Fifty years and Other Poems

This is a collection of poems by James Weldon Johnson. Johnson was an early civil rights activist, and this theme is the basis for many of the poems in this collection as well. This volume also contains an introduction by Brander Matthews.The first half of this volume contains poems in classical style and form, the second half of this collection is a set of "Jingles and Croons".


By : James Weldon Johnson (1871 - 1938)

01 - Introduction



02 - Fifty Years



03 - To America



04 - O Black and Unknown Bards



05 - O Southland



06 - To Horace Bumstead



07 - The Color Sergeant



08 - The Black Mammy



09 - Father, Father Abraham



10 - Brothers



11 - Fragment



12 - The White Witch



13 - Mother Night



14 - The Young Warrior



15 - The Glory of the Day Was in Her Face



16 - From the Spanish of Plácido



17 - From the Spanish



18 - From the German of Uhland



19 - Before a Painting



20 - I Hear the Stars Still Singing



21 - Girl of Fifteen



22 - The Suicide



23 - Down by the Carib Sea



24 - The Greatest of These Is War



25 - A Mid-Day Dreamer



26 - The Temptress



27 - Ghosts of the Old Year



28 - The Ghost of Deacon Brown



29 - Lazy



30 - Omar



31 - Deep in the Quiet Wood



32 - Voluptas



33 - The Word of an Engineer



34 - Life



35 - Sleep



36 - Prayer at Sunrise



37 - The Gift to Sing



38 - Morning, Noon and Night



39 - Her Eyes Twin Pools



40 - The Awakening



41 - Beauty That Is Never Old



42 - Venus in a Garden



43 - Vashti



44 - The Reward



45 - Sence You Went Away



46 - Ma Lady's Lips Am Like de Honey



47 - Tunk



48 - Nobody's Lookin' but de Owl an' de Moon



49 - You's Sweet to Yo' Mammy Jes de Same



50 - A Plantation Bacchanal



51 - July in Georgy



52 - A Banjo Song



53 - Answer to Prayer



54 - Dat Gal o' Mine



55 - The Seasons



56 - Possum Song



57 - Brer Rabbit, You'se de Cutes' of 'Em All



58 - An Explanation



59 - De Little Pickaninny's Gone to Sleep



60 - The Rivals


Of the hundred millions who make up the population of the United States ten millions come from a stock ethnically alien to the other ninety millions. They are not descended from ancestors who came here voluntarily, in the spirit of adventure to better themselves or in the spirit of devotion to make sure of freedom to worship God in their own way. They are the grandchildren of men and women brought here against their wills to serve as slaves. It is only half-a-century since they received their freedom and since they were at last permitted to own themselves. They are now American citizens, with the rights and the duties of other American citizens; and they know no language, no literature and no law other than those of their fellow citizens of Anglo-Saxon ancestry.

When we take stock of ourselves these ten millions cannot be left out of account. Yet they are not as we are; they stand apart, more or less; they have their own distinct characteristics. It behooves us to understand them as best we can and to discover what manner of people they are. And we are justified in inquiring how far they have revealed themselves, their racial characteristics, their abiding traits, their longing aspirations,—how far have they disclosed these in one or another of the several arts. They have had their poets, their painters, their composers, and yet most of these have ignored their racial opportunity and have worked in imitation and in emulation of their white predecessors and contemporaries, content to handle again the traditional themes. The most important and the most significant contributions they have made to art are in music,—first in the plaintive beauty of the so-called "Negro spirituals"—and, secondly, in the syncopated melody of so-called "ragtime" which has now taken the whole world captive.

In poetry, especially in the lyric, wherein the soul is free to find full expression for its innermost emotions, their attempts have been, for the most part, divisible into two classes. In the first of these may be grouped the verses in which the lyrist put forth sentiments common to all mankind and in no wise specifically those of his own race; and from the days of Phyllis Wheatley to the present the most of the poems written by men who were not wholly white are indistinguishable from the poems written by men who were wholly white. Whatever their merits might be, these verses cast little or no light upon the deeper racial sentiments of the people to whom the poets themselves belonged. But in the lyrics to be grouped in the second of these classes there was a racial quality. This contained the dialect verses in which there was an avowed purpose of recapturing the color, the flavor, the movement of life in "the quarters," in the cotton field and in the canebrake. Even in this effort, white authors had led the way; Irvin Russell and Joel Chandler Harris had made the path straight for Paul Laurence Dunbar, with his lilting lyrics, often infused with the pathos of a down-trodden folk.

In the following pages Mr. James Weldon Johnson conforms to both of these traditions. He gathers together a group of lyrics, delicate in workmanship, fragrant with sentiment, and phrased in pure and unexceptionable English. Then he has another group of dialect verses, racy of the soil, pungent in flavor, swinging in rhythm and adroit in rhyme. But where he shows himself a pioneer is the half-dozen larger and bolder poems, of a loftier strain, in which he has been nobly successful in expressing the higher aspirations of his own people. It is in uttering this cry for recognition, for sympathy, for understanding, and above all, for justice, that Mr. Johnson is most original and most powerful. In the superb and soaring stanzas of "Fifty Years" (published exactly half-a-century after the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation) he has given us one of the noblest commemorative poems yet written by any American,—a poem sonorous in its diction, vigorous in its workmanship, elevated in its imagination and sincere in its emotion. In it speaks the voice of his race; and the race is fortunate in its spokesman. In it a fine theme has been finely treated. In it we are made to see something of the soul of the people who are our fellow citizens now and forever,—even if we do not always so regard them. In it we are glad to acclaim a poem which any living poet might be proud to call his own.

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