Fairies
Out of the dust of dreams,
Fairies weave their garments;
Out of the purple and rose of old memories,
They make rainbow wings.
No wonder we find them such marvellous things!
Poetry
By Langston Hughes.
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Winter Sweetness
The little house is sugar,
Its roof with snow is piled,
And from its tiny window,
Peeps a maple-sugar child.
Signs of Spring
Bright, jolly sunshine and clear blue skies,
Green trees and gardens and gay butterflies,
Soft little winds that balmy blow,
A golden moon with a love light glow,
And the music of bird songs, blithe and clear,
Are the things which tell us that Spring is here.
An April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head
With silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
With its pitty-pat.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep tune
On our roof at night,
And I love the rain.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
(To W. E. B. DuBois)
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
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