Langston Hughes in Memory and Context
Sponsors:
- Langston Hughes Center
- African & African-American Studies
- Kenneth Spencer Research Library, Kansas Collection
Coordinated by
Shawn Leigh Alexander,Langston Hughes Centerand African and AfricanAmerican Studies
Deborah Dandridge, theUniversity of KansasLibraries, KennethSpencer Research Library, Kansas Collection
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?DoesitdryupLikearaisininthesun?Orfesterlikeasore--And thenrun?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Orcrustandsugarover--like asyrupysweet?Maybe it just sagslike a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Program
Kenneth Spencer Research Library
9:15 – 9:30 Arrival of Barstow School Students
9:45 – 10:20 Group One: North Gallery, Shawn Leigh Alexander
9:45 – 10:20 Group Two: Johnson Room, Deborah Dandridge
10:25 – 10:50 Group Two: North Gallery, Shawn Leigh Alexander
10:25 – 10:50 Group One: Johnson Room, Deborah Dandridge
11:00 – 11:30 Lunch: Bus or the rotunda in Strong Hall 11:30 Depart for the Barstow School
I, Too
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes,
But I laugh, And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen," Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
The Langston Hughes Center
The Langston Hughes Center (formerly the Langston Hughes Resource Center, founded in 1998) is an academic research and educational center that is building upon the legacy and creative and intellectual insight of African American author, poet, playwright, folklorist and social critic, Langston Hughes. The Center coordinates, strengthens and develops teaching, research and outreach activities in African American Studies, and the study of race and culture in American society at the University of Kansas and throughout the region. The Center, therefore, acts as a hub of critical examination of black culture, history, literature, politics, and social relations.
In addition, like Hughes himself, the Center has a Diasporic focus, promoting research and discussions on Africans in the Americas, theCaribbean and Africa. Towards these ends the Langston Hughes Center, will regularly sponsor conferences, lectures, seminars and forums on a wide variety of topics; coordinating activities with other groups at KU and throughout the region.
The Kansas Collection, Kenneth Spencer Research Library
The Kansas Collection is the regional history division of the University of Kansas Libraries. The Collection provides researchers with primary source materials that document the history of Kansas, the region, and the people who have lived here. In order to support teaching and research at the University, and elsewhere, staff of the Collection acquire, preserve, and make available such resources as manuscripts,historical photographs, maps, architectural drawings and blueprints, books, newspapers and other serial publications (e.g., periodicals), film and videotapes that document the "Kansas Experience." The Kansas Collection is also a depository for publications of the state of Kansas and for Douglas County records.
Kansas became a territory in 1854, and a state in 1861. The bulk of the Collection's holdings cover the period from statehood to the present. Materials beyond Kansas include documentation from the contiguous states and the Great Plains generally. Regional representation of agricultural, political and social movements, economic development, and overland trail migration expand both the time frame and types ofmaterials available.
Dream Variations
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done. Then 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
Children’s Rhymes
By what sends The white kids I ain't sent:
I know I can't Be President. What don't bug Them white kids Sure bugs me:
We know everybody Ain't free.
Lies written down For white folks Ain't for us a-tall: Liberty And Justice; Huh! For All!
Mother to Son
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it, And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor?
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on, And reachin' landin's, And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps. 'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now?
For I'se still goin', honey, I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. 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.
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.
The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . . He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world, Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues And I can't be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And can't be satisfied-- I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.