To wrap up our celebration of Black History Month, YECA Steering Committee member, Shaphan, has compiled some Harlem Renaissance poems that are centered on themes of nature or that utilize natural imagery to talk about the human experience, as well as themes of justice, strength, and renewal.
Langston Hughes
Langston Hughes, a literary giant of the Harlem Renaissance, wove nature into his poetry to celebrate Black strength, history, and renewal. His work reminds us that the environment is deeply tied to identity and community.
"An Earth Song" honors the beauty of the land, celebrating nature’s rhythms as a source of life and joy, much like the resilience of Black communities.
"The Negro Speaks of Rivers" connects ancient waterways—Euphrates, Congo, Nile, and Mississippi—to Black history, symbolizing endurance and wisdom.
"In Time of Silver Rain" speaks of rebirth and new beginnings, reflecting both the renewal of the earth and the hope of freedom.
Hughes’ poetry reminds us that Black history is deeply connected to the land—its struggles, its beauty, and its ability to bring peace and healing.
An Earth Song
It's an earth song,—
And I've been waiting long for an earth song.
It's a spring song,—
And I've been waiting long for a spring song.
Strong as the shoots of a new plant
Strong as the bursting of new buds
Strong as the coming of the first child from its mother's womb.
It's an earth song,
A body song,
A spring song,
I have been waiting long for this spring song.
In Time Of Silver Rain
In time of silver rain
The earth puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of Life,
Of Life,
Of life!
In time of silver rain
The butterflies lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth new leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain When spring
And life
Are new.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
Helene Johnson
Another Harlem Renaissance poet, Helene Johnson’s poetry beautifully intertwines nature with the human experience, offering timeless reflections on identity, resilience, and the environment.
"Metamorphism" captures the transformative power of nature, reminding us of the cycles of change in both the world around us and within ourselves.
"The Road" takes us through paths of both personal and environmental journeys, urging us to consider how the road we travel today impacts the world we leave for tomorrow.
"What Do I Care for Morning" challenges conventional ideas of renewal, echoing a deep connection to the land’s ability to restore and refresh, despite the odds.
As we face climate challenges today, Johnson’s work reminds us that the environment is not just a backdrop—it’s part of our identity, our story, and our future as Christians. Let's honor her legacy by defending the world God has blessed us with and appreciating the ways God has designed creation to nurture us so well.
Metamorphism (1926)
Is this the sea?
This calm emotionless bosom,
Serene as the heart of a converted Magdalene–
Or this?
This lisping, lulling murmur of soft waters
Kissing a white beached shore with tremulous lips
Blue rivulets of sky gurgling deliciously
O'er pale smooth stones–
This too?
This sudden birth of unrestrained splendor,
Tugging with turbulent force at Neptunes leash;
This passionate abandon,
This strange tempestuous soliloquy of Nature.
All these--the Sea?
The Road
Ah, little road all whirry in the breeze,
A leaping clay hill lost among the trees,
The bleeding note of rapture streaming thrush
Caught in a drowsy hush
And stretched out in a single singing line of dusky song.
Ah little road, brown as my race is brown,
Your trodden beauty like our trodden pride,
Dust of the dust, they must not bruise you down.
Rise to one brimming golden, spilling cry!
What Do I Care for Morning
What do I care for morning,
For a shivering aspen tree,
For sun flowers and sumac
Opening greedily?
What do I care for morning,
For the glare of the rising sun,
For a sparrow's noisy prating,
For another day begun?
Give me the beauty of evening,
The cool consummation of night,
And the moon like a love-sick lady,
Listless and wan and white.
Give me a little valley
Huddled beside a hill,
Like a monk in a monastery,
Safe and contented and still,
Give me the white road glistening,
A strand of the pale moon's hair,
And the tall hemlocks towering
Dark as the moon is fair.
Oh what do I care for morning,
Naked and newly born--
Night is here, yielding and tender--
What do I care for dawn!
James Weldon Johnson
James Weldon Johnson (1871–1938) was a poet, novelist, civil rights activist, and key figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Best known for "Lift Every Voice and Sing", he used his writing to explore themes of justice and the deep connection between people and the land.
In "Deep in the Quiet Wood", Johnson paints a peaceful retreat into nature, where the forest offers healing—a reminder of why we must protect these sacred spaces.
His poem "We to America" reflects on the struggles and hopes of Black Americans, highlighting our enduring relationship with the land.
Today, as climate change disproportionately impacts marginalized communities, Johnson’s work reminds us that environmental justice is deeply tied to social justice. Protecting our forests, air, and water isn’t just about nature—it’s about safeguarding our communities and securing a just future for all.
Deep in the Quiet Wood
Are you bowed down in heart?
Do you but hear the clashing discords and the din of life?
Then come away, come to the peaceful wood,
Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now,
From out the palpitating solitude
Do you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains?
They are above, around, within you, everywhere.
Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, they come.
They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in singing tones.
Now let your soul run the whole gamut of the wondrous scale
Until, responsive to the tonic chord,
It touches the diapason of God's grand cathedral organ,
Filling earth for you with heavenly peace
And holy harmonies.
We to America
How would you have us, as we are—
Or sinking ‘neath the load we bear?
Our eyes fixed forward on a star—
Or gazing empty at despair?
Rising or falling? Men or things?
With dragging pace or footsteps fleet?
Strong, willing sinews in your wings?
Or tightening chains about your feet?
