Way down South in Dixie
  (Break the heart of me)
They hung my black young lover 
   To a cross roads tree. 

Way down South in Dixie
   (Bruised body high in air)
I asked the white Lord Jesus
   What was the use of prayer. 

Way down South in Dixie
   (Break the heart of me) 
Love is a naked shadow
   On a gnarled and naked tree. 

The lazy, laughing South
With blood on its mouth.
The sunny-faced South,
     Beast-strong,
     Idiot-brained.
The child-minded South
Scratching in the dead fire’s ashes
For a Negro’s bones.
     Cotton and the moon,
     Warmth, earth, warmth,
     The sky, the sun, the stars,
     The magnolia-scented South.
Beautiful, like a woman,
Seductive as a dark-eyed whore,
     Passionate, cruel,
     Honey-lipped, syphilitic—
     That is the South.
And I, who am black, would love her
But she spits in my face.
And I, who am black,
Would give her many rare gifts
But she turns her back upon me.
     So now I seek the North—
     The cold-faced North,
     For she, they say,
     Is a kinder mistress,
And in her house my children
May escape the spell of the South.

The night is beautiful,

So the faces of my people.

The stars are beautiful,

So the eyes of my people.

Beautiful, also, is the sun.

Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.

He carries
His own strength
And his own laughter,
His own today
And his own hereafter,––
This strong young sailor
Of the wide seas.

What is money for?
To spend, he says.
And wine?
To drink.
And women?
To love.
And today?
For joy.
And tomorrow?
For joy.
And the green sea
For strength,
And the brown land
For laughter.
And nothing hereafter.

The spring is not so beautiful there,—
   But dream ships sail away
To where the spring is wondrous rare
   And life is gay.

The spring is not so beautiful there,—
   But lads put out to sea
Who carry beauties in their hearts
   And dreams, like me.

The calm, 
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.