James Weldon Johnson

(1871-1938 / Florida/United States)

James Weldon Johnson Poems

1. To Horace Bumstead 4/2/2010
2. Venus In The Garden 4/2/2010
3. Vashti 4/2/2010
4. Nobody's Lookin' But De Owl An' De Moon 4/2/2010
5. Ma Lady's Lips Am Like De Honey 4/2/2010
6. The Temptress 4/2/2010
7. O Southland! 4/2/2010
8. Omar 4/2/2010
9. The Rivals 4/2/2010
10. Voluptas 4/2/2010
11. Sleep 4/2/2010
12. The Ghost Of Deacon Brown 4/2/2010
13. Possum Song 4/2/2010
14. Sonnet 4/2/2010
15. Life 4/2/2010
16. The Seasons 4/2/2010
17. The Gift To Sing 4/2/2010
18. The Young Warrior 4/2/2010
19. Lazy 4/2/2010
20. The Suicide 4/2/2010
21. The Color Sergeant 4/2/2010
22. You's Sweet To Yo' Mammy De Same 4/2/2010
23. The Word Of An Engineer 4/2/2010
24. Sence You Went Away 4/2/2010
25. The White Witch 4/2/2010
26. O Black And Unknown Bards 4/2/2010
27. The Glory Of The Day Was In Her Face 4/2/2010
28. Morning, Noon And Night 4/2/2010
29. Mother Night 4/2/2010
30. To America 4/2/2010
31. Prayer At Sunrise 4/2/2010
32. The Reward 4/2/2010
33. The Black Mammy 4/2/2010
34. The Awakening 4/2/2010
35. July In Georgy 4/2/2010
36. Ghosts Of The Old Year 4/2/2010
37. The Prodigal Son 4/2/2010
38. Her Eyes Twin Pools 4/2/2010
39. De Little Pickaninny's Gone To Sleep 4/2/2010
40. Down By The Carib Sea 4/2/2010
Best Poem of James Weldon Johnson

The Creation

And God stepped out on space,
And he looked around and said:
I'm lonely--
I'll make me a world.

And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp.

Then God smiled,
And the light broke,
And the darkness rolled up on one side,
And the light stood shining on the other,
And God said: That's good!

Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
And God rolled the light around in his hands
Until he made the sun;
And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
And...

Read the full of The Creation

Listen, Lord: A Prayer

O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before Thy throne of grace.
O Lord--this morning--
Bow our hearts beneath our knees,
And our knees in some lonesome valley.
We come this morning--
Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,
With no merits of our own.

[Hata Bildir]