The weary blues

by Langston Hughes

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

CROSS

My old man’s a white old man

And my old mother’s black.

If ever I cursed my white old man

I take my curses back.