Poems by Langston Hughes

Being Old
It's because you are so young
You do not understand
     But we are old
     As the jungle trees
     Old as the forgotten rivers
     That flowed into the earth
Surely we know what you do not know;
     Joy of living,
     Uselessness of things.
You are too young to understand yet.
     Build another skyscraper
    Touching the stars.
We sit with our backs against a tree
And watch skyscrapers tumble
And stars forget.
     Solomon built a temple
     And it must have fallen down.
     It isn't here now.
We know some things, being old,
You do not understand

Langston Hughes

Poems by Langston Hughes

Song for Billie Holiday

What can purge my heart
   Of the song
   And the sadness?
What can purge my heart
   But the song
   Of the sadness?
What can purge my heart
   Of the sadness
   Of the song?

Do not speak of sorrow
With dust in her hair,
Or bits of dust in eyes
A chance wind blows there.
The sorrow that I speak of
Is dusted with despair.

Voice of muted trumpet
Cold brass in warm air.
Bitter television blurred
By sound that shimmers--
   Where?

Langston Hughes