Who is Langston Hughes

James Mercer Langston Hughes (February 1, 1901 – May 22, 1967) was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist from Joplin, Missouri. He moved to New York City as a young man, where he made his career. One of the earliest innovators of the then-new literary art form called jazz poetry, Hughes is best known as a leader of the Harlem Renaissance in New York City. He famously wrote about the period that "the negro was in vogue", which was later paraphrased as "when Harlem was in vogue".

Contents BiographyAncestry and childhood Like many African Americans, Hughes had a comp...
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Langston Hughes Poems

  • Dieu
    Je suis Dieu-
    Sans un ami,
    Seul dans ma pureté
    Monde sans fin. ...
  • Gott
    Ich bin Gott-
    Ohne einen Freund,
    Allein in meiner Reinheit
    Welt ohne Ende. ...
  • Dios
    Yo soy Dios-
    Sin un amigo
    Solo en mi pureza
    Mundo sin fin. ...
  • Night Funeral In Harlem
    Night funeral
    In Harlem:

    Where did they get ...
  • Sick Room
    How quiet
    It is in this sick room
    Where on the bed
    A silent woman lies between two lovers- ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Langston Hughes

Love 16 I Love You 16 Night 13 Black 13 White 12 Long 12 Dream 11 Life 10 Song 10 World 9

Langston Hughes Quotes

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Comments about Langston Hughes

  • Theohen95302259: the resistance to admit anti black sentiment in one's community. here is the damage. it erase the person from the community damaged. langston hughes had a poem i too am america.
  • Gunn_ye: westside gunn > langston hughes
  • Beineckelibrary: langston hughes: "to you"
  • Beineckelibrary: always hope langston hughes papers
  • Berniceking: i, too, sing america... tomorrow, i'll be at the table when company comes. nobody'll dare say to me, "eat in the kitchen," then. besides, they'll see how beautiful i am and be ashamed— i, too, am america. ~langston hughes
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Poem of the day

Thomas Moore Poem
What The Bee Is To The Floweret
 by Thomas Moore

What the bee is to the floweret,
When he looks for honey-dew,
Through the leaves that close embower it,
That, my love, I'll be to you.

She. --

What the bank, with verdure glowing,

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