One Of The Great Difficulties About Being

My Seeking Has Been To Explain And Illuminate The Negro Condition In America And Obliquely That Of All Human Kind.

You And I By Henry Alford My Hand Is Lonely For Your Clasping, Dear; My Ear Is Tired Waiting For Your Call. I Want Your Strength To Help, Your Laugh To Cheer; Heart, Soul And Senses Need You, One And All. I Droop Without Your Full, Frank Sympathy; We Ought To Be Together—you And I; We Want Each Other So, To Comprehend The Dream, The Hope, Things Planned, Or Seen, Or Wrought. Companion, Comforter And Guide And Friend, As Much As Love Asks Love, Does Thought Ask Thought. Life Is So Short, So Fast The Lone Hours Fly, We Ought To Be Together, You And I.

When Poems Stop Talking About The Moon And Begin To Mention Poverty, Trade Unions, Color, Color Lines And Colonies, Somebody Tells The Police.

Let America Be America, Where Equality Is In The Air We Breathe.

Most Musicians Remain Poor. But The Music That They Make, Even If It Does Not Bring Them Millions, Gives Millions Of People Happiness.