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NAACP newsletters, Fort Madison Branch, 1967-1970

1967-06-15 Newsletter, Fort Madison Branch of the NAACP Page 4

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-4- of the shadows of the chasm. Poverty begets poverty and ignorance begets ignorance, therefore the State of Missouri, ig it is to realize any degree of education and rays of light in the valley of shadows, needs help from outside the situation. We of Missouri, need the assistance of the Summer NAACP Project. This may mean the difference between a life of darkness or opening of eyes so we may see where we are going." These are the words of Reverend Donald Frank of Pettis County, Missouri. Anyone wishing to participate in the project should contact any member of the local Executive Committee or the Branch Administrative Secretary, right away! James Langston Hughes, Poet Laureate of Harlem and author of an enormous number of works wmong which is the NAACP's FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, died in a New York Hospital on May 22nd. In recalling the source and inspiration of his writing, Mr. Hughes once said: "There is so much richness in Negro humor, so much beauty in black dreams, so each living human being of color . . . that I do not understand the tendency today that some American Negro artists have of seeking to run away from themselves." -taken from LET AMERICA BE AMERICA AGAIN by Langston Hughes "...I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land. I am the immigrant clutching the ho3e I seek- And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, worried, hungry, mean- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today- O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead. The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In that Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the lang it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a 'homeland of the free.' The free?
 
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