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A few poems written by Gwendolyn Brooks and published in the poetry column called Lights and Shadows “A Little Bit of Everything” in the Chicago Defender:

Another Girl, September 12, 1936

Another girl has known

The agony I know —

Another girl has known

This bitterness and so

I have no right to sorrow

I have no right to cry

Another girl has suffered

Even as I

Silence, September 18, 1936

There is a silence that draws on with years,

And you who stare into your glass with eyes

Surprised and dim with pale spontaneous


Come dry the salty drops and calm the sighs.

There is a silence that grows deep with age

For you who dread the coming of that white

That stamps the termination of your stage

Of Emerald youth, there is a finer light.

A clearer, warmer, more quiescent glow

Oh, who would rather stand in lightening’s


Amidst a shrieking blare and windy flow

Than in the stilly softness of moon rays?

I am not old. I would that I were old

Lost in the sweet recesses of that state.

When fold on fold of stillness, fold on fold

Breaks through the strained heart’s queerly

bolted gate

I still am young – but would I were not


But at that time of life when youth’s cold


From off the heart, like some sheer wrap

is flung

And all’s pacific in the soul’s abode

There is a silence fashioned of dead fears

And gentle faiths in what has not yet been.

A perfect silence that comes on with years.

And clear’s a space that truth may enter in.

Two Songs For Friends, October 31, 1936

(Lavinia Brascher)

I’m thinking of you tonight

Of your quiet, lovely eyes

I’m thinking of the dearness

That in your nature lies


Thinking of you tonight.

And pleasant hours passed

Together, days long gone —

Would happiness might last!


Thinking of you tonight,

Fondly, dreamily —

Wondering if you are thinking

Of me.

(Lucille Harris)

I’ve little care if you’re “good” or “bad,”

Save care for your poor sake —

I demand alone that you own a  balm

To calm my wearying ache.

My dear, this means: let me come to you

When I desire to come

And put my sorrows in your hands.

Not all. But some.


I’ve little care if you’re “good” or “bad”

What is bad, what good?

Let me but come away from you

Thinking — “She understood.”

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