| William Butler Yeats (1865-1939 ) and Langston Hughes (1902-1967) | |||||||||||||||||
| THE COLD HEAVEN by W.B. Yeats (who's last name is so darned close to mine:) same letters!) | Dream Variations by Langston Hughes | ||||||||||||||||
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Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven That seemed as though ice burned as was but the more ice, And thereupon imagination and heart were driven So wild that every casual thought of that and this Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago; And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason, Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro, Riddled with light. Ah! When the ghost begins to quicken, Confusion of the death-bead over, is it sent Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken By the injustice of the skies for punishment? |
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Than rest at cool evening Beneath a tall tree While night comes on gently, Dark like me-- That is my dream! TO fling my arms wide In the face of the sun, Dance! Whirl! Whirl! Till the quick day is done. Rest at pale evening� A tall, slim tree� Night coming tenderly Black like me. | ||||||||||||||||
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