Category

Harlem Renaissance

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  • Poem
    By Langston Hughes
    What happens to a dream deferred?

          Does it dry up
          like a raisin in the sun?
          Or fester like a sore—
          And then run?
          Does it stink like rotten meat?
          Or crust and sugar over—
          like a syrupy sweet?

          Maybe it just sags
          like a heavy load.

          Or does it...
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