The Harlem Renaissance 5 million African-Americans migrated North WWI & After New York Harlem Poets, painters, musicians, dancers, etc. Moved to New York at 19 First African-American to support himself as writer Poet, journalist, novelist, musician Poems capture musical qualities of African oral tradition Fuse everyday speech with rhythms of jazz and blues 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. That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are wise: Her bandage hides two festering sores That once perhaps were eyes. Chicago born First African-American Pulitzer Prize winning poet Poems paint picture of black ghettos Drew from jazz and street slang We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. Began writing at age 14. Attended New York University; Masters from Harvard. Popular with white poetry, sometimes shunned in black community because of this. Lyric poet in tradition of Keats and Shelley Locked arm in arm they cross the way, The black boy and the white, The golden splendor of the day, The sable pride of night. From lowered blinds the dark folk stare, And here the fair folk talk, Indignant that these two should dare In unison to walk. Oblivious to look and work They pass, and see no wonder That lightning brilliant as a sword Should blaze the path of thunder. TO JOHN KEATS, POET, AT SPRING TIME (For Carl Van Vechten) I cannot hold my peace, John Keats; There never was a spring like this; It is an echo, that repeats My last year's song and next year's bliss. I know, in spite of all men say Of Beauty, you have felt her most. Yea, even in your grave her way Is laid. Poor, troubled, lyric ghost, Spring never was so fair and dear As Beauty makes her seem this year. I cannot hold my peace, John Keats, I am as helpless in the toil Of Spring as any lamb that bleats To feel the solid earth recoil Beneath his puny legs. Spring beats her tocsin call to those who love her, And lo! the dogwood petals cover Her breast with drifts of snow, and sleek White gulls fly screaming to her, and hover About her shoulders, and kiss her cheek, While white and purple lilacs muster A strength that bears them to a cluster Of color and odor; for her sake All things that slept are now awake. And you and I, shall we lie still, John Keats, while Beauty summons us? Somehow I feel your sensitive will Is pulsing up some tremulous Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves Grow music as they grow, since your Wild voice is in them, a harp that grieves For life that opens death's dark door. Though dust, your fingers still can push The Vision Splendid to a birth, Though now they work as grass in the hush Of the night on the broad sweet page of the earth. "John Keats is dead," they say, but I Who hear your full insistent cry In bud and blossom, leaf and tree, Know John Keats still writes poetry. And while my head is earthward bowed To read new life sprung from your shroud, Folks seeing me must think it strange That merely spring should so derange My mind. They do not know that you, John Keats, keep revel with me, too. Born 1924 in Harlem Compared his stern stepfather to Ishmael in Genesis First, albeit illegitimate son of Abraham Forced to wander in the wilderness after legitimate Isaac was born Ishmael theme apparent in literature Fled the segregated north for France Wrote much about black struggles in America Lil Hardin Armstrong As you listen to Armstrong, write down some adjectives that describe the music. Charlie Parker As you listen to Parker, write down differences you hear from Armstrong From whose point of view is “Sonny’s Blues” told? How do the narrator’s values and experiences affect his view of the story? What does the older brother’s profession suggest about his personality How would this story change if it was told by the younger brother?