The Harlem Renaissance

The Harlem Renaissance · Unit 1

Langston Hughes

The poet who heard the blues on Lenox Avenue and wrote them down.

In 1925 a young busboy at a Washington hotel worked up his nerve and showed a few poems to a famous white poet visiting the hotel. Soon the famous poet was telling the public he had “discovered” a new Black poet. But the busboy was no beginner. Four years earlier, a national magazine had printed a poem he wrote in ten or fifteen minutes, on the back of an envelope, while crossing the Mississippi River. His name was Langston Hughes, and he was about to become the voice of Harlem.

What’s ahead: a quick tour of his life, then six of his early poems, printed in full from his first book, with notes for close reading. Next, how a blues verse works, and a few famous later lines. Then you build blues stanzas in a game, take a ten-question quiz, and argue about the big questions.

  1. Life and times
  2. Six poems, read closely
  3. How a blues stanza works
  4. Famous later lines
  5. Game: Blues Stanza Builder
  6. Quiz
  7. Talk About It
Original Jugami illustration: a silhouetted piano player at an upright piano under a glowing gas lamp, beside a staircase where a small figure climbs, on an indigo night with a moon in the window.
Original Jugami art: “The Weary Blues” and “Mother to Son” in one Lenox Avenue night.

Life and times

Midwest beginnings. James Mercer Langston Hughes was born on February 1, 1901, in Joplin, Missouri. (In his autobiography he gave 1902; researchers later found the earlier date.) His parents split up soon after. His father moved to Mexico, partly to get away from American racism, and his mother traveled to find work, so Langston grew up mostly in Lawrence, Kansas, with his grandmother, Mary Patterson Langston. He later remembered those years as lonely ones.

Cleveland and the river. In high school in Cleveland, Ohio, he wrote for the school paper and edited the yearbook. After graduating in June 1920 he went to Mexico to live with his father, a man he barely knew and did not get along with. On the way, crossing the Mississippi River, he wrote “The Negro Speaks of Rivers.” The Crisis, the NAACP’s magazine, printed it in June 1921.

Harlem, ships and Paris. His father agreed to pay for Columbia University if Langston studied engineering. He started in September 1921, but Harlem interested him far more than classes, and he left in 1922. In 1923 he signed on as a crewman on the freighter S.S. Malone and spent six months sailing to West Africa and Europe, then lived for a while in Paris.

The busboy poet. Back in the United States in November 1924, he lived with his mother in Washington, D.C. He worked for the historian Carter G. Woodson, then quit to be a busboy at the Wardman Park Hotel, a job that left him more time to write. There he showed some poems to the poet Vachel Lindsay, who publicized his “discovery” of a new Black poet. By then Hughes had already won Opportunity magazine’s 1925 poetry prize for “The Weary Blues,” and his first book was on its way.

The books. The Weary Blues came out from Alfred A. Knopf in 1926. That year he enrolled at Lincoln University, a historically Black university in Pennsylvania, and graduated in 1929. His first novel, Not Without Laughter, won the Harmon Gold Medal for literature in 1930. He went on to write plays, stories, children’s books and two volumes of autobiography, starting with The Big Sea (1940).

Harlem for life. From 1942 to 1962 he wrote a weekly column for the Chicago Defender, a leading Black newspaper. In it, starting in 1943, he invented Jesse B. Semple, called “Simple,” an everyday Harlem man with opinions on everything. In 1951 he published Montage of a Dream Deferred, a book-length poem about Harlem built like bebop jazz. He made his home at 20 East 127th Street in Harlem and died in New York City on May 22, 1967. His ashes rest under a floor design in the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in Harlem, inspired by “The Negro Speaks of Rivers.”

About the word “Negro.” Hughes and his generation used Negro, which was then the respectful term, often written with a capital N as a point of pride. You’ll see it in his titles and lines. In your own writing, use Black or African American unless you’re quoting.

Six poems, read closely

All six poems below come from Hughes’s first book, The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926), and follow its text closely, spelling and punctuation included, checked line by line against scans of the book. Read each one aloud. Hughes wrote for the ear.

Some of these poems were printed earlier in magazines, with small differences. Where the magazine and book differ, we follow the 1926 book. The book’s own page numbers are given under each poem.

“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 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.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 51. First printed in The Crisis, June 1921. The dedication to Du Bois appears in the 1926 book. Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • Who is “I”? One person couldn’t bathe in the Euphrates at the dawn of history and also watch Lincoln on the Mississippi. The speaker is a whole people, remembering thousands of years at once.
  • The four rivers move in time: the Euphrates (where early civilizations began), the Congo and the Nile in Africa, then the Mississippi, where enslaved people were bought and sold in New Orleans. As a young man, Lincoln took a flatboat down the river to New Orleans, a center of the slave trade. The poem doesn’t explain; it trusts you to know.
  • Watch the color change. The Mississippi’s “muddy bosom” turns “all golden in the sunset.” What does it mean to end the history of slavery with that image?
  • The refrain “My soul has grown deep like the rivers” appears twice. Deep can mean old, wise, sorrowful, or hard to measure. Which do you hear?

“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 timeI’se been a-climbin’ on,And reachin’ landin’s,And turnin’ corners,And sometimes goin’ in the darkWhere 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.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 107. First printed in The Crisis, December 1922; the 1926 book text is given here (the magazine printing differs in small ways). “A-climbin’” is how the 1926 scan reads; Project Gutenberg’s transcription has “a-cimbin’,” and we follow the scan. Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • An extended metaphor. The whole poem is one comparison: life is a staircase. Make a list of everything wrong with her stair (tacks, splinters, boards torn up, no carpet, the dark) and say what each could mean in a real life.
  • “Bare.” One word on its own line. Why give it a whole line?
  • Her voice. “I’se been a-climbin’ on” is the mother’s own way of talking. Hughes chose to print her speech exactly, not to “correct” it. What would the poem lose in standard English?
  • The ending repeats the second line. The stair hasn’t changed, but she has told us she is “still climbin’.” Is the last line sadder or prouder than the first time?

“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 nightBy the pale dull pallor of an old gas lightHe did a lazy sway. . . .He did a lazy sway. . . .To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.With his ebony hands on each ivory keyHe made that poor piano moan with melody.O Blues!Swaying to and fro on his rickety stoolHe 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 toneI 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 BluesAnd I can’t be satisfied.Got the Weary BluesAnd 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 bedWhile the Weary Blues echoed through his head.He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 23–24. Won the prize for best poem in Opportunity magazine’s 1925 contest, which also first printed it; the title poem of the 1926 book. Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • Hear it first. Read the opening aloud: “Droning a drowsy syncopated tune.” The d sounds drone like the music. Most of the narrator’s lines come in rhyming pairs (tune / croon, night / light, key / melody), steady as a left hand on the piano.
  • Two voices. The narrator speaks in rhyming couplets; the piano player sings in quotation marks. Notice the indented lines too: “He did a lazy sway. . . .” and “O Blues!” sound like the narrator humming along.
  • Look for the blues stanza. The second song (“I got the Weary Blues…”) is a real AAB blues verse, split into six short lines. We take it apart in the next section.
  • The last line is a shock: “He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.” Does the music cure his sadness, or only let him rest from it?

“Dream Variations”

To fling my arms wideIn some place of the sun,To whirl and to danceTill the white day is done.Then rest at cool eveningBeneath a tall treeWhile night comes on gently,Dark like me,—That is my dream!

To fling my arms wideIn the face of the sun,Dance! whirl! whirl!Till the quick day is done.Rest at pale evening. . . .A tall, slim tree. . . .Night coming tenderlyBlack like me.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 43. From the 1926 book, where the page heading reads “Dream Variation” and the contents list reads “Dream Variations.” Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • Same dream, twice. Stanza 2 repeats stanza 1 with changes: “some place of the sun” becomes “the face of the sun,” “the white day” becomes “the quick day,” and “Dark like me” becomes “Black like me.” List every change and say what each one adds.
  • Day and night. The white day is for whirling; night is gentle and “Dark like me.” What is the poem saying about where the speaker can be free?
  • Punctuation as feeling. “Dance! whirl! whirl!” speeds up; the dotted pauses (“Rest at pale evening. . . .”) slow down. Read it at two speeds.

“I, Too”

Titled “Epilogue” in the 1926 book.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow strong.

Tomorrow,I’ll sit at the tableWhen company comes.Nobody’ll dareSay to me,“Eat in the kitchen,”Then.

Besides,They’ll see how beautiful I amAnd be ashamed,—

I, too, am America.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 109. First printed in Survey Graphic, March 1925, then in The New Negro (1925); the last poem in the 1926 book, where it is titled “Epilogue.” Later printings call it “I, Too.” Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • An answer to Whitman. Walt Whitman wrote “I Hear America Singing” (1860), a list of American workers singing. Hughes’s first line, “I, too, sing America,” joins in and points out who was left out of the song.
  • The kitchen. Being sent to eat in the kitchen “when company comes” is a picture of segregation inside one house. How does the speaker react? Look at the three short lines that end stanza 2.
  • From “sing” to “am.” The poem starts “I, too, sing America” and ends “I, too, am America.” What changed between the first line and the last?
  • Placement. Hughes put this poem last in his first book and called it “Epilogue.” Why might he want it to be the final word?

“The Dream Keeper”

Bring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.

Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues (Knopf, 1926), p. 94. From the 1926 book. Public domain in the United States.

Read it closely

  • Who is the dream keeper? It could be the poet, a parent, a teacher, or the poem itself. Make a case for one.
  • “Heart melodies.” Dreams become music here. Why might a poet who loved the blues think of dreams that way?
  • Connect it. Twenty-five years later, Hughes’s poem “Harlem” asked what happens to a dream that is put off. Keep this little poem in mind when you read about that one below.

How a blues stanza works

A classic blues verse has three long lines in an AAB pattern. The singer states a line (A). Then sings it again (A), sometimes with a small change, which gives the band time and gives the listener time to wonder what’s coming. Then the singer answers it with a third line (B) that rhymes with the first two.

Hughes printed each long blues line as two short ones. Here is the second song from “The Weary Blues,” with the pattern marked:

A “I got the Weary Blues / And I can’t be satisfied.

A Got the Weary Blues / And can’t be satisfied—

B I ain’t happy no mo’ / And I wish that I had died.”

See how it works? The second A drops the word “I” but keeps the meaning. The B line turns the complaint darker and lands the rhyme: satisfied / died. That last word hits hard because you have been waiting two whole lines for it.

Hughes called many of his poems blues, and he used the form because it was the music working people in Harlem actually listened to. Some readers at the time, Black and white, thought blues and jazz were too low to put in serious poetry. Hughes answered in a 1926 essay in The Nation, “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain,” arguing that Black artists should write about their own people and music without shame.

Try it yourself: think of a small daily trouble (a dead phone, a long bus ride). Write it as line A, repeat it, then answer it with a rhyming line B. The game below will warm you up.

Famous later lines

Hughes kept writing for forty more years, and some of his most famous poems came after the Harlem Renaissance. These later poems are still under copyright, so we don’t reprint them here. Read them at the links below (the Academy of American Poets publishes them with permission).

Game: Blues Stanza Builder

You get line 1 of a blues verse. Choose what the singer sings next, then choose the line that finishes the verse. Click a line or press 1–3; press Enter or N for the next stanza. All the lines are new ones written for this game, in Hughes’s style.

Quiz

Ten questions on Hughes’s life and the poems on this page. Choose one answer for each, then check your score.

1. Where was Langston Hughes born?
2. Where was Hughes when he wrote “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”?
3. Which magazine first printed “The Negro Speaks of Rivers,” in June 1921?
4. In “Mother to Son,” what does the “crystal stair” stand for?
5. On which Harlem street does the speaker of “The Weary Blues” hear the piano player?
6. What is the AAB pattern of a classic blues stanza?
7. In the 1926 book The Weary Blues, what was the title of the poem we now call “I, Too”?
8. Which famous poet helped make the busboy poet known?
9. Hughes’s 1951 poem “Harlem” asks a famous question. What is it about?
10. Where did Hughes finish college, in 1929?

Talk About It

  • Hughes printed the speech of the mother in “Mother to Son” and the singer in “The Weary Blues” exactly as they talked. Some readers in the 1920s thought that made Black people look uneducated; Hughes thought it was honest. Who was right, and does the answer change today?
  • “I, Too” was written decades before the civil rights movement. Was the speaker’s “Tomorrow” a prediction, a hope or a warning? Has that tomorrow arrived?
  • The “crystal stair” in “Mother to Son” and the “never-ending stair” in Countee Cullen’s “Yet Do I Marvel” (1925) are both stairs. What is it about stairs that made poets reach for them?
  • Vachel Lindsay said he “discovered” Hughes, but Hughes had already been published and had won a prize. Why do stories of “discovery” get told this way? Who gets credit, and who should?
  • Pick a song you love. Does it use any of the tools on this page: repetition, an AAB pattern, a refrain, everyday speech? Bring a line (just a line) to share.

Sources