakeepeare in Harlem (Alfred A. Knopf 1942), and others.
He died on May 22, 1967 , in New York City.